“What is that, Captain? A fish of some kind?”
Volin’s frown deepened as he moved closer to see what I was talking about. My ladies were successfully diverted as well, clustering around me to stare down at the massive, dark forms shimmering into view through the milky waves.
Larger by far than any animal I had ever seen on land, the sleek forms were as black as onyx – though I glimpsed striking white markings as they darted through the water. Each one had a triangle shaped fin on its back and a long, elegant tail. They swam around each other, diving and flipping in intricate patterns, as if involved in some private game. As we watched, one of them seemed to somersault in the water – a breathtaking move for such a large animal – and then leaped right out of the waves in a graceful arc that had all of us gasping aloud. As it splashed spectacularly back down to its fellows, I couldn’t help noticing that its mouth, which had gaped open in a kind of predatory grin as it jumped, was large enough to swallow at least one or two of us, if it so wished.
The sounds of their play echoed through the hull of the ship: sharp hoots and yips, long, ululating moans and deep grunts.
“Are they – singing then?” Ane asked me. “Like birds?”
I had no answers, but I found, to my surprise, that I would have liked to learn. One of the animals had a great, rippling scar running down its black-skinned side, making a triangular notch in the fin on its back. I wondered if its fellows shunned it for its imperfection. They didn’t seem to.
They are only animals, and know no better.
“What are they?” I repeated Ane’s question to the Captain in Silingan.
He didn’t answer. I looked away from the creatures circling the boat, and saw that many of the crew had abandoned their tasks to gather at the rails too. Their faces as they stared at the creatures held none of the curiosity or awe of my ladies’ expressions; I thought they seemed unhappy. Anxious.
“Whales,” the Captain answered finally. His face and voice held a new shade of grimness. “We call them killer whales, or orcas. The great predators of the sea. And a very bad omen indeed.”
“Bad – omen?” Sereh said, puzzled. “What is that word?”
“They are harbingers. A warning. The orcas only surface near our ships when a storm is approaching,” Volin told her, squinting up at the sky, his attention clearly elsewhere. “A serious storm. I’m afraid we will not make landfall today after all. I’d advise you ladies to get below decks – ”
There was a shout from the top of the mast. Like dancing puppets we all turned to look up. With some difficulty I made out a tiny figure, fearlessly braced on one of the horizontal wooden struts that held up the sails. It shouted again and this time I made out the words: “Ship ahoy!”
“What? That’s far too soon, no ship is that fast – ” The Captain broke off, his face turning horribly white under the freckles. “What ship?” he suddenly bellowed, loud enough to make Ane and Sereh flinch away from him.
“It’s The Ice Blade, Captain!”
Volin swore viciously – so viciously that I only understood about half the words. To my amusement, Sereh, who had obviously understood at least some of the same words, stepped protectively in front of me. This seemed to recall him to our presence and he cleared his throat, his cheeks turning mottled purple. It was an improvement on the ghastly paleness, but not entirely flattering.
“Is there something wrong, Captain?” I asked mildly, pressing Sereh aside.
“My sincere apologies, your Royal Highness,” he said, clearing his throat. “I was taken unawares. The Ice Blade is the fastest iron-hull in our fleet. It is the Prince’s ship.”
Don’t blush. Don’t flinch. Control yourself. Control. I swallowed, the thundering in my ears making it impossible to know if my voice sounded normal as I spoke: “His Royal Highness the Crown Prince? Prince Uldarana?”
“Yes. And right at the worst possible time,” he finished in a mutter, staring down at the dark forms of the killer whales again. But I wasn’t listening anymore. The man to whom I would soon be engaged was coming to meet me.
Too late to change your mind now. Too late to go back.
Sereh began rapidly whispering to the other two Yamarri women, translating for them. They broke into excited smiles.
A smile of any kind had never been further from my lips. Oh Gods, oh merciful Triple Gods, it was happening now. He was coming here, now. What was I supposed to do? Control, Theoai, control...
The Captain was excusing himself. Despite my efforts my face must have reflected a little – only a little, surely – of my inner turmoil. Sereh tentatively took my arm, and when I didn’t reject the touch Elo and Ane moved closer, surrounding me with rippling coloured silks and gentle voices.
“Remember, he will be just as nervous as you are,” Sereh said. “But he is eager to see you! He’s come all this way just to see you a little earlier! That can only be a good sign.”
Elo nodded eagerly. Ane added, “This also means your meeting will be less formal. You might even have a chance to talk to him alone, if we can manage it.”
I didn’t want to talk to him alone. I didn’t want him to be eager to meet me. I didn’t want any of this. The words tried to tear free of my tightly-pressed lips in a child’s howl of denial. Make him go away!
Again, my expression must have betrayed me. Sereh made a gentle cooing noise and stroked my arm, her large amber eyes filled with genuine concern. The two younger ones exchanged an alarmed look: what do you do when your Princess is panicking?
What indeed? What was I doing right now? Where was my pride? My spine? If I allowed myself to wallow in my own weakness I was heading for another episode, medicine or no medicine. Abruptly I was exasperated with myself and shamed by my own cowardice.
You chose this, I reminded myself. No one forced it on you. You sacrificed everything you had left for this chance. The chance to earn back a crown. The chance to be Queen, even if not of your own realm. Stop whining and whimpering and act like a Queen!
I forced my face back into my best semblance of serenity. I straightened my back and lifted my chin. “Do I look pale?” I asked. “Has the wind disarranged my hair?”
Sereh gave me a warm smile of approval. “Not at all. You look charming.”
“Very well then. Find me somewhere to sit that is out of everyone’s way, and – we shall await Prince Uldarana’s arrival.”
What approaches is the prize you sought, Theoai. Do not dread it. Do not fear it. Seize it!
The crew scurried to and fro on their peculiar tasks, tying things down, folding up the sails, in preparation for the arrival of both storm and Prince. Sereh bullied a folding chair out of one of the officers for my use, and positioned it in a corner. I sat, folded my hands, and tried to focus. Not on anything in particular, but just on what I could see and hear in this moment. On being present in my body, as the Whisperers had taught me.
The sky was growing darker. The days were short in this part of the world in the winter season. A glance at the clouds showed they were deepening from grey to a faintly purple shade I had never seen before. It was rather pretty and entirely unlike the boiling, sulphurous yellow masses of storm clouds back home. The wind was dropping too, a welcome relief for my chapped lips and frozen ears. Perhaps the Captain was wrong and the orcas had simply been in a playful mood today. I hoped so. If the ship began rocking and swaying as it had done during the last storm, it would be out of my power to make a good impression on the Crown Prince. I would be more likely to beg him for a merciful death.