The Pirate of Fathoms Deep (12 page)

Shemal surrendered with a sigh. He didn't know why they assumed it was just a matter of time before he became a lord. He wouldn't be a lord except by way of marriage, and that was an assumption even he did not have the nerve to make. Never mind that would be moving a bit fast.

"Any foods you're allergic to or detest? Drinks? Scents?" Bani asked as she led the way out of the suite and into a beautiful hallway.

Shemal vaguely remembered being told Lesto's rooms were part of the imperial wing. He could see the ornate doors, complete with ominous guards, that must lead to the chambers of the High King and Consort down another hallway. "If I'm allergic to something, I've yet to encounter it. I'll eat anything put in front of me, though I'm happier when I don't have to eat fish."

"Really?" Bani's brows rose.

"It's disgraceful, I know, but I've never liked fish," Shemal said with a shrug. He loved his homeland, was proud to be an Islander, but there were too many things about life there that he didn't get along with for him to have ever been happy staying there. He and his family were content with the occasional visit—and they certainly didn't mind all the money he'd sent them over the years.

Bani scribbled something in the small leather-bound journal she'd pulled out of a pocket of her long, fancy-looking scarlet and purple jacket. "You're probably aware this is the imperial wing; access is restricted and rigidly enforced by Fathoms Deep. Sometimes you'll see the Three-headed Dragons instead, on the rare occasion Fathoms Deep is pulled away. The Dragons serve the High Consort, so you'll see them quite a bit in other places. Anyone else, be suspicious. Down that hall, you'll find your way to the public offices of the High King and Consort, Lord Lesto's military offices, other such things. You can get to the judiciary hall, the tax offices, and treasury, as well as a few other places down that hall, but there are shorter routes you'll learn eventually. Going
that
way will take you through some semi-private rooms, then on to the public rooms, eventually to private residence halls. And there are direct lines to the different sections of the palace from the compass hall. Now
this
hall is the fastest way to the banquet hall from here, though if you're downstairs, the rose garden is best."

Shemal tried to tuck all the information away, but he resigned himself to getting lost at least half a dozen times a day for as long as he was allowed to be there. He'd gawked at the size of the imperial palace on the rare occasions he saw it, had been dumbfounded when he'd been dragged into the pavilion because seeing it from a distance did it no justice. There were no words to describe the mass and majesty of it inside.

He understood less and less what Lesto, surrounded by all this beauty and splendor, found appealing in a scruffy pirate with no manners and poor survival instincts.

By the time they made it to the banquet hall, his head was spinning with information. Every last bit of it fled as a silence fell like a wave lapping at the shore, the chatter returning only as he passed every table until Bani led him up the stairs to the table that was obviously where the imperial family and their guests sat. "I don't think I'm supposed to be up here."

"High Consort Allen added your name to the list this morning," Bani said. "If I sat you anywhere else, I'd get my ears blistered and punished with a refresher class in High Court etiquette."

"There are
classes
for that?" Shemal hoped he didn't sound as terrified as he felt.

Bani ducked her head as she burst into giggles, but before Shemal could say anything else, a servant came up with two plates of food, another behind him bearing cups and two pitchers. "We have spiced cider and a golden Hemeria."

Hemeria—that was a word Shemal actually knew. The captain of a ship he'd worked for three years had been obsessed with wine. They'd nearly wound up fish food because the damned man was determined to capture a Tricemorien galleon carrying barrels of Hemerian wine—and about two hundred Penance Gate mercenaries lent out by the High Crown to deal with troublesome pirates.

"The cider," he replied, because he'd drunk an entire cup of Hemerian wine, and the only thing he'd learned was that it wasn't worth getting stabbed and thrown overboard.

He could feel hundreds of eyes on him as he watched. "You weren't exaggerating about the attention I was going to draw. Are they always going to stare at me?"

"The short answer is yes, and you should probably hear the long answer if you want to survive."

"Why do I feel that being a pirate was less hazardous?" Shemal muttered, making her laugh again. He took a long swallow of cider, which was the best he'd ever tasted, and said, "Let's have it."

