Blood coated her as she tried to hold him up. There was shouting in the hall. The pounding of boots. Finally, some help. The door opened, and guards poured in.
“Call for a physician, quickly,” Shereen exclaimed. “My father has been attacked.”
“Take the princess into custody,” shouted Captain Infiero instead, his fiery red hair rising in tight curled locks. His broken nose went with the set look of his square jaw. Handsome fellow, shame about his personality.
She blinked. “Arrest me? For what?”
The captain, whose overtures had been rebuffed over the past year, looked right at her and said, a hint of smugness in the tone, “The murder of the king.”
“Liar. You know she did no such thing,” her father sputtered.
The captain didn’t change expressions as he said, “But no one will know that once you’re dead.” He turned to the other soldiers. “Grab her while I finish him off.”
Disbelief had her rooted to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. This was blatant mutiny. A coup that was already bloody.
“You won’t have my daughter.” Father stood tall as he said it, a king who’d managed to rule kindly for more than forty years. A seemingly benign monarch. They’d forgotten how he came to power.
Father drew all the water in the room to himself—from the pitcher by his bed, the cup, and most especially the ever-spewing fountain in the wall. The liquid formed a shield, blocking the soldiers.
Shereen sprinted to the balcony and turned to wait for her father, but he wasn’t joining her. A watery strand snaked from the fountain, drawing from the reserve down below. It wrapped around her waist, a wet tentacle that lifted her from the floor.
Tears in her eyes, Shereen whispered to her father, “No. I don’t want to say good-bye.”
“You have to.”
She felt his love for her in the quick determination of the watery arm that turned into a wave. It arced from the balcony and fell down, rushing her with it, and she could only pray she wouldn’t actually hit the ground. She preferred to not end up as tenderized meat.
She closed her eyes. Waited for impact.
Didn’t die.
The water rebounded from the ground and kept her aloft. She coasted along. Voices shouted out in alarm as the mini tidal wave rushed down the streets. Her father must have dropped his shield to pour this much power into helping her escape.
She had a moment to wonder where it took her when the wave collapsed. No warning, just a sudden splat on the ground where she lay blinking wet lashes. With a painful jolt, she realized her father was dead. Her breath caught in a hitching sob. Then another as the impossibility of her situation hit.
“I’m all alone.”
She didn’t realize she said it aloud until a gruff voice said, “No, ye ain’t.”
Chapter 2
Alone once more on his ship, Darius was done socializing. No more guests for a while.
After the week he’d had—his niece going missing, abdicating the responsibility his brother tried to give him, and barely escaping a city in the midst of a revolution—Darius needed some quiet.
A shame he couldn’t just drop anchor somewhere and enjoy a moment of nothingness. The oceans didn’t encourage that kind of behavior. A ship always had to be moving unless in a protected bay, and even then, there were no guarantees. He still recalled the Bay of Lords—which oddly had more ladies. A Krakus had destroyed the entire dock and warehouse area not even a year ago, and then there were the Isles of Song. More than one sailor drowned himself because of the melodies that haunted through them.
Once he dropped off his brother—His Majesty Roark the First of the Marshlands, and a decent dude if a bit too serious—Darius headed to the nearest island, promising his crew a few days at dock. Maybe while he was there, he’d inquire about the latest news from Port City, the one he’d barely managed to flee.
Last he’d heard, the king was dead and the princess was accused of murdering him, which Darius was skeptical about. He’d met the meek girl some time ago. He doubted her ability to wield a butter knife let alone one sharp enough to stab.
True or not, it caused chaos, or so he heard over some ale in the Sloppy Mug Tavern while they were docked at the Isle of Teeth. The jagged rocks did appear oddly like some dentition, the ivory color especially odd. He’d once heard a story from an old man that they lived in the jaws of some great sleeping creature and one day it would wake up and swallow them whole. Darius made it a point to never stay long, but he did always stop in for a few drinks. Best place to catch up on the news.
According to every sailor and traveler who gladly accepted a tankard of the finest grog in exchange for information on the Sapphire port city, there’d been an uprising. Infighting with the Enclave at first, and then the effect rippled outward. There was civil unrest, and while no violence yet, it simmered under the surface.
The princess remained missing. Probably for the best. Even if she hadn’t killed her father, having her around would be an issue if the rumors were true.
Apparently, the princess had no power. It had skipped her despite blessing the king with a mighty water gift. A queen with no magic couldn’t possibly rule the most powerful city on the continent and a crucial port when it came to travel. By the time the longer faring ships reached Sapphire, they were in dire need of repairs and food. The world was a hard place.
Even harder for a princess with no special ability. It appeared certain factions wanted to ensure she was dead and offered a bounty on her.
“There’s actually three offers for the princess.” The one-eyed man, whose hands ended in suckers, eagerly spilled everything he’d heard for the full-sized tankard of ale Darius bought.
“Three? That many people want her dead?” Darius questioned.
“Only one of the bounties says dead or alive. It’s not the best paying one either. The prize for the one that delivers her alive to the Marsh king is twice the amount and comes with a house in the Marsh city of Eden. I hear it’s a paradise,” the sailor said wistfully.
“It is,” Darius agreed. He’d seen Eden more than a few times. Admired what had been done. His brother Roark had built Eden from the ruins of a place long gone, creating a new kingdom to rival the Enclave ones and gave its citizens freedom and justice. “What’s the third bounty?” he asked, having only heard about two thus far.
“The third one is the most tempting of all.” The sailor leaned forward, his nose flat, the nostrils prominent. The single eye had yet to blink. It had no need given the membrane covering it kept it moist. “They’re offering ten bags of Toxic Dust.”
“Ten?” Fuck. People would sell out their own family for that kind of wealth.
“But only if she’s alive.”
Meaning they had some vile purpose for her. “Who’s making the bargain?” He wondered who had access to that kind of dust. The drug, valuable because of its euphoric attributes, had pretty much dried up when the Emerald queen died. She’d taken the secret of its location with her.
“It’s being handled by a broker. The Ghost.”
The most private broker for misdeeds in all the world. He resided on the pleasure island of Tawa.
“So the deal is to find the princess and drop her off to collect the reward?”