The Firebrand Legacy (4 page)

“I don’t know.” Carine backed away. “I don’t
know if we
can
be sure.”

“But if he’s dead, does that mean we’re safe?
We can go home?” Mom’s tired eyes blazed with longing.

Carine’s heart pounded.
Safe
…that
state was so elusive. Even now with Selius dead, the dragon could
still fly over any second. “How did he die?”

Mom shrugged. She stepped west toward their
shattered shell of a home. “Does it matter? Let’s go back.”

But Carine could not go back. It wasn’t only
hunger that turned her stomach. Something else was wrong.
“Heartless Ones don’t just die. Someone—or something—had to have
killed him.”

Mom shivered. “Please…let’s go home.”

Carine ran her fingers through her hair.
“Didda didn’t come back when he said he would, which means
something bad happened to him. Now, someone has killed the
Heartless One —”

“No one can kill a Heartless One,” Mom
said.

“Then it was someone just as powerful.” Panic
flurried through her veins. “We have to get out of here, Mom. We
have to leave the city—and the kingdom.”

Mom relented, and they ran until a door
marked with a heart swung open. The man was a baker. Even now as he
stood in the doorway assessing the two people in front of him,
flour caked his pants and palms. He was thin as a rail and
tall.

Carine stepped back. Baker or not, the man
had a knife in his hand and fear in his eyes. His gaze flicked
between Carine and her mom until he seemed to decide on Carine. He
turned the blade in his hands.

His eyes and door told the story: Selius had
threatened his family as well. Instead of heading for the pig pens,
he was searching the streets for a human heart to offer.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, clicking the
door shut behind him.

Carine stepped back, but he stepped forward
in turn. When Carine stepped back again, her shoe caught a broken
cobblestone, and she fell. Mom swept her arm out to block Carine.
The three stood frozen, none of them willing to commit to more
dramatic action.

“He’s dead,” Carine said, blurting out the
rest of her explanation. “The Heartless One is dead, I swear. His
body’s by the river. I swear! Please, we’ve bought your bread
before. I promise he’s dead. Don’t kill us.”

The baker wavered. Carine scrambled onto her
feet, but she didn’t dare to stand.

“But there’s no flame.” The baker froze. “The
only way to defeat a Heartless One is to pass him through two
tongues of a dragon’s flame.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Mom said. His
expression said that he wanted to believe them. “See for yourself.
His body’s by the river.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I have five kids.
They can’t live without me or their mom.”

Carine’s system pulsed with adrenaline. She
and Mom bolted east. The baker jumped after them.

At a gap between two houses, Carine skirted
through the alleyway onto a parallel road, grabbing her mom’s hand
and pulling her along. The baker tripped over something behind
them.

“You go on,” Mom said. “I’ll hold him
off.”

Carine pulled her hand, too angry to refuse
out loud. They couldn’t split up—not a chance.

“That ship!” breathed Mom, inching ahead.
“That ship on the right, do you see? Someone’s boarding it. It’s
going to leave Esten!”

Just as she reached the end of the lane,
thirty feet from the abandoned marketplace, the baker beat Carine
back with a heavy hand.

She crashed onto the stone.

Mom swirled and shrieked. Before the baker
could raise his knife, Mom beat him with a rock, and he
tumbled.

“Go,” Mom said as Carine scrambled to
stand.

The baker jumped up and Mom met his eyes.
Carine looked between them, too afraid to leave her mother, but
more afraid to stay still another moment.

“Go!”

Carine darted toward the ship that rocked in
the salty breeze while Mom clattered south, followed by the baker.
By the time Carine turned on the sand, they had both
disappeared.

She was alone.

A rope ladder hung over the side of a cargo
ship. Thirty rungs up, a person stepped from the top rung into the
boat. Someone else leaned over the side to pull the ladder up.

“Wait!” Carine yelped.

Even though the middle-aged man saw her, he
reached again for the ladder.

“Please, wait! I need to board!”

Carine raced toward the red morning horizon,
not even pausing to take off her boots. She ran until she crashed
into knee-deep water, soaking her dress.

