Chapter Four
THE NAVY SHIP WAS SLEEK AND STYLISH. My crew stood off to one side in a huddle, hands on their weapons, murmuring to each other as the queen gave me a tour.
I complimented her on her shipbuilding and insight.
A country was only as strong as its navy, especially one that was an island.
There had been no contact or communication with anyone who did not have pointed ears for hundreds of years, but a few brave souls had sailed to the uncharted lands to the northwest, many never returning.
The ones that had had spoken of marvelous lands filled with mystical creatures and people of rich fey blood.
Magical fish supposedly swam in lagoons while birds sang songs in a lyrical language.
The stuff of wishful fiction, my father had always said.
Sailing through unknown seas where the witches and their father resided was a death sentence, he had claimed.
Perhaps that was so. Perhaps not. So far, I had been content to carry on as he had, but I could admit to being drawn to wondering if exploring unknown lands would be a less fraught way of making a living.
All was well until we put into the harbor.
My crew was as nervous as grasshoppers in a chicken pen as we moved from the ship to the docks.
We drew curious looks from some, from others we saw fright as Prescott, toting my chest while wearing Pith’s purple skull cream, trudged along behind me, the queen, and the ever-charming Le’ral Fylson.
Carriages and enough armed royal guards to quell a yeti attack waited to escort us to our rides.
The carriages were large, gilded, and built for the royal family.
I shot a look at Hyla, who was staring at the line of conveyances with distrust. Prescott balked about handing over my trunk, but once I assured him it was fine, it was lashed to the back of the queen’s carriage.
If someone had told me a year ago that I would be here about to meet the king who thought I was his long-lost half-brother, I would have laughed myself into a stupor.
“Please, Captain Cadere, if you would ride with the advisor and me, we can chat on the way to Avolire?” Queen Raewyn asked after waving at the crowds gathered to witness the arrival of a pirate whose ship was not only not sunk on sight but given a ride in the queen’s carriage.
What the masses were thinking, I couldn’t say, but they all looked rightfully befuddled and slightly terrified.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have flown the blood flag after all.
Hyla always said I had a head as hard as granite.
I nudged a footman aside to open and hold the door for the queen.
She gave me a curt nod before entering the carriage.
I smiled at the advisor—handsome men always got a smile from me—when a small disturbance broke out behind us.
I turned to find Prescott tossing royal guards aside like ninepins.
The queen stuck her head back out the door as I raced back to my guardian, cutlass drawn, to slide between him and the guards poking at him with swords while the crowds began to panic. Trolls did that to crowds.
“Lower your weapons!” I bellowed to no avail.
“Guards, do as he says!” Le’ral barked as he jogged up to us, his hands raised, as mothers plucked their little ones from the docks.
Prescott was roaring at the top of his lungs, which were quite substantial.
The guards slowly, ever so slowly, lowered their swords but held their shields high.
They formed a line between us and the commoners, which was polite.
I turned to look up at Prescott. He was panting, chin flecked with spittle, his pale eyes wide with terror.
“Easy, easy, all is well,” I cooed, sliding my cutlass back into its scabbard so he could see that no weapons were out. “Easy, yes, good.” He glanced about and then fixated on me. “That’s right. All is sunny, yes?”
“Sunny. Yes,” he parroted. “Me go.” He pointed a thick finger at the queen’s carriage. “Me go. Make safe.” He patted my head. My neck cracked loudly. “Me cappy safe.”
“Right. Well, my friend, I’m not sure the queen wishes to have you in her carriage,” I gently tried to explain.
He growled, a deep thunderous sound that made a sailor to my left dive behind a crate. Prescott began to howl and wail, slapping his hands on the pier with such force that the boards cracked.
“May we help?” Le’ral asked, his words nearly drowned out by the half-troll’s wails of anguish.
“He doesn’t understand that he can’t come with me. He’s been at my side for several years to serve as a means of persuasion for those seeking to do me harm.”
“Persuasion. Yes, I can see that he would persuade those intent on harming you to think twice or even thrice.” Le’ral looked back at the queen. She left the carriage, stalking over to where we all stood about like stunned catfish.
“Whatever is his upset?” Raewyn asked. I told her what I had said to Le’ral. Some of the sternness melted from her face. “Oh, he is much like a child, is he not?”
“A child that will tear this town apart until he finds me,” I offered. She nodded, placing a tiny hand on Prescott’s heaving back. Her guards rushed in. She stilled them with a firm look before giving Prescott her attention, whispering nonsense to him as one might a scared toddler.
“The poor thing. What an upsetting, confusing, and frightening situation this must be. Let him ride with us to Avolire. We’ll find a suite that will allow him to be next to you.
” She patted Prescott’s bare back, her words soft and soothing.
He responded as he always did to kindness, with a burble of some sort of words that made no sense to anyone but him.
“Your Majesty?” Le’ral softly asked. She turned to return to her carriage. The grand advisor sighed. “It seems the queen has spoken.” He turned to the guards. “Let the large one ride with us. Please escort the others to The Skye Nest as directed.”
“Come with me,” I said to Prescott and gifted him my hat.
He smashed it atop his head, smiling a toothsome smile when the feathers tickled his back.
It didn’t fit, but the purple goop atop his pate held it in place.
I could only imagine what the king would think when we all stepped out of the carriage on the grand steps of Avolire.
One of the guards snapped to it, while the others were doing as they were bid but keeping a distance from Prescott as he trotted along at my side. We climbed in one by one: the queen, the advisor, and then me.
“Come in and sit down,” I beckoned to the massive male eyeing the carriage as if it would eat him whole.
“Come in,” I called once more, softly, which seemed to placate him enough to allow him to enter the carriage.
The front half settled downward and then back with a groan as Prescott wedged himself between the upholstery-lined wall and me.
Le’ral threw out an arm to keep the queen from being tossed forward into us.
Prescott’s shoulders were hunched, his hat askew, but he was alight with happiness.
I was plastered to the wall like flocked wallpaper, his sharp elbow in my ribs.
“Horse,” he said as a guard rode up to flank the carriage. “Book horse.”
He went to reach a hand into his breeches. Raewyn’s eyes rounded. I stilled him quickly. “The queen will look at your book later.”
“Yes, good,” he replied, staring out the window as we began our climb to the castle.
A few people we passed shouted names at us.
Calling us foul rogues, freebooters, and scurvy scourges.
The queen sat stiffly beside Le’ral, her sight darting from me to my bodyguard and back to me.
I suspected she was trying to spy any family likeness between me and the king.
According to others, it was there, plainly, on my face.
Likely the only thing we shared, if we shared anything at all aside from a slight resemblance.
The carriage grew warm quickly even with the slightly cooler temperatures of autumn on the horizon riding on the winds.
It would have been far less stifling and far more pleasant if I could have come up with a topic to discuss.
I had zero. Other than to remark on how striking the grand advisor was, which would seem tacky with the queen eyeing me like I was a barnacle on the side of one of her new ships, I had nothing in common with either of them.
Prescott’s happy horse humming—hum hum horse hum hum—filled the carriage as we clip-clopped up, up, up to an uncertain greeting combined with a highly uncertain future.
Generally, I didn’t mind cramped places.
Sailing on a ship for full moons after full moons was not a career for those who required wide open spaces.
My quarters were the only space on the Cloud’s Shame where one could stretch out and not slap another sailor in the face.
I’d grown up sleeping with the men in the hold, to toughen me up whilst teaching me what it was like to be with the crew, to quote my father.
Small spaces didn’t bother me, but this carriage…
It had my nerves rubbed raw.