It had been two years since Evan lost Destin Karn, gained his first ship, and won control of the port of Tarvos. Two years during which he’d been in constant motion, building his fleet and his Stormborn crew in the ports along the Desert Coast and taking them across the Indio to the hunting grounds in the wetlands.
He couldn’t afford to dawdle. As soon as Celestine realized who the new stormlord was, she’d hounded him mercilessly at sea until the loss of three ships forced her to respect his growing power. After that, she came at him mostly through trickery, bribery, and subterfuge.
Most of his crew members came from among the empress’s bloodsworn. He’d taken Cloud Spirit back from Celestine a year ago, when he’d spotted her off Gryphon Point with a full hold and a light crew, including his former shipmates Brody Baines, Abhayi Arya, and Teza Von. Evan had hoped to find Tully aboard, but his luck didn’t extend that far.
It wasn’t difficult to persuade them to drink the brew of allegiance. The empress, it seemed, was not an easy mistress, and they’d not gone willingly into her service.
Evan was glad to be back among familiar faces, though it was difficult sometimes to navigate the change in their relationship. In the space of four years he’d gone from being a kind of shipboard mascot to being “Lord Strangward,” the central deity of a Stormborn cult. All around him, he felt the constant pressure of avid eyes. It was exhausting.
Despite frequent visits to ports in the wetlands, it had taken Evan the better part of a year to track Destin down in the capital at Ardenscourt. But when he’d reached out to him, there had been no response. When he persisted, Destin had sent a brief, curt note telling Evan to let go and move on, that any continuing correspondence would put them both in danger.
No matter what kind of shine Evan wanted to put on it, the message was clear—they had no future, as far as Destin was concerned. A romance on the beach—was that all it had been? It came down to one kiss and a lot of longing—on his part, anyway. It seemed that Destin had been seeking a business partner and nothing more.
And so Evan had done his best to move on. There were other, less complicated lovers in the ports on both sides of the Indio, boys who offered sweet kisses and warm embraces. Still, none could surprise and delight and challenge him like the soldier. Unfortunately, it seemed that Evan preferred complicated and dangerous to simple and sweet.
And then, out of the blue, a note from Destin, this urgent request for a meeting.
Evan knew that it could be a trap. The empress might have discovered the connection between them and used it against him. Back home, he’d already turned away one would-be lover who’d been sent to lure him into Celestine’s arms.
Then again, the empress might have nothing to do with it. Evan’s growing fleet had hammered shipping along the wetland coast, sometimes attacking the ports themselves. The price on his head increased with every taking under his stormcaster flag, whether he was personally involved or not. The capture of the stormlord might be the win that Destin needed to get ahead at the wetland court.
There was no way to justify taking this risk, and yet Evan couldn’t stay away. His crew couldn’t understand it, and made it clear they disapproved.
And so he found himself in the Ardenine port of Baston Bay in the shrinking days just before Solstice.
The city rose from the ocean’s edge like a fine lady whose skirts drag in the muck at the hem. Up above were the mansions of merchants and sea captains, with their towers and widow’s walks. Farther down, a mingle of modest houses and shops. And finally, down at the waterfront, the clicket-houses and taverns and gritty maritime businesses that served the shipping trade.
As the major deepwater port serving the Ardenine capital and the down-realms, the Bay seethed with commerce of all kinds, licit and illicit. Evan had been in the city a number of times over the past two years—though, more often, he’d lain offshore, waiting for some of that commerce to come his way. The richest cargoes and the prime ships came and went through Baston Bay.
This time, though, Evan wasn’t thinking about cargo. He was thinking of a boy who liked to build things. A boy with a wellspring of pain hidden behind his stony face, his eyes the only window into a dark history.
The meeting was to take place at the Barrister’s Inn, one of those places where the name promises more than the establishment delivers. Evan couldn’t imagine that any self-respecting barrister would be seen in this hangdog little dive on the Heartfang River, just west of the harbor itself. Maybe that was why Destin had suggested it.
And now, here Evan was, dressed in his best leathers and linen, Destin’s amulet resting against his chest, Destin’s dog sprawled like a warm rug over his feet. Evan, as nervous as any untouched groom on his wedding day, was surrounded by an unlikely crew of pierced and tattooed chaperones. The only other people in the taproom were the bartender and a table of seamen deep in their cups.
Evan had been watching all the comings and goings through the front door, so he was surprised when one of the seamen heaved himself out of his chair and strolled over to their table. “Lieutenant Rocheford has asked you to join him in the back room,” he said in Common.
“Lieutenant . . . Rocheford?”
