FionaRobinsong

  Chapter 1:

  “Have you been drinking tea beneath the new moon?” The Grand Admiral stared at her elder cousin as she spoke. The prince shrugged, clearly unbothered by the accusation in her tone. “You want me to take a bloody Samander aboard my ship?”

  “No.” He smiled at her, the same stupid, arrogant smile he’d had since they were toddlers in arms together. “I want you to take four.”

  “And why would I take that risk, cousin?” She took a step forward, too close for etiquette’s sake. But her cousin was not moved by her theatrics, and neither were his guards. Neither shield man even twitched. She wondered if she was losing her touch.

  “Because, my sweet-tempered cousin, they are as royal as you. Our scouts saved them from a demon ship.”

  “Are they hunted?”

  “Likely.” He fiddled with his silver cuff links, his royal bearing put aside for the moment. “If we can get them home, cousin, we can ask them to be allies against the demon folk . We need allies.” He stood, his hard, clean boots clicking loudly on the floor. His boots had never been outside the pace. “Ael, please. I’d trust no other with this. You have the fastest ship, the most loyal crew.” He pced a hand on her jacket, rubbing her arm affectionately. She tried not to prickle at the overly familiar gesture. Her cousin was one of the few who had earned it. “I won’t order you to take this job, but I ask. Please?” She stared at his face, boyish despite his forty years. He gave her a pout that was better suited to a child’s face before his easy demeanour returned.

  “Two “pleases” in one minute? Very well, Silverspoon.” She gave an exaggerated sigh, and her very best “grumpy” expression. He was smirking at the old childhood nickname.“I suppose it wouldn’t do to give you another grey hair.” He grinned back at her, clearly relieved.

  “Thank you Ael.”

  The Prince and his cousin moved to a small table, each taking a chair. The Grand Admiral waited for him to sit, following the protocol out of habit. The chair was ornate and beautifully carved, but clearly designed for looks and not comfort. It took self control for her to remain in the chair, instead of pacing, as they discussed details. They spent some time going over the arrival pn. No one could know who she moved, so they would arrive cloaked in blue. The blue had been the Grand Admiral’s pn. She fancied putting watery colours on fiery Samanders.

  “I will have the apothecary mix up some of their special fire fighting foam,” he continued. “It will be delivered to the Dragon’s Tooth within the hour.” He waved his hand, and two servants approached with tea and biscuits. The Grand Admiral took her cup, dumped four cubes of sugar in it, and then waited for the prying ears to skedaddle. The servant girls bowed so low their braids touched the marble floor. They scurried away like mice. She waited for the echoes of their footfalls to die before she continued talking.

  “You said there were four?” She took a sip of the hot beverage. “Are they finger wigglers?” She motioned with her left hand, wiggling her fingers as she had seen their court casters use magic. “Do I need to worry they will burn my ship in the night?” Her cousin took a sip of his own tea, looking into the cup. His grip tightened.

  “The man certainly is,” the prince expined softly. “I have never seen such striking red hair. The woman… I don’t believe so. Her hair was bck and pin.” He bit down on a biscuit, taking slow, purposeful bites. “Oh these are glorious. You are missing out.”

  “Cousin!” She put her cup down harder than was necessary. The teaspoons rattled impressively. “What aren’t you telling me? That’s only two.”

  “The boys I’m not sure…. Their mother kept their heads covered. It is their custom, I’m told, that children wear coverings on their heads.”

  “Boys?” Ael echoed. “Children?” The Admiral considered her crew’s reaction to a pair of literal children with fire magic in the cabin. She began rearranging the crews in her mind from one ship to another. Loyalty went far but some of her people had limits. Very reasonable limits.

  “No older than Callum. They are pying as we speak.” Ael stared in horror. Three more people switched ships in the duty rosters in her mind. She needed more time to process.

  “Callum’s six!”

  “My son is eight now, thank you. You missed two of his birthdays out at sea. These boys have impeccable manners and are well taught. As I would expect from any D’Igna heir.”

  “Heirs?” She hissed. Heirs had expectations. She moved another two from her fgship to another. There were some folks you just did not let near nobility.

  “I did tell you they were as royal as you, cousin. The adults are a count and a countess, though given her bck hair I’m inclined to believe the countess is married in.” He shrugged, wiping crumbs from his silk trousers before he stood. “His recited pedigree was enough I did not ask hers. She is the mother of the boys, but he did not y cim to them as sons. Of course, he was also affectionate with them in my presence, so he may simply be subtle.”

  “Dare I ask?” She stabbed a knife into the biscuit, watching it crumble a moment before she sthered butter on it. No reason to pass up good food, even if she was put out by her cousin’s insane requests.

