I woke up to my cheek pressed on a wooden surface and covers on top of me. Had I fallen off the bed? My stomach twisted with hunger pangs. I hadn’t eaten in two days, choosing to stay in the bed and nurse my pain and despair with tears and mental rants. I’d even hated getting to use the toilet.
The pity-fest was over. I was determined to get through this ordeal until Storm came for me. If he did. No, I couldn’t afford to think like that. He was alive. He would come for me.
It was so dark I couldn’t see a thing, and for once Captain Asshat and Lord High and Mighty were not arguing. Every time they came inside the cabin, they yapped nonstop about politics and some underground movement in Hy’Brasil. Lord Conyngham insisted the thugs running it just needed a good flogging. Captain Ren disagreed.
He argued for rights to shift and to marry whomever they pleased, the right to be treated with common decency, everything that Storm exemplified, yet he’d been ready to hand him over to the mad king. Asshole. Obviously, he was your typical ambitious military man who’d do anything to further his career.
I listened for the sounds of water slapping the hull. There were none. The sea felt calmer after two days of giant waves caused by the gods collecting their dead. I reached out to push the curtains aside, and my fingers touched something smooth and firm. I followed it. It was a wall of some kind.
I felt around whatever I was lying on. I noted the wood. And the size. I slept on a wooden lounge. The ones in Lord Conyngham’s cabin had leather cushions. Maybe the stench from my body had finally gotten the better of him and he’d dumped me below deck.
I’d never met a more entitled, pompous man in my life. He’d begged me to eat, and it had felt good to throw the offer back in his face. I could still see his shocked expression at my choice of words.
I grinned. That I could find anything remotely funny said sanity was slowly returning. Voices reached me from somewhere to my right.
“What are you doing in my house in the dead of the night?” a woman asked.
“I brought you someone who needs cleaning.”
I recognized Captain Ren’s voice.
“I didn’t want to take her to a public bathhouse. When you’re done, give her a place to sleep. I’ll return for her in the morning.”
“This has got to stop, Ren. Is she one of your Tuh’ren strays?”
“She is a Tuh’ren, but not from here. She’s from Port Vaarda. The one the king’s men missed.”
“You found her?” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper, and I had to strain to hear her. “You can’t leave her in my home, Ren. I don’t want to deal with anyone that involves the king and the oracle.”
“No one said you would. I can’t present her to them smelling like she does. See if you can use the special powder on her hair, and get her something decent to wear for later.”
“Did you hear anything I said? I cannot have her in my home. Let the palace clean her up.”
“The staff gossips, Morgana. It was a toss-up between you and that insufferable Lord Conyngham.”
“Dathan?”
“How many Lord Conynghams do you know? I lost a ship he could have towed in.”
“What happened?”
“He found us stranded at sea and brought us home, including my crew. For two days, I had to listen to him prattle on about how people like us were a nuisance for wanting change. I might disagree with the way the underground movement runs things, but they have valid reasons for wanting a more moderate Hy’Brasil. One second in his insufferable company and I would have punched his pompous nose.”
“He’s not that bad, Ren. He just gets bored easily.”
“Boredom comes from being idle. If he and other nobles stopped partying and hunting game for sport, and took an interest in the welfare of the people, the kingdom would be at a much better place.”
“Please, don’t start. You know I can’t stomach politics.”
“Of course, you can’t. You attend their parties.”
“Ren!”
Silence followed.
“I apologize.” Captain Ren sounded contrite. “I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on you. I’m heading to the compound to report to my superiors. If the generals know I found the lass and why she’s at your house, the oracle won’t question her presence here.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you start with that? And so you know, I’m going to start charging you for these favors. The lack of sleep from the ungodly hours you make me keep. The clothes you never replace. The food. I could go on forever.”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Remember, we don’t want anyone to know she’s here.”
Their voices faded away, but I was left baffled. The man who’d kidnapped me and wanted to see Storm hanged collected stray Tuh’rens? Where did he take them?
Footsteps approached, and I angled my head to listen. There were two sets, one heavier than the other. The light they carried flickered in the air, making it possible to see where I was.
Behind me was a marble wall with a built-in bench, and arched along it was a changing screen. As the footsteps drew closer, I lay down, tucked the covers under my chin, and pretended to be asleep. People tended to talk when they thought you couldn’t hear them.
“Ren rescued her from the rogue islanders,” the same woman who’d spoken earlier said.
What had he called her? Morgana.
“I hope they didn’t plow her belly and leave her with child.”
Plow my what? Did that mean rape? Didn’t they know anything about Storm’s people?