“Aye,” the suddenly sober seaman said. “He says the two of you used to go salmon fishing together when you were young. He’d like to buy you a drink.”
Only Destin would know that, which meant either the meeting was on the level, or Destin had betrayed him in great detail.
He kept secrets when you were together. There’s every reason to think that he’s still at it.
Across the table, Brody Baines scowled and shook his head. The message was clear: Don’t fall for it.
“Ah,” Evan said. “Now I remember.” He stood, and the others pushed back their chairs, too.
“He wants to meet with you alone,” the seaman said, stepping into their path. “He says you’ll understand once you hear what he has to say.”
“No, Captain,” Teza Von said quickly, putting his bulk in the way of the seaman. He made an impressive wall. “If he wants to talk to you, he can do it out here.” The rest of the crew muttered agreement.
That was when Breaker burst out from under the table, charged across the room, and began flinging himself at the back door, bouncing off, and doing it all over again.
Evan’s heart all but stopped, and then it seemed like he couldn’t get his breath. It was true. Destin was—he must be—just on the other side of that door. Evan had to take this chance. He had to.
“Wait here,” he said to his crew. “I’ll call you in if it goes wrong.”
“But what if we’re too late?” Jorani cried. She was the newest addition to the crew, and the youngest.
“Make sure you’re not,” Evan said. He crossed to the door, nudged Breaker to the side with his foot, and opened the door. As soon as it opened wide enough, the dog shot past him and into the back room.
And, there, in a chair by the fire, was Destin Karn, fending off Breaker the demon dog, who was doing his best to lick him in the face. When Destin looked up at Evan, Breaker finally made contact and then, apparently satisfied, curled up in Destin’s lap.
Evan turned, nodded reassurance to his crew, then stepped across the threshold, pulling the door shut behind him. “I brought your dog back,” he said, leaning against the door.
“So I see,” Destin said, stroking Breaker’s head. His face was concealed, then revealed by the light from the flickering flames. He was dressed entirely in black—the colors of the Ardenine King’s Guard. Evan wondered if that was intentional—meant to maintain a distance between them. “It seems that you have acquired the ability to raise the dead.”
“Some of the dead, some of the time,” Evan said. He paused. “Are you with the King’s Guard now?” He gestured toward the uniform.
Destin nodded. “I’m in a . . . particular division of the King’s Guard. Outside of the normal chain of command.”
“Does the fact you came in costume indicate that you’re here in an official capacity?”
Destin laughed. “If I were here in an official capacity, you would be in chains. You’ve become quite notorious, here in the wetlands. I’m proud of you, Pirate.” He pushed a chair out with his booted foot. “Would you like to sit down?”
Feeling a little foolish, Evan crossed the room and sat down in the chair nearest the hearth. Still country to this city boy. If Evan was deadly, Destin was always deadlier.
Evan had grown, but Destin had grown, too, so that the soldier still had a good three inches on him. He was thinner, too, though maybe the proper word was honed. Honed by whatever had happened since they’d been apart. Honed into a sleek and deadly weapon for the wetland king.
The silence between them grew until it was awkward. For two years Evan had dreamed of this meeting, and now he had nothing to say.
“I believe this is your meeting,” he said finally.
Destin lifted a decanter of amber liquid, poured for himself, and then extended it toward Evan. “Would you like any—?”
“No, thank you,” Evan said. He needed a clear head to pick his way through this minefield of a meeting. “I’m—I just had something.”
Destin’s smile was hard-edged, bitter, almost a grimace. “A wise move, Pirate. Never accept a drink from me. I am the midwife who delivers the king’s enemies into hell.” Destin swirled the liquid in his glass and drank it down, his throat jumping. The message seemed clear. I am not for you, and you are not for me.
“Am I one of the king’s enemies, Des?” Evan asked softly.
“Well, there is a heavy price on your head,” Destin said, studying his empty glass, as if deciding whether to refill it. “However, as an official of the king, I’m not allowed to collect.”
“Too bad,” Evan said. He lifted the hammer-and-tongs amulet from around his neck, wadded the chain in his hand, and extended it toward Destin. “Thank you for the loan of your amulet.”
“Keep it,” Destin said, waving it away. “I replaced it a long time ago.”
Evan slipped the chain over his head, pleased to feel the familiar weight of the flash against his skin. He fished a small velvet bag from inside his coat and slid it across the table, feeling like a suitor offering a series of unworthy gifts. “I saved your mother’s ring and locket for you.” He pulled a leather-wrapped bundle from his carry bag and set it next to the rest. “And . . . your father’s dagger. In case you wanted that, too.”