“You cannot board, madam,” the man said with
a formality that showed he was a servant used to speaking to a
higher class. “I’m sorry. You cannot.”

He didn’t understand.

She choked on the waves.

With her free hand, Carine grabbed the bottom
rung of the ladder just before it rose out of reach. She coughed,
blinking back seawater. Her eyes stung as she looked to the top of
the ship. Her loose hair floated out around her shoulders.

“You must let go, madam. I need to draw up
the ladder,” the servant said.

Not on her life. She held the rope with one
hand—now two—and gripped so hard that she lost feeling of her
palms.

“Madam!” he called again.

Carine glanced back to the shore, a poor
decision because it only made her tremble. She couldn’t wait
anymore. She had to leave. Gripping the bottom rung with her left
hand, she reached with her right. She caught the next rung and
kicked her slippery, ruined boots onto the ladder.

“Madam,” the servant called, “you can’t come
up!”

Water poured off her clothes in sheets. Her
dress felt like an anchor, her shoes like bricks.

The wind rocked the ship. Her ladder leaned
away from the hull. The ship and the servant nearly toppled over
her. Carine clung to the ladder as the boat rocked the other way.
Her body slammed into the hull, knocking her elbow, knee, and
forehead.

“Don’t come any closer,” warned the servant
as her injuries pounded. With that, he disappeared into the
boat.

Carine disobeyed and climbed.

The man reappeared with three additional
faces, blurred by the stinging water in her eyes.

“Tell the captain to move,” said a clear,
young voice. “We can’t let anyone know that we’re leaving. It
doesn’t bode well for us if someone is already trying to
board.”

The servant nodded and disappeared.

“She’s not a Heartless One,” another young
voice said in surprise. “She can’t be any older than we are.”

“Power is not restricted by age.” This voice
was older, and his tone suggested frowning.

Carine clenched her jaw and reached for the
next rung—success. When she moved her foot, however, it slipped off
the rung. She fell, but grabbed the vertical rope of the ladder so
fiercely that her palms burned, and she managed to keep herself
up.

“If she was a Heartless One,” said the second
boy, “she would use magic to come up.”

“If she
were
,” corrected the first
boy. “Don’t you ever pay attention to your lessons, David?”

David?
Carine looked up. The formality
and youth of the speakers suddenly made sense. David was the name
of one of the young twin princes. If these were Princes David and
Giles, then she was boarding a royal ship.

One glance back to shore reminded her that it
didn’t matter. Even if princes were on board, this was the ship
that was leaving Esten. Carine had to be on it.

“Hello down there!” shouted the second boy,
maybe Prince David.

Carine wince-smiled and bowed her head in due
reverence. Then she reached for the next rung and the next. Just
because he was royalty didn’t mean she would stop climbing.

“Should I shoot her down, Your Majesties?”
the older one asked.

“What? No, Alviar!” said Prince David. “Go
check on Limly.”

Alviar grunted and turned. When he moved
away, his feet clopped like hooves.

Carine reached for the next rung, her heart
racing as she approached royalty for the first time.

The ship was already in motion, not just
laterally, but moving away from shore. If she fell off the ladder
now, she would have to swim back to that horrible place, the place
that used to be home but now meant death.

“Hey,” Prince David said, near enough now so
he didn’t have to raise his voice. “Have you fed your heart to a
dragon at any point?”

Carine looked up, surprised to find that with
this last rung she and the prince were face to face. Prince David
had oversized ears that stuck out under dark, unkempt hair. His
smile was immediately warm, and even though they were eons apart in
status, he looked her straight in the eyes.

She swallowed back nerves, but had no time to
answer. Two long fingers pressed the side of her neck. Prince Giles
had fierce, blue eyes that steadied on hers as his fingers pushed
her vein. This was the check that was done at Navafort’s borders.
Carine felt her blood pound as the second prince took note. The
princes were twins but looked nothing alike.

“She has a pulse,” Prince Giles reported,
with formal language that matched his perfect posture. It wasn’t
just his posture that was perfect. His enunciation, profile, and
sleek, dark, straight hair were perfect too—inspiring even.

He removed his fingers from her neck, and
Carine sighed in relief.