“They are so barbaric,” a new voice said.
She sounded young.
“What’s that smell?” she asked.
“It comes from her, the poor lass,” Morgana said.
“I guess it’s true what they say about the islanders,” the girl said. They were closer now. “They don’t have privies. We’ll need a lot more than this to make that smell go away, Lady Morgana.”
“Then get more and check on the heating water.” Footsteps moved away. Then someone entered the opening of the screen and approached me. “Poor child. First the filthy scourge of the seven seas, now the mad one.”
Filthy…? I bit my inner cheek to stop myself from yelling at her. She knelt, lifted the cover, and tsked.
“Pirate clothes. They couldn’t even give you something decent to wear,” Lady Morgana mumbled. “Probably kept you naked the entire time for their depraved pleasures. I don’t know what’s in store for you, lass, but it can’t be worse than what you’ve been through.” She tucked the blanket around me and moved away.
What I’d been through? I’d been welcomed with open arms, pampered, and treated like a princess in Vaarda. Everyone, from the captains to the tavern wenches, had been nice because I was Storm’s lass.
I didn’t realize the other girl was back until I heard water running. Thankfully, it drowned their voices as they continued to talk about Storm and his people. Tears of anger rushed to my eyes. I wasn’t sure how long I could listen to lies about Vaarda before I lost it.
It was a while before Lady Morgana returned and shook my shoulder. I ignored her.
“Come on, lass. You don’t want to sleep in your filth.”
She shook harder until I opened my eyes.
“Oh, she’lahn. Don’t cry. You’re safe now.”
What was wrong with me? Crying because this stupid woman and her maid, or whoever the girl was, said terrible things about the people I loved wasn’t going to change anything. I had to get my shit together. I was sure the entire population on this island had been brainwashed against Storm’s people.
“Come on.” Lady Morgana got up. “Remove the clothes, and let’s get that filth off you.”
She stepped back and watched me struggle to stand up without lifting a hand. Not that I blamed her. I reeked, and she looked like she didn’t lift a finger much in her pampered life. Something about Lady Morgana’s white, silk and lace nightgown and velvet, hooded cloak reminded me of Sienna’s mother. My hands tightened on the covers as I got to my feet.
“Can you talk?” Lady Morgana peered at me. “Do you understand me?”
I wish I didn’t. Part of me wanted to fake muteness and deafness so she and her friend out there could speak freely around me, but I refused to sink that low. That didn’t mean I wanted to talk to her either. If I did, I’d tell her off for making stupid assumptions about Vaarda.
I nodded.
“You poor thing. You must be in shock after what you’ve been through. Do you need help getting undressed?”
“No,” I protested and took a step back.
“Uh, she speaks,” she said, smiling. “I knew that would get you. Tuh’rens are never comfortable with nudity. The ones Ren brings to me to clean up are always just as skittish. Come on. Undress. Riva is bringing in hot water.”
“Can I have some privacy, please?”
After she left, I removed the shirt I’d borrowed from Captain Ren and covered myself with the blanket. Then I stepped from behind the screen.
We were inside a bathhouse, not a washroom like I’d thought. Made of marble, instead of just cement, it had built-in benches along the walls, one medium-sized rinse pool, and several marble bathtubs lined up between the screens instead of smaller scrub pools. The girl filling one of the tubs looked up and smiled shyly when our eyes met.
She looked about my age. Like the lady, she wore a nightgown and a cloak, but hers appeared made of cheaper cotton. She turned off the water and left the room.
I sniffed and frowned. A weird smell wafted in the air, and it wasn’t coming from me. Lady Morgana directed me to sit on the nearest bench, scooped something from a bucket, and dumped it on my head.
“What the hell, lady?” I jumped up and brushed the powder off my hair. It was responsible for the smell. “What did you put on my hair? It stinks.”
“You stink worse.” She nudged the bucket toward me and offered me the scooper. “Take it. The powder will kill the germs crawling in your hair and take away the stench.”
“I don’t have germs in my hair. If your boyfriend hadn’t dragged me through a sewer…”
Why was I explaining myself to her? I couldn’t get rid of the stupid powder, and some was getting on my face. I glared at the woman.
“It smells like toilet cleaner,” I griped.
She grinned. “We do use it to clean privies, too.”
“Ew.”
“And right now you smell like one.”
“I don’t care.”
She chuckled. “You should. You cannot go to the palace smelling like excrement. We’ll wash your hair, give you a nice warm bath, and have you try on one of my dresses. We are about the same size.”
I had dropped the cover and hadn’t realized it. I grabbed it and wrapped it around me. She chuckled, then cocked her head, her expression growing serious.