Surprise cleared the bitterness from Destin’s face. “You . . .” He stopped, swallowed hard, and brushed his long fingers across the leather, then met Evan’s gaze for the first time. “Thank you. It’s my mother’s dagger, actually,” he said, a bit of color staining his pale cheeks. “My father took it away from her the first time she tried to defend herself.” He paused, as if steeling himself to go on. “She’s alive, you know. My mother, I mean. If you can call it that.”
Evan sat forward, a spark of hope kindling in his middle. “Frances is alive?”
Destin nodded. “She lives with her family in Tamron.”
Memories flooded in. Frances asking Evan to stay on and be a friend to her son. I think you both have lessons to teach each other. Frances saying to Dustin, I’ve lost so much. I don’t want to lose you, too.
“Can I—? I would love to see her again.”
“No,” Destin said, with a bleak finality. “You wouldn’t. Leave well enough alone.” That seemed to be the theme of the entire conversation.
Then why have a meeting at all?
“What about your father?”
“Still living,” Destin said.
“Why?” Evan met Destin’s eyes directly. If you’re such a dangerous, despicable, ruthless person.
“He’s not the king’s enemy,” Destin said. “Not yet.” He shifted his eyes away and methodically refilled his glass. “Why do you think he brought my mother back alive? The general has made it clear that if anything happens to him, Frances and her family will pay a dear price. But he knows it’s a card he can play only once, so right now, it’s a standoff. He’d better get down on his knees every night and pray for their good health.”
“I’ll kill him for you, if you want,” Evan said. “Though, admittedly, it would be easier if you could lure him to the coast. Even better, suggest a father-son fishing trip.”
Destin laughed, low in his throat. “Thank you, Pirate,” he said, “but killing is something I’m actually quite good at. The general is mine. I can wait.” He fingered Breaker’s ears, ruffling up his fur. “Is it my imagination, or has my dog joined the bloodsworn? I couldn’t help noticing that he and your crew share a certain reddish glow.”
“It’s not your imagination,” Evan said, “though I prefer the term ‘Stormborn.’” He explained what had happened at the cottage and after.
“So, how does it work, this blood magic?”
Evan hesitated. He hadn’t shared this with anyone else. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of.
“It is a magic I share with the empress. My blood has the power to raise the recent dead and nearly dead. Once raised, the Stormborn are fearless, exceedingly strong, impervious to pain, and unflinchingly loyal.”
“The perfect soldier,” Destin murmured.
“There is a price to be paid,” Evan said. “They lose some of their mental edge, creativity, decision-making ability, and the like. And the desire for more blood never leaves them.”
“I’m surprised at you,” Destin said, his face mingling grudging respect and a trace of surprise. “You used to be annoyingly ethical.”
“I’m a pirate, not a priest,” Evan snapped. “Most of my crews are converts from the empress’s bloodsworn that I bind with my blood. That takes them out of Celestine’s hands and delivers to me the most experienced sailors and fighters. They also know her weaknesses and strengths.”
“Is that how you justify it?” Destin raised an eyebrow. Same eyebrow, same way. Joltingly familiar.
“They are all given a choice—stay with the empress and die, or serve me and live. Most don’t find it a difficult decision.” Evan took a breath, forcing his muscles to relax. There was no reason to be defensive. It was just Destin, pulling whatever chain he could get hold of. “I do what’s necessary to stay alive, and make a living. Tarvos is thriving. I’ve made it into a sanctuary and fortress that the empress can’t breach. The Guardians stand watch when I am not there.”
“So you’ve figured out how to use them?” Destin said, brightening. “Did that manuscript I found—?”
“That manuscript you found was a lifesaver,” Evan said. “Thank you.”
“What about Celestine? Any meet-ups with the empress in the north?” Destin toyed with his mother’s dagger, as if half-listening, but something in the way he said it suggested he was striking close to the bone.
“She used to stalk me continually, every time I put to sea,” Evan said. “After losing several ships, she learned to keep her distance, for fear of being swamped. However, I believe the price on my head in Carthis is higher than the one your king is offering. Which is why I need a crew I can trust.”
Destin studied Evan’s face, the heat of his scrutiny bringing the blood up under his skin. “It seems what I’ve been hearing about you is true.”
“That depends,” Evan said. “What have you been hearing?”
“I am the spymaster for the king now, Pirate. I have eyes and ears across the Indio. They call you the Stormcaster of the Desert Coast and the Scourge of the Wetlands. They say you’re the only one who still defies the empress in the east. They say you are ruthless.”