  “His grandfather is King Melchor, he is the first born of the second born. Closer to the crown than you, cousin.”

  “Bah, he’s welcome to whatever crown he likes in his own nds.” She took a bite. The butter had vender in it. Odd choice, something floral, but strangely delicious. “I’ll get his royal samander-self home,” she continued as she chewed. Her cousin wrinkled his nose but did not comment on her ck of manners. “I’ll leave with high tide. Make sure they are there and ready.”

  “Thank you, Ael.” He slouched a little, breathing easier as if he had carried a great weight on his chest that she had lifted. “I’ll send word to the quartermaster that you be fully stocked on my purse, not yours.”

  “By your leave, then? I have a crew to wrangle.” She stood, bowing her head slightly. It wouldn’t do to buck all manners and traditions. His lips quivered in a smirk that he quickly schooled.

  “Safe travels, cousin.” A fsh of regret passed across his face, subtle and gone in a moment, but his voice sounded deeper when he spoke again. “I hope to see you when you come back.” He meant if she came back, that much was obvious. She gnced back at the only cousin who had ever made time for her. She gave him her best grin.

  “I’ll be back in a year. You’ll owe me a chat, some tea and a fine cake after that long of a trip.” He smiled back, the smile tentative but true.

  The Grand Admiral stomped out past the guards, ensuring she left some dirt from her boots behind. If her poor cousin couldn’t get outside the keep walls, she would just bring him some outside. It wouldn’t do to let his head get too big. She heard a horrified, stifled sniffle from one of the endless dies-in-waiting. She ignored the posh, pampered woman. What did she know of the outside world anyway?

  The market beyond the pace walls was busier than usual. The cacophony of the market pce was almost shrill. Children shrieked in glee, one streaking by her, covered head to toe in mud as others gave chase. She gave them a fierce gre and they gave her a wide berth. Vendors called out, selling fish, protection amulets, love potions, ale and fortune-telling. She gave the Star-Readers a wide berth. No reason to draw their attention to her. The Admiral had no desire to have her fate told to her, even if the odds were they were only chartans.

  She passed by a baker’s stall, but his product’s fresh smell only overpowered the scent of unwashed bodies, dead fish and salty air for a moment. Still, the Grand Admiral purchased his stock of cheese buns. It would be nearly a year before she was in this port again. She would want the treat for her nerves. She would have to send the quartermaster for extra tea for her “guests”. She could not have the Samanders thinking she was uncivilized. Tea did not spoil or rot, and was one of the few luxuries she could keep without guilt. Loose, dried leaves in small boxes never bothered anyone. Perhaps she’d get a vender tea, given how delicious the bun had been.

  After a day surrounded by people, most of whom gave her a wide berth and whispered fearfully about the scars on her face and neck, returning home was a welcome relief. Boarding her ship, the Grand Admiral was finally able to breathe, to be herself. The red-stained oak rocked gently, as if breathing along with Ael. She strode to the main mast, pced her hand on the great beam of wood.

  “We have a task, old girl.” The ship did not answer, but as Ael whispered her insecurities to the wood, she felt a weight lift. She told her ship of their task, of her worries about baby Samanders and nobles with sticks up their rears. The Dragon’s Tooth would see them through the long voyage. She was steadfast, perfect. Ael had only to be as strong as her ship, and all would be well.

  It took three hours to have the crews track down those on shore leave, and another hour to rearrange the few people she suspected would be uneasy or worse with children aboard. Her vessel was meant for war, for speed, not for comfort and transport of civilians. Still, she ordered the first mate to clear his cabin, offering to let him bunk with her.

  “Are you sure, Grand Admiral? I can bunk with the crew.”

  “Evander, you questioning your Captain?” She perked an eyebrow up, a slight smirk pying across her lips. He rexed at the teasing tone.

  “No sir,” he replied quickly. He ughed a little. “Them royals got you all tied up in knots!”

  “Not just them,” she grouched. “Prepare your cabin for guests. Drag cots in, it needs to house four.” He nodded swiftly and took off.

  Half an hour before high tide was truly upon them, four figures cloaked in pale blue approached the ship. The tallest one was a barrel-chested man who walked with as much authority as any prince. The cloak’s hood was pinned to his head with a silver circlet. Folks in the market scattered out of his way. The woman and her two small children trailed behind him at least four paces, all three with their heads bowed and hustling to keep pace with the longer legs of the man. Ael felt her blood burn. How dare he treat a woman as if she were inferior! Dragon’s saggy egg sacs, she hated him already.