“I need to crawl in bed before my husband wakes up and finds me gone again because of my stubborn brother, so try not to be difficult.”
“Captain Ren is your brother?”
“The oldest. The most stubborn of the lads. So what is it going to be, lass? You smell like roses or a privy? I have scented soap and oils you could use afterward.”
The girl, Riva, returned with a bucket of hot water and poured it in the tub. She studied me curiously until she caught me staring back at her. She scurried away.
While she brought in more hot water, I reluctantly spread the nasty powder into my hair. Lady Morgana sent Riva for liquid soap from upstairs. When she returned and added it to the water, the scent of wild roses wafted into the air.
My throat closed as I remembered the fresh rose petals in my tub back at home. On Vaarda. I clenched a fist and dug my nails into my palm until I calmed down. Riva finished filling the tub, bubbles frothing on the surface. I stepped into it and slid low, a sigh escaping me.
“No dunking your hair in the water yet,” Lady Morgana warned. “Riva will wash out the powder, so hang your hair over the edge of the tub,” Lady Morgana instructed.
“I can wash my own hair.”
“No, you can’t,” Lady Morgana said firmly. “Riva needs to coat your hair with the powder and wet it until it is caked. It must stay there for a while before it is rinsed and rewashed with a scented soap. You can worry about washing it on your own tomorrow. Today, you are our guest. Riva, when you are done with her, take her to your room. We’ll decide on what she should wear after sunrise.”
Riva frowned. “But…”
“Only this once, lass. She’s not like the others.” Lady Morgana left the bathhouse, leaving me with Riva. She didn’t look happy to be giving up her room.
“We can share the bed,” I offered.
“No, that’s okay.”
She finished with my hair and left to get a robe and slippers while I scrubbed the stench off my body. I didn’t take a dip in the rinse pool until she returned.
The water was cold and smelled of the ocean. I was shivering, my teeth chattering by the time I wrapped the fur-lined robe around me. I followed Riva up the stairs, then down a hallway into a bedroom. The room was small with a narrow bed. There were no couches or wall hangings, only a chest by the bed and a single chair.
I missed Delia’s place and the Great Hall so much it hurt. My breath hitched, but I contained the anguish. Two days had passed since I last saw Storm, and I knew deep inside me he’d made it. He had to. The gods could not have dared to take him when his people needed him. I needed him. He was meant to love me, as I now knew I was meant to love him. Once he recovered, nothing was going to stop him from coming for me. It didn’t matter how long it took.
Instead of focusing on my pain, I studied Riva. She was removing a pillow from the bed.
“We could share the bed,” I said when I saw her eye her bed longingly. Once again, she refused.
“I’ll be down the hall.”
“Where does Captain Ren take his strays?”
“He takes runaway Tuh’rens back to their husbands and rebels following the rogue prince back home to their families, if they are young. If they are older, he hands them to the military. He says they need discipline and the Royal Academy can do that.”
Bastard. I hated him even more now.
I crawled into bed as the door closed behind her. She’d taken the candelabra with her, leaving me in the dark. I stared at the ceiling and plotted.
Rogue prince? Did Riva mean Storm? Did he have followers here? If I could find them, they might help me get back to Vaarda.
~*~
Shouts woke me up the next day. The sun was up, the light creeping behind the heavy curtains at the window. I barely sat up when the doors flew open and a tall man marched in.
I gawked. I was used to the islanders’ casual clothes, and to see a man in a gold embroidered vest and frock coat with matching breaches, white stockings, and dress shoes with big buckles seemed out of place. On his neck was an elaborate white necktie. He looked like he’d stepped out of an eighteenth century magazine for the aristocrats.
“You!” he barked. “Up!”
I sat up, my eyes flying to Lady Morgana as she entered the room behind the man.
“Be nice, he’lahn,” Lady Morgana said. “She’ll be gone after breakfast.”
“She leaves right now, Morgana, before the oracle finds out and accuses us of harboring her. No more hiding runaways in our home. I won’t put up with it. If the king ever finds out, it will be our necks in the gallows.”
He marched out, leaving me with Lady Morgana. She still wore her silk chemise and robe from last night. She threw me an apologetic smile.
“Don’t mind my mate. He often turns a blind eye to my brother’s strays, but you are not like the other Tuh’rens. I’ll send Riva with some clothes and breakfast.”
She hurried after her husband while I was left to wonder about the oracle and why everyone feared her.
