Princess at Sea (18 page)

I lay on the sand in the shade with the chill wind off the water gusting over me, trying to keep my breathing slow and shallow as I listened to Contessa's quill scratching. Slowly, the nausea eased, and my shoulders relaxed. I stared at the bowl past the lank strands of my hair, wanting it more than I had wanted anything in my life.

“Here,” she said belligerently. “And mind you don't smear the ink.”

“My God,” he swore, boot bell's chiming. “You're a pushy dock-chull of a woman.”

“And you're a worthless gutter-down, not even worth calling a man.” It was loud, and I heard a stirring from somewhere behind me. I recognized Alex's breath quickening as he woke.

“Read it to me,” Captain Rylan demanded.

“May I skip the preliminaries?” she asked, her voice softer, but still tart. There was a hesitation, then she said, “My Respected Chancellor Kavenlow. Alex, Tess, and I have been taken by”—she paused—“men intent on ransom. They would ask that you allow their representative safe and unhindered passage in and out of the city. Give him as much free coin and spice as will fill a wagon of his choice and do not molest him in any way. When he reaches the safety of his comrades, Alex, Tess, and I will be released. If you do not do this, he will send our heads to you.”

My breath caught at that. I was to be freed? But my brief hope vanished when Captain Rylan said, “Cross off her name. She's mine.”

“I thought she was Duncan's,” Contessa said. “He bet his take she would survive.”

“She hasn't survived yet.” His voice was low with a dark promise. “Cross her off.”

I heard the scratch of a quill. “There now,” he mocked. “You can be properly obedient.”

To Contessa's credit, she stayed silent, though I could almost see her narrow chin trembling in anger.

“You,” Captain Rylan said loudly, and a pang of fear went through me. The sound of jingling bells grew loud as he approached. He was talking to me. “Wake up.”

“Leave my sister alone!” Contessa cried, and I heard Alex sit up and murmur for her to be still and that she couldn't help me by antagonizing him.

“One more word outta your mouth,” the captain said calmly, “and I'll have Mr. Smitty tie you so you can't reach either of them.”

“Captain Rylan!” came Duncan's distant call, followed by the sound of his steps in the sand. I kept my eyes shut, praying the captain would go away. I felt as if the pain would break me apart if he touched me.

“She isn't yours yet!” Captain Rylan retorted loudly. “That poison could still drop her.”

“It will if you keep moving her,” Duncan said, his voice thick with a cautious anger tempered with respect. “This is the first natural sleep she's found. I won her. She's mine.”

The hesitation had been obvious, but Captain Rylan took less offense than I'd have expected, sighing with a tired patience rather than cuffing Duncan for the insolence. “Duncan?” he said, his tone fatherly. “I'm saving you from yourself, boy. She's a woman, and there hasn't been a woman born yet that was worth more than a tumble in bed.”

“Tess isn't like that,” Duncan retorted, and I felt a wash of gratitude. “She's smart. Her eyes are sharp, and she isn't afraid to do what's necessary. The things I've seen her do are amazing. You saw her in that pit. Just imagine—”

“I know her kind,” the captain interrupted. “She won't be swayed from her kin, boy, for love or money or respect. Start thinking with your head instead of your third leg. This isn't going to work no matter how bad you want it. Soon as I find a way to get rid of her without setting Mr. Smitty and his men off on a superstitious fit, she goes. Surviving a bite that killed a drunken man does not give her power to curse them. Damn fool sea rats.”

“Captain ...”

“Wake up!” This last was directed at me, and I couldn't stop my groan when a jingling, booted foot nudged the small of my back. “I've got something I want you to read.”

“Please stop,” I whispered, my eyes shut and breathing shallow through the pain.

“Get her up,” Captain Rylan growled.

The sand before me shifted, and I opened my eyes. Duncan was kneeling before me. “Sorry, Tess,” he said, his eyes pinched. “Sit up. I'll get you some water.”

It was the carrot of water that solidified my will. With Duncan's help, I managed to rise. He shifted my legs for me as I was too weak, and he moved my arm like it was a dead thing, setting it in my lap. I gritted my teeth and focused on the swaying fronds until the fire and needles subsided. It left a steady burning sensation through my entire right side.