“See?” Prince David turned to his brother.
“Told you.”

“I need to board,” Carine said, hanging with
both arms on the wooden banister. Her feet slipped over the rope
ladder’s last rungs. She pulled herself over the banister, slopping
water onto the deck. It felt like heaven to stand.

The ship’s sails curved white, glorious, and
taut in the wind that propelled them south. Rope piled at the base
of the mast. On deck, half a dozen crew members manned various
stations, completely disinterested in her surprise appearance.
Despite the royalty on board, the crew members wore the casual
layered garments of regular sailors. Even the captain, who stood at
the wheel on the upper deck, looked frazzled and worn as though he
were one with the ship. This was an export vessel, used to take
Navafortian cotton down south to Padliot. The princes must have
commandeered it for their departure: captain, crew, and all.

“You can’t be serious,” said Prince Giles. He
had an angled jaw that seemed to point at her. “Who do you think
you are?”

“I’m Carine Shoemaker of North Esten,” she
answered automatically, hands over her knees now that her two feet
were firmly planted on the deck of a royal-laden ship fleeing the
country. But after a moment of silence, she realized what it meant
to stand in this company.

The princes, young as they were, donned
velvet cloaks over their elaborate vesture: indigo for Prince Giles
and crimson for Prince David. Their boots were of the finest
leather. Their swords hung clean and sparkling at their sides.

Carine fell to her knees and covered her
face. “Your Majesties.”

“Do you have any idea what you have done?”
Prince Giles asked. “You have trespassed not only on a ship but on
the company of royalty. You know what punishment we can give
you.”

Carine clenched her teeth. If they threw her
overboard, she would have to swim back to shore where the baker was
lurking.

“Relax, Giles,” said Prince David. “She’s
scared as anything. Can’t you tell? She’s shivering all over. Who
knows what she’s just been through? Give her a moment.”

“Please, Your Majesties, give me passage. I
don’t care where you’re going. I just don’t want to die.” Carine
swallowed hard. She had no money to offer them and no rank to show
for herself. Her desperation forced her next words. “I can’t go
back to shore, and you don’t want me to either.”

“Why is that?” Prince Giles moved a piece of
his hair back smoothly. His lips were thin lines, his gaze
severe.

“Because,” Carine inhaled, “if I go back to
Esten, the city will know that its leaders are abandoning them.
What would that say about the honor of the Great Marcels?”

Prince Giles raised an eyebrow as a sly smile
curled his lips. “Blackmail?”

Carine cowered. Her one last strand of
courage shriveled at his mocking. “Please, Your Majesty, I’m sorry.
I just need to stay.”

Prince Giles steadied his eyes on hers, but
his expression changed from amusement to assessment.

“You can stay,” Prince David said. He shot a
glance at his brother, as though his declaration were more a
question than a decree.

Prince Giles nodded.

Prince David erupted in a wide grin and
turned to Carine. “We have to get to our studies, but Alviar or
Limly will find you a place to stay on board.”

She could hardly believe her luck. “Thank
you, Your Majesties.” Still kneeling, Carine looked up as Prince
Giles sauntered off, apparently done with the new situation.

The other prince extended his arm. “I’m
David.”

He was the older twin, but he was more boyish
than his brother and seemed younger—or at least, more
approachable.

Carine’s stomach turned as she stared at his
royal hand. The extension of hands was only done between people of
equal rank. Carine bowed instead, letting his hand stay there. “I
know, Your Majesty.”

He gave a little laugh. “We’ll work on that,”
he said, dropping his arm, “and enough with the formalities. We’ll
be on this ship for a week.”

She couldn’t answer. Speaking to a prince was
too terrifying even with formalities. “Can I ask where we’re going,
Your Majesty?”

“David,” he corrected, and then answered,
“Ilmaria.” The island kingdom was just south of Padliot. “It’s not
too far, is it? You’re still coming, right?”

Carine glanced over at the disappearing Esten
and grimaced. The white torch stood empty and powerless, leaving
the city vulnerable to whatever magic floated in.
“Definitely…anywhere but there… anywhere safe.”