Evan half-shrugged, oddly touched that Destin had been keeping track of him. “I suppose you could still call me the lord of the ocean, but Celestine has gobbled up nearly all the land. Sooner or later I have to put in to a port, and the only stronghold I have along the Desert Coast is Tarvos. Even that’s becoming more and more dangerous.” He paused, then forged ahead. “When you called me here, I thought maybe you intended to cash in.”
“No,” Destin said, “but it does have to do with the empress.” He released a long breath. “You see, a few months ago, my king sent me to Delphi to hunt down a girl with a magemark.”
Evan listened with growing alarm as Destin told his story. He’d always known this would happen—sooner or later the empress would run down her quarry and add another weapon to her armory. But to know it was actually happening was like a bolt to the heart.
“Her name is Jenna?” Evan found himself wishing that he’d accepted Destin’s offer of a drink.
“That’s the name she goes by now. Jenna Bandelow.”
“Bandelow,” Evan repeated, as if that would deliver some insight. That was not a name that Celestine had mentioned the day they’d first met, but then again, she’d only named the ones she’d already found. “You’ve seen her magemark?”
Destin nodded. He pulled out a folded paper and handed it over. “This is the sketch the king gave me.”
Evan studied it. “The jewel in the center—?”
“It appears to be a ruby. And there’s this.” Destin reached under the table and retrieved a black leather case. Setting it between them, he opened it, revealing a curved Carthian blade like the ones carried by Celestine’s horselords. “It was left to Jenna, supposedly by her mother. She killed one of the King’s Guard in Delphi with this blade.”
When Evan reached for it, Destin gripped his wrist, hard. Evan looked up, startled, all but undone by the pressure of Destin’s fingers against his pulse point. For a long moment, they stared at each other.
“Careful you don’t cut yourself,” Destin said. “It’s magicked. Jenna stabbed herself with it and nearly died.” One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Then he let go.
But it was too late. Destin had shown his hand. It had been a huge risk to contact Evan, to hold this meeting, to commit treason against the king he served. It proved that, despite his claims to the contrary, the connection between them remained. Destin hadn’t moved on, either.
Evan swallowed hard, undone by the gratitude that welled up inside him. He wrenched his mind back to the conversation. “Jenna nearly died—but she is alive?”
Destin nodded. “She’s recovering. The king has sent word to the empress, but I took steps to make sure it would take a long time to get there. Still, at best we have a few weeks before Celestine comes to collect. Maybe less.”
Evan was ambushed by a mixture of hope and dread. A few weeks. They had a few weeks. He had to find a way to . . . “You’ve questioned this . . . Jenna?”
Destin nodded. “I used persuasion on her, but it doesn’t seem to work. As you’ll recall, it doesn’t work on you, either. Still, I’ve interrogated a lot of people, and I think she was telling the truth when she said she had no idea what the magemark means.”
Hope diminished, just a bit. “What are her gifts?”
Destin frowned, as if trying to remember every detail. “As I said, she’s resistant to magery. She claims to be clairvoyant—that she sometimes sees images of the future, sees people as they really are, or can tell when someone is lying. She claims that her senses are sharper than most—vision, hearing, sense of smell. She heals quickly, and is resistant to flame. In fact, she develops a kind of armor for protection.”
Evan shook his head, bewildered. He couldn’t put those details together into any kind of theory that made sense. But, maybe, together they could—
Destin rolled his glass between his hands. “If worse comes to worst, I could kill her before the empress arrives, but—”
“No!” Evan all but shouted.
The door banged open, and Brody, Jorani, and Teza crowded into the doorway. “My lord?” Teza said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine,” Evan said. “I’m sorry. We were just having a . . . political discussion.”
Jorani gave Destin the evil eye, and then they withdrew.
“Back to Jenna,” Evan said. “I don’t want to kill her! I want to save her if I can. I have to talk to her. I’ve never met anyone else like me. I just—”
Destin raised both hands. “Calm down, Pirate. I guessed that you would. So. I do have another plan. It’s a terrible, foolhardy, hastily made plan that will probably get us both killed. It involves the weapon I asked you to bring with you.” He paused. “You did bring a weapon, didn’t you?”
Evan nodded. “I brought a sun dragon.”
Destin stared at him. “A sun dragon?”
Evan nodded. “It’s still rather small, but it’s growing fast. We need to act before it outgrows the hold.”
“You weren’t worried that it would set fire to your ship?”
“It came with a flashcraft collar that blocks magic,” Evan said. He paused, then continued, eagerly, “Would you like to see it?”
Destin laughed, his first deep, genuine laugh of the day. And suddenly, they were back in Tarvos, two boys laying plans and building their ship of dreams.
“Gods, Pirate, I have missed you,” Destin said, shaking his head. “Let’s go see this dragon and I’ll go over the plan.”