Duncan watched my eyes carefully as I panted through the last of the pain, his expression worried. Seeing I was upright and had my balance, he extended the bowl.

I grasped it, sucking in the water with a hungry sound. It was warm and tepid, tasting of husks. I didn't care.

“That's enough,” Captain Rylan said, and I caught sight of his legs to my right. His shadow fell over me, and I ran my gaze up his worn finery while I drank, thinking it looked ridiculous out here on the sand.

Duncan tried to take the bowl, and my eyes went to his over the edge of it. I wouldn't let go, and Duncan whispered, “Give it to me, or he'll likely kick it out of my hands.”

Reluctantly, I loosened my grip, my eyes never leaving the bowl as Duncan set it aside out of Captain Rylan's reach. My cracked lips stung, and I licked them.

“Read this,” the short man demanded, Contessa's letter extended.

My left hand shook uncontrollably as I took it from his soft, many-ringed hand. I glanced past him to Contessa. She was sitting upright with Alex, and I tried to smile at her, finding myself unable to do anything but simply breathe. The weight of my body seemed to press into me, making just working my lungs seem like a chore. Contessa's eyes were wide and haunted, her lips parted and her face ashen.
I must look like a beaten dog in the gutter,
I thought.

Alex rested in her arms, propped up and seeming as weak as a kitten, pale and drawn. But his eyes were clear, and his lips behind his new beard were pressed tightly. The fever was gone. He would live. Captain Rylan moved to block my view. “Aloud?” he prompted.

I focused on the paper, reading Contessa's careful script very quickly. It told Kavenlow that we were likely to be a day's sail north or south of the capital in a few days' time, and that he should take all action to retrieve us. She and Alex had decided that under no circumstances should the ransom be paid since it would only lead to more attempts to capture them in the future. She asked that if the worst happened, that the king of Misdev be told that the true worth of the Misdev blood showed itself, and that Alex was brought down by overwhelming numbers and mortal weakness, not that of spirit, and that she was proud to have died beside such a noble man of such a high swordsmanship. At the bottom, the word
together
had been crossed off.

“Read it!” Captain Rylan prompted, his foot in my ribs making me jump. A blanket of pain dimmed my vision, and I wavered where I sat.

“It says we have been taken for ransom,” I said, shocked at how raspy my voice was. “It says to give a wagon of coin and spice to your man, and that if they molest him in any way, you will send our heads back to them.” I looked up, squinting. “Why is my name crossed off?”

“Because you aren't going back,” he said. “You belong to Duncan.” His even gaze went to Duncan, not a shade of his lie showing. “Take it up with him.”

He bent at the waist to snatch the letter from me, and I entertained a brief thought of how easy it would be to break his nose with the heel of my hand—if I could move. My chin dropped to my chest, and I concentrated on breathing. Even with my gaze down, I could see the confident, cocksure jingling walk as Captain Rylan went to the central cooking fire, yelling for Mr. Smitty all the way.

Duncan dropped down beside me. I looked first at him, then past him to Contessa and Alex. I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. She had been shackled and couldn't reach me. “Water?” I asked. My throat felt raw, and I held my breath so I wouldn't cough and accidentally kill myself.

I held the bowl with my one good hand, his fingers over mine to steady it as I was shaking again. It seemed terribly heavy, and after the first few gulps I watched his eyes. They were fixed tight on what he was doing, tired and worried. Guilt joined my pain. He was a good man. Keeping the reality of the game from him was an insult. I gently pushed on the bowl, and Duncan lowered it.

“Tess, you're going to be all right,” he said, his smile tinged with an overwhelming relief.

“Duncan,” I started. “If I don't make it—”

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “None of that.” He scooted closer, a sly glint coming into his gaze. “You're mine, now, and you have to do what I say. I won you fairly.”

I almost laughed, catching it when the fingers of pain worsened. Black spots danced before my eyes, and I quickly sobered. He reached for my bandage, and I drew back, frightened.