Riva entered the room, carrying a chemise, a gold and green coatdress, an embroidered underskirt, and underwear. The narrow sleeves of the dress reached the elbows, and a flaring lace was attached to it. It was fancier than most of my outfits at home, but I hated it because I had to wear a corset. I missed the simple chemises and kirtles. Dangling from Riva’s fingers were gold, silk shoes with dainty heels.
This time, I didn’t care that the bloomers probably belonged to her or Lady Morgana or someone inside their house. They were clean, and I needed a pair. Riva helped me dress because of the damn corset.
“How do you breathe in this?” I asked as she tightened it.
“I don’t. I don’t like stays. I could loosen it if it’s too tight,” she offered. “I know Tuh’rens don’t use stays under their clothes.”
“We do at comic cons and Halloween.”
She gave me a confused look.
“Don’t you have a different outfit I could borrow? Like yours?”
She wore the standard islanders outfit—a chemise and a kirtle on top. Unlike the highlanders, she wore an apron and her hair was tucked in a bonnet.
She smiled. “I only have simple dresses, which are not suitable for the palace.”
I resigned myself to not breathing. While she went to get my breakfast, I put on the shoes. They were a little snug. Riva returned with bread and a cup of steaming drink.
“Who is the oracle?” I asked, and she paled.
“The one who counsels the king,” she whispered. “We don’t say her name because she hears everything. Everyone just calls her the oracle.” She placed the drink and bread on top of the chest.
“Is she a witch?” I asked, and she gasped.
“Never say that. She is gifted. She protects the palace.”
The bread was hard and tasteless, nothing like Grainne’s, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t eaten in two days and was starving. The drink was too sweet and tasted like green tea. I broke a piece of bread and dunked it in the drink. It tasted better.
Riva hovered.
“Did you meet Prince Orath?” she asked.
I stared at Riva. “Prince Orath?”
“The rogue prince. He escaped the gallows here in Hy’Brasil before I was born. A few deluded people still consider him a hero. Is it true he now lives like an animal?”
She was talking about Storm. My Storm. My palm itched to smack her. I had to remind myself she was a product of this accursed island, or I swear…
“No, I didn’t meet this Prince Orath, so I don’t know how he lives.”
I ignored her and wolfed down the food while formulating an escape plan. I had to know the island to make it. It was time to explore. I drained my cup.
“May I have more bread?”
She glanced at the empty plate, surprise crossing her face. She nodded and left. I waited a few seconds then followed her. She disappeared around a bend in the left hallway. I took off in the opposite direction.
I passed two doors without meeting anyone before I found the entrance. Any second, I expected Riva or Lady Morgana to call out my name. I glanced back once, saw no one, and reached for the door handle.
“Going somewhere, she’lahn?” Captain Ren asked from behind me.
Damn.
He was in the shadow of a short hallway I hadn’t seen. From the way he leaned against the wall, calmly munching on a piece of bread, he’d been waiting for me to make my move. Like Lady Morgana’s husband, he wore a fancy vest and frock coat. Instead of shoes with shiny buckles, he had on boots.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said. “I need to stretch my legs. Clear my head.”
“You can stretch your legs at the palace. Uh, here’s Riva with more bread.”
He took the loaf from her and shoved it in my hand. It was still warm.
“Could you get her a cloak, too, please?” he asked, and Riva left again.
Ignoring the captain, I bit a healthy chunk of the bread, pushed open the door, and stepped outside. A gilded closed carriage drawn by four black horses waited in front of the house. Were those real horses or Kelpies?
The sheer amount of gilded reliefs and figurines on the wheels, the door, and the roof was staggering. The door had a crest with two Kelpies, each wearing a crown and carrying a gold leaf. In the middle of the crest was a Selkie with golden whiskers. He, too, wore a golden crown. But at the very top of the three of them was a winged, crowned Kelpie.
The coachman holding the reins tilted his hat at me while a footman, who’d been standing by the carriage’s open door, hurried to the foot of the stairs and looked at me with an expectant expression. I would have appreciated the glam if I hadn’t been kidnapped and brought here against my will.
Ignoring the footman, I finished the bread and glanced up and down the street. If I took off now, would they chase me? Would the neighbors help capture me?
The few people working on their flower gardens didn’t even look up, except for a tall man with shaggy hair under a tricorn hat and a bushy moustache. He stared at us curiously, but when Captain Ren joined me and put a cloak around my shoulders, the man bent down to pick up something from the ground.
Cold fingers crawled up my spine, and I shivered. I tugged the cloak closer and put up the hoodie. It was chilly, the sun hidden by clouds.
“Let’s not keep the palace waiting,” Captain Ren said from behind me in a hard voice.