"Over to your left, gold hair and wearing a bright green jacket," Bani replied, and waited until Shemal had skimmed casually over the room and noted him before continuing. "That is the Lord Tecilia Ketherow, second son of the Duke of Balon. He has long been favored as an ideal match for Lord Lesto. Their estates are in close proximity, both deal heavily in wheat, both are old, wealthy, and powerful titles. Lord Tecilia bought a brewery some time ago and is considered an expert in beer, which would match nicely with the movements into beer that Fathoms Deep has recently begun. He also has a brother in the navy."

"Admiral Ketherow," Shemal said. That was why the name sounded familiar. "He's talked about often as a man to be avoided."

Bani nodded. "That's the one. Lord Tecilia has been the favorite for years, even though any of us who know Lord Lesto could tell you it would never happen. I think people assume that His Majesty will eventually arrange a marriage or force Lesto to finally pick someone." She laughed as Shemal snorted. "Yes, exactly. Lord Lesto manages His Majesty, and in return His Majesty is smart enough not to try and manage Lord Lesto."

Shemal gave Lord Tecilia a longer look, not particularly concerned about being caught staring as the man kept staring openly at him. He was handsome, tending toward pretty, but he also looked soft, all silk and lawn, skin a pale brown, his hair a fluffy golden cloud around his head. "Is he old enough to marry?"

"You sound like Lord Lesto," Bani replied with a small grin. "He's the popular choice at court, though, and the one likely to give you trouble. But some of the older crowd think Lesto will eventually approach Lord Kamir Norring, youngest son of the Viscount of Tesly."

Shemal dragged his eyes away from the gawkers, frowning. "Norring, that name sounds familiar."

"Possibly because they're an exceptionally wealthy family, and moderately powerful, even before they were granted the Tesly title a few generations ago. Tesly and Norring have long histories in Tricemore." Bani replied. "His brother is the heir and tends the family estate while the parents reside here in the palace. His sister is Captain of the Shadow Bell mercenaries."

Shemal's mouth tightened.
That
was why the name sounded familiar. Shadow Bell—all Islanders knew that damned name. Shadow Bell was an old mercenary band, and they believed in a lot of old ways, like conscripting dirty Islanders and putting them at the front lines so the superior Mainland soldiers were less likely to die. "So they're wealthy on blood money."

"Among other things, including shares in several wineries in Tricemore, at least twenty merchant companies, and several rock quarries. They've been trying to marry into a better title for years. Tesly uniting with Fathoms Deep would be the match of the century."

"So where is he?"

"To your right, back two tables, olive skin, blue hair. He married when he was remarkably young, gave birth to twins shortly before divorcing his husband only three years later. Lord Kamir retained exclusive rights to the children. That's one of the reasons they think Lesto will eventually approach him."

"Children?" Shemal asked, stomach giving a lurch when Bani nodded. Suddenly that brief conversation they'd had while escaping Lesto's kidnappers didn't seem so strange or random. Of course Lesto would want—need—children, and marrying someone who already had them was a good idea. Shemal had always taken it for granted that if he settled down and wanted children, he could just adopt them from someone else in his family. It was a fairly common practice given the polyamorous traditions of the island, the way the whole community raised children instead of the isolated way preferred by Mainlanders. Not that he thought Lesto would ever go so far as to marry him… but if he did… would adopting Islander children be acceptable?

His heart started pounding fit to burst, and Shemal hastily shoved all his wild thoughts aside before he succumbed to the urge to run back to his cottage and goats, to the boring, ordinary life he knew how to handle.

"He's definitely a better choice than the fluffy boy," Shemal said.

Bani snickered. "You really do sound like Lesto. Lord Kamir's family has been pining after the Fathoms Deep match for years; rumor has it that's what they wanted all along, but Lord Kamir ruined it when he insisted on marrying for love."

"Worse reasons to marry. Pity it didn't work out for him," Shemal said. He eyed Kamir, who was positively breathtaking, as much as Shemal hated to admit it. His hair was dyed a dark, rich blue, which must have cost a fortune, and fell to his shoulders in soft waves. He smiled shyly at Shemal and gave a slight nod before turning his attention back to the book set out in front of him.

