As I dragged the net back inside the boat and dropped it into the hull, I reached for the other pair of oars. Fowler hopped up onto the front bench, standing at the ready, his hunting knife drawn.
Another boat containing half a dozen men emerged from the mist and scraped our hull. With tightening muscles, I dropped the oars and lunged for my spear, but with the net thrown in haphazardly, my fingers fumbled to find the handle. Shouts erupted around us, and new footfalls thumped into our boat, rocking it and weighing it down.
Abandoning my efforts at wielding my spear, I jumped to my feet with my knife in hand. Though I was most proficient with a spear, I was skilled with any weapon. My father’s weapons master had made sure of that. Before my attacker could swing, I ducked, pivoted, and grabbed him in a headlock, pressing my blade against his chest.
Ahead, Fowler exchanged sword blows with another intruder. And behind me Gregor was doing the same. A quick look told me all I needed to know. Irontooth’s band was assailing us.
Of all the threats facing us this morn, I’d neglected to consider our rivals on the island. In truth, I had no issue with the other group of outcasts. I’d never met them, had only seen the several Blade had recently captured and enslaved. From what I could tell, they were no different or worse in their physical limitations than anyone in our group. And yet, the bands had been warring with each other for years.
Now with one of Irontooth’s outcasts within my grip and arms pinned at his back, I was loathe to hurt the poor soul. If not for fate, he could have been my companion during my Testing instead of Fowler. Gregor and I had just happened to land on the area of the island closest to Blade’s camp and had been intercepted by his men instead of Irontooth’s.
The clang of metal and the grunts of fighting rose into the fog. I needed to put an end to the skirmish to prevent anyone from sustaining serious injury.
“Hold your weapons!” I repositioned my blade against my captive’s neck, which was covered with a strange black material. “And your man will remain safe.”
“Man?” said a decidedly feminine voice from the person I was holding.
I dropped my gaze to find a pair of beguiling green eyes peering at me. Even though the black silky material rose above my captive’s nose, leaving the top quarter of the face visible, I was left with no doubt that this was a woman—a very comely woman.
“Unhand me.” She spoke smoothly, though her voice was somewhat muffled behind the veil. “As you can see, I am no man.”
Yes, I could see that. This was no mere peasant or tradesman’s daughter. Something in her tone and the way she held herself told me she was a woman of some bearing, perhaps of noble birth.
I let my knife fall away. I would have released a poor woman too. I wasn’t predisposed to the rich. Was I?
Before I could figure out my next step, the woman twisted out of my grasp and elbowed me with a force that left me gasping for breath. Then before I knew what she was doing, she bent, grasped me from behind, and flipped me over her back. I landed in the hull with a crack that knocked any remaining air from my lungs.
An instant later, she was standing upon my arms, this time with her knife pressed against my neck. “Hold your weapons.” Her bright eyes captured mine as she mocked me with the words I’d spoken moments earlier. “And your man will remain safe.”
I attempted to move my hands to protect myself, but the heels of her boots ground into my wrists, and excruciating pain shot up my arm.
From the quiet at the back of the boat, I could tell Gregor had stopped fighting his opponent. But ahead, Fowler continued to battle a man twice his size with an abnormally big head and enormous ears.
Even though Fowler fought valiantly, he lurched about and bumped into the side of the boat. The rocking motion threw him off balance, and he started to fall overboard. His opponent grabbed him, placing a swift blow across his head and knocking him out.
The woman on top of me didn’t let up on the pressure on my wrists, and I gritted my teeth to keep from shouting at her.
As though recognizing my self-control, her eyes flashed with more mocking humor. “See that you and your manservant cooperate.” She nodded toward Gregor. “Or you will both be rendered unconscious too.”
My servant? How did this woman know Gregor was my servant and not my master?
She gave a disdainful bow. “My lord, you do not belong on this island. And Irontooth aims to find out who you are and why you are here.”
Chapter
2
Pearl
My prisoner was handsome. I don’t know why that fact stood out to me, but it did nonetheless. Strands of his shoulder-length fair hair were plaited into small braids on one side of his face. The scruffy layer of stubble on his jaw and chin was slightly darker in coloring, making the blue of his eyes all the brighter and more alluring. The rest of his features—his nose, mouth, cheekbones—were flawless, almost regal.
While spying, Toad had heard the eye-patch man calling his companion Mikkel and ordering him around. In return, Mikkel had addressed the eye-patch man as Sir Gregor. Toad hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Mikkel didn’t belong on the island and that he carried himself with the bearing of a lord.
One well-placed word on my part had confirmed the truth: Mikkel was not a servant.
He bucked against me so sharply and suddenly my hold upon his hands wavered. He took advantage of my inattention by rolling away from my boots and blade. An instant later he was on his feet, a spear in his hand aimed at me.
Not only was he noble and handsome, but he was well trained.
Fortunately, I was also well trained after living on the island for the past year and spending every spare moment learning all I could about weaponry and fighting. Before he could make another move, I had my bow up and an arrow pointed at him.
“Go ahead and throw your spear . . . if you wish to die today.”
With a sweeping glance, he took in the boat behind me with three of my companions inside, all wielding weapons at the ready. Then his gaze rested upon me. Wearing a man’s tunic, breeches, and boots, I made a dismal picture, though his narrowed eyes revealed naught, not even the repugnance I was certain he must be feeling at seeing a woman attired as a man. He was surely also wondering what deformity I was covering with my veil.
Irontooth and Felicity were the only two who knew the truth about my veil and why I was hiding behind it. Once I’d revealed my identity to them, they’d agreed I would be safer if no one else knew. Never in all the months since then had I felt the urge to show myself. Until this moment . . .
For a reason I couldn’t explain, I wished I could give this fine-looking stranger a glimpse of my face and earn his appreciation, not his disdain.
Slowly, he lowered his spear. “I have no wish to meet my Maker this day . . . my lady.” His blue eyes challenged me to deny his use of the title. In some ways he was right. I was nobility. But I was also so much more. Or was I? When I ran away from Warwick last summer, I left behind my title, power, and rights. And when my mother had proclaimed the news of the hunting accident and my death, perhaps Princess Pearl truly died after all.
Perhaps Veil was all who remained.
“Want us to tie ’em up, Veil?” Toad asked from where he stood with his knife pressed against Gregor.