“Let me check it, Tess,” he insisted, brow pinched. “No infection so far. It's a miracle.”

“That's nothing compared to surviving at all,” I said, feeling a rush of gratitude. “Thank you. What you did probably saved my life.”

He shrugged, his long face looking embarrassed. “I just remembered what you tried to do when I pricked my finger on one of your darts.”

“You remember?” I questioned, thinking Kavenlow wasn't as good at manipulating memories as he thought he was.

“I almost died.” His brown eyes were very intent upon my shoulder as he loosened the knots holding my dress closed and picked carefully at the bandage's tie. “You think it's easy to forget something like that?”

“No,” I whispered, thankful he hadn't. “But how did you know it was the same poison?”

He flicked his gaze to mine, squinting from the sun. “I didn't until just now.”

My stomach hurt, growing worse at the jolt of pain when he tugged too hard. “Leave it,” I finally said. “If you keep pulling on it, I'm going to lose the water I just drank.”

“Sorry.” His hands fell away, and my eyes met his in the new silence. “Do you think you can keep down some soup?” he coaxed. “You haven't eaten in days, but I can get food and water for you . . . now that the crew thinks you've got some spiritual connection to animals.”

I haven't eaten in days? How long have I been out?
I thought, but the compassion in his voice caught at me. It must have been hard for him knowing I was below the deck and unable even to slip me a crust. And even worse when he had been unable to do anything when they shoved me into that pit. “I heard what Captain Rylan said—before I woke up,” I said, softly. “He's going to kill me the first chance he gets. Don't lie to me, Duncan. I can't bear it.”

His hands found mine, gently cupping them and holding them unmoving. There was a twinge from my injured shoulder, but I bore it, not wanting to tell him it hurt. Duncan looked at my dirty, tar-smeared, small hands in his, his thumb gently moving against mine. “I won't let him,” he whispered. “And in the meantime, you'll get food and water. You'll get stronger, then we'll escape.” His eyes rose to mine. “We all will.”

I couldn't bring myself to argue with him, though it was likely we would all die before the sun rose twice. Pushing my despair away, I looked past him to Contessa coaxing Alex to sit up. They might make it, but my survival was going to be a lot harder.

While I concentrated on my breathing, I watched Contessa help Alex. The new tenderness between them was obvious and struck me to the quick. As a royal, I had grown up with the concrete understanding that I would probably have a loveless marriage, the needs of the realm coming long before mine. My brief elation in finding out I was free to search out love as I could find it had been voluntarily crushed under my own heel when I accepted Kavenlow's apprenticeship. Secretly this time, the needs of the game had superseded my own.

Seeing Contessa shift the palm fronds so that Alex's healing shoulder—and only his healing shoulder—would be in the sun, I vowed she, at least, would have the chance at happiness. I couldn't risk Duncan's life by asking him to stay with me. He'd become a target for an assassin's dart, a tool with which to manipulate me. I knew that I would risk Costenopolie to keep him safe, and as a player, I couldn't allow such ties of love.

“Duncan?” I said softly so my voice wouldn't crack. I felt the tears start to well, and I reached with my good hand to wipe them away, hating them even as they appeared. It wasn't fair. To remain silent as to why I continually said no felt like such a betrayal, but if I told him, I knew he would risk the danger and stay with me, bringing about both our downfalls.

“Oh, Tess,” he whispered, the sand moving in a soft hush as he scooted closer. He gently set my deadened right hand in my lap and cautiously leaned until his shoulder rested against my good side, blocking the wind. “Don't cry,” he said, making it worse. “We'll be all right.”

“That's not what I'm crying for,” I said, becoming more miserable when his arm went carefully around my waist. I wanted to give in, to sob uncontrollably into his shoulder, to tell him I was angry at the decision I had made, to tell him why I had made it and ask for his forgiveness for choosing an empire over him. He was the only person I felt wouldn't think me weak or foolish for breaking down, and I still couldn't bring myself to do it. If he stayed with me, either he would die from a rival's dart or I would sacrifice my kingdom to save his life. And the game meant more to me than life itself.