Huh. Kamir acted more like an ally than a rival. Shemal snorted. Rival. Yes. That was what he was, a rival for Lesto's hand in the High Court. Mother Ocean, the fancy life was already going to his head.

Shemal turned back to Tecilia, who dropped his gaze when he saw Shemal looking, curling his fingers tightly around the spoon in his hand.

It was like looking over a lineup of guppy sailors and trying to pick out the ones that were going to harass him because they hated Islanders—an attitude that either vanished quickly as they realized how stupid they were, or got them killed in a hurry because sailors who couldn't cooperate didn't last long.

He focused on his lunch as Bani kept rambling about other lords and ladies, gossip, parties, festivals, more information to be added to the chaos spinning through his head. It was almost a relief when they finished because she switched back to explaining the palace itself as they walked through it, and that was somewhat easier to deal with than all the people.

They'd just finished looking at something she'd called the Blue Night Garden when a familiar voice caught Shemal as fiercely as a riptide. "—one good reason I shouldn't crack your heads like a walnut! When I put you in charge of patrols, I meant for you to take charge and supervise my soldiers, act like the fucking officers I am trusting you to be! Not dally at a pub talking to a nice pair of tits. By the time I'm done with the lot of you, you're never going to want—"

Lesto broke off as he realized the soldiers he was tearing apart were looking past him and whipped around—and all the tension drained from his shoulders. The anger on his face turned into a smile. "Shemal. You look rested." Without sparing the soldiers so much as a glance, acting for all the world like they were no longer there, Lesto strode across the yard to join Shemal and Bani. "I hope your day is going well. Thank you again, Bani, for showing him around."

Bani bowed. "It's been a pleasure, Commander. So far we've had an excellent day, I think."

"Good," he said gruffly then turned back to Shemal. "I assume you've had lunch?"

Shemal nodded. Lesto looked eminently kissable, but he was pretty sure he'd get punched for doing that in front of men Lesto was two steps from killing. "Should I let you finish eviscerating your soldiers?"

Lesto made a face, but instead of looking back at the soldiers, he turned and motioned to a man Shemal hadn't noticed before. "Jader."

Jader crossed the yard to join them. He was even thinner than Lesto and had skin the color of snow. Shemal would have thought he was sick except it had too much healthy luster to it, and he looked fit in every other way. He was slightly taller than Lesto, with pale brown eyes and hair as black as his skin was white, short and plastered to his skull. He wore the uniform of the imperial army, even the leather armor he wouldn't need working in the palace all day. Strangely, he had two swords, one at each hip. Like Lesto, he had a presence about, even when doing nothing, that practically shouted he was in charge and would brook no argument.

Gripping the man's shoulder tightly, Lesto said, "This is Deputy High Commander Jader Star, my second in command and the poor bastard soon to be taking my place."

Surprise filled Jader's face. "Soon to be? You're actually going to retire, old dog?"

"Watch it, pup," Lesto said, but with a smile. He shook Jader's shoulder then let go. "This is Shemal shey Variago, my lover."

Jader grinned, flicked his nose with the middle knuckle of one finger. "From what I hear, everyone is going with Lord Shemal." He extended one hand, palm up.

Startled, Shemal accepted it, wrapping his fingers lightly around Jader's wrist.

"Well met,"
Jader said in perfect Islander. He grinned at Shemal's surprise.
"I know, I'm way too pasty to be allowed on a beach. I washed up on one as a child, actually, when the ship I was on wrecked. They tried to make me the right color, but it never worked. I just come out looking like a cooked lobster. My mother still despairs."

"You're the beached fish from the Belarigo family. I've heard of you but never that you climbed this high in the imperial army. Then again, I don't go home much."

"Neither do I. My mother is pleased with me, but my father and brothers less so. That's one of the reasons I go by Star instead of Belarigo."
Jader shrugged and withdrew his hand.
"I think Lesto is collecting Islanders."

"I don't know what you just said, but you can fuck off," Lesto retorted. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Go do something that will make them cry for the next twelve hours and leave them unable to move for the next twelve days. I want them to remember their suffering for a long time."