I bit my tongue when I wanted to say something scathing. Instead, I walked down the steps and took the hand the footman offered. He helped me into the carriage and stepped aside for the captain to follow. Sweeping the tails of his fancy coat out of the way, he sat and hit the roof with a fist.
The carriage rocked as it started to move. Instead of having a staring contest with the man I presently hated the most in the world, I pushed the curtains covering the window and looked outside while munching on the bread.
We passed the man with the weird moustache and shaggy hair who’d been watching me. He stared after the carriage, then hurried down the street. Something about him gave me the willies.
Losing interest in him, I studied the houses and the people we passed. Most of the houses on the street were two stories high, but the few women working outside were dressed like Riva, and the men wore knee breeches, boots, simple vests, and coats.
The road widened and split as we headed up the hill. Horse-drawn carriages with gaudy reliefs and distinct crests on their doors slowed down to let us pass, the occupants’ faces pressed on the glass window as they gawked at me.
I was so tempted to give them the finger, but it took too much effort. So, I ignored them. We passed parks with fountains and flower gardens. It would have impressed me if I were a tourist. Now, everything bugged me. The people. Their flashy carriages. The perfectly trimmed trees that lined the cobbled streets. As we continued up the road, I could see some of the surrounding mountains and forests.
While Vaarda appeared built inside a crater of a dormant volcanic mountain, Port Hy’Brasil covered the slopes of one. Since we were headed uphill, I assume the docks were in the opposite direction. That should make it easy to find it later after I escaped.
We veered to the right, and the palace came into view. A sprawling three-story building with arched windows, towers like the Great Hall. Statues of Kelpies, Selkies, Dragons, and Mermaids lined the roof. A stone wall surrounded the palace, and a humongous gate with the same gilded crest as the one on the carriage was the only entrance as far as I could see.
The guards saw the carriage and opened the gates.
A huge statue of a winged Kelpie on his hind legs dominated the middle of the courtyard. It stood on a cubed platform with bas-reliefs of battles and surrounded by a pool of water. Water shot up from the edges of the pool and bathed the feet of the Kelpie.
Obviously, winged Kelpies meant something to this society. No wonder the mad king had chopped off Storm’s wings. Bet he didn’t have any. Bet his bratty favorite grandson didn’t either.
We weren’t the only ones arriving, and stares followed us out of the carriage and through the doors into the waiting hall. I’d gawked online often enough at palaces turned into museums that to find myself in a real one was surreal.
The front hall, long and wide with large windows with fancy, gold frames and patterned carpet, dominated the front of the building. But the vibrant colored murals on the walls and the arched, high ceiling combined with a line of gilded chandeliers and wall sconces were a bit overwhelming. Two sets of grand staircases curved from the first floor to the second one. Under the two staircases was another doorway leading away from the main hall.
The people were a throwback to another era, just like the Vaarda islanders had seemed when I’d first arrived there. The men wore flashy embroidered coats with large overturned sleeves and long vests. Quite a few carried walking sticks. Though they stood in groups, their women were seated, their floral dresses with lace and ribbons on the sleeve making them look like debutants at a ball.
A few women looked regal in flowing gowns with long V-shaped open sleeves with intricate gold designs on the upper and lower parts. The collar and the hems had the same designs, and an underskirt was visible through the slits on the front. Some wore belts on their hips while others didn’t.
Jo would have had a field day here. She’d often poured over fashion magazines, studying trends. I was sure she’d know which century the Hy’Brasilians favored.
Eyes followed us past the second staircase, until I wondered if Tuh’ren was written on my forehead. Or maybe it was my hair. Unlike the women’s curls and decorations, I wore my hair down and unadorned.
“What’s their problem?” I asked.
“They’ve never seen anyone who’s left the rogue prince’s island,” the captain explained.
“Left? Don’t downplay your role, Captain. You might wrangle a medal out of the mad king for this.”
His jaws clenched. “Don’t refer to him as ‘the mad king.’”
“Do you think they’ll still talk about me once I escape this pile of rocks?”
“Behave,” he snarled and took my arm, fingers digging into my flesh through the sleeves. He led me to a door manned by two guards. The room was packed, but I could see the upper parts of a chair on a dais.
One of the guards left his post and went to stand in the middle of the doorway. He raised his staff and brought it down hard on the floor. Silence swept the room.
“Captain Ren Bayney and Miss Lexi Greenhorn,” the guard announced.
The people in the room turned to face us and, at the same time, moved apart so there was a clear path from the door to the throne. My stomach hollowed out, and my heart started to pound. The seated man looked exactly like Storm.