  No one questioned the man as he came aboard the ship. Whispers erupted as the short, plump woman and her two small children began their ascent. The Grand Admiral whistled sharply and the whispers on the ship died instantly. Once their guests were aboard, the Admiral whistled again, this one a trill they all knew. “All hands, prepare to leave port.” The burst of activity was immediate.

  She took a breath, steeling herself to go deal with the nobles, when a high, innocent voice began to speak.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong with her face?” It was the younger, smaller boy who spoke. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot. Ael snorted out her nose, readying herself for the flurry of “we don’t point” or “we don’t ask such rude questions.”

  She found herself surprised.

  “Nothing is wrong with her face, little love. That’s a scar, and it means someone tried very hard to kill our host. It means she lived; that she is courageous and full of hope. It is a mark of ferocity and beauty.” Ael paused, feeling a sudden lump in her throat. No one had even called the scar across her face “beautiful”. She banished the fluttering feeling of gratitude. It was a pleasant story told to keep her child’s fear in check. She didn’t mean it. She wrapped herself in her mental armour, pushed Ael down to be the Grand Admiral. No weakness before the Samanders.

  The Grand Admiral stepped before her guests as the ship began its voyage. The children clung to their mother in fear, burying little faces into her blue cloak. The man swayed slightly on his feet, suddenly unsure now that the ground was rocking. But the woman moved as if she were a sailor herself. She carefully unwound little fingers from her cloak, whispering softly to them. The children moved to the man with very little encouragement, and he pced his rge hands on their heads protectively. The boys leaned into the rger man, seeking shelter and bance as the deck tilted. Father and sons, the Grand Admiral assumed, watching the scene. The man had a polished obsidian bracelet on his left wrist. A marriage band, if his people had the same custom as hers. Though obsidian seemed an odd choice for a celebratory piece. The Grand Admiral gnced at the woman’s wrist and saw a simir band, almost as thick as his. Matching jewellery supported that they were wedding bands. It would expin everything, if this was his wife.

  The woman approached her, pulling her hood back as they sailed away from the port. The woman’s face was rounded and soft, free of scars. She had crows’ feet by her eyes, but only when she smiled. She was curvy, her body clearly showing signs of her privileged life and of her having borne two children. The countess had to be in her te thirties. She did not hesitate, but moved with a surprising gracefulness. Her hair was done in complex braids, and was nearly to her mid back. Ael counted six thick braids and a number of smaller ones woven about her head almost like a crown; she was high-ranked indeed if her cousin had allowed her to wear such a hairstyle.

  “My family and I thank you, Grand Admiral,” she said, bowing her head a little. “We will do our best to not be underfoot.”

  “For the most part, it would likely be best if your small ones kept to the cabin.” She did not mean to sound harsh, and took a moment to moderate her tone. “I don’t wish to see them hurt. A ship’s deck can be a dangerous pce.” Nobility often needed to be coddled. Everything was going as she had expected, until the Grand Admiral made the mistake of looking into the countess’s eyes. They were blue and grey like the sea before a storm. Eyes that could drown a woman. She had to force herself to pay attention to the woman’s words.

  “Agreed, though for their constitution, could we bring them out on the deck to move and py at least once a day?”

  “Will the sea-breeze bother them?” The words were out of her mouth before the Admiral could think. She watched the stormy eyes fre and felt a sudden sense of danger creep along her back.

  “Prejudice.” The countess clutched her fist as if she were about to throw a punch at the Admiral. That seemed unlikely, noblewomen were creatures of poisoned words, not of fisticuffs. “Even the Fire-born can endure rain.” The woman’s tone was clipped, angry. Her arms were crossed now, though the Admiral could not remember seeing her move.

  “My humblest apologies, Countess….?” She left the title hanging, hoping for a name. The woman smiled sharply, her expression wholly unwelcoming, almost feral.

  “I am Dame Countess Nereida Dama D’Igna, first of my name.” The countess shifted her posture, standing with squared shoulders, looking every inch as regal as her name indicated she was. Her expression was fierce, bordering on murderous, all traces of softness burning away. The Admiral stared, realizing betedly that this was not a cowed woman. The movement through the marketpce and onto her ship had been an act. She watched, mouth agape, as the countess strode across the deck as if it were hers. The man and the children followed her awkwardly as she headed into the cabin and smmed the door. The Admiral whistled softly in admiration; she had never heard the door be quite that loud before.

  Across the deck, Evander met her eyes with a significant look that the Admiral could not interpret. She promptly ignored him, whistling out the next command before calling to the helmsman the bearing for their journey. She could not keep the grimace from her face. This voyage was going to be long .