Chapter 18

 

“Fire!” Savion bellowed and Perdita lit her arrow, stood, and along with her fellow archers released her bow. Dozens of arrows arched flames across the sky, most hitting their mark as if they could do naught else. Sails went ablaze in seconds. Malum darted across the ship in a frenzied attempt to put out the fire.

“Hard to starboard!” Savion shouted, and the Scepter veered to the right, deck tilting, sails thundering, and water spewing from her larboard quarter.

The roar of carronades followed, pummeling the air. The crew dropped to the deck, clinging to hatch gratings, lines, and masts—anything they could find to keep from tumbling overboard. Perdita braced herself against the stern railing. The whine and zip of cannon shot scorched her ears, followed by the ominous crunch of wood. One of the shots punched through the main deck.

The rest splashed into the sea, impotent.

“Praise be King Abbas!” Savion’s crew cheered as they rose to their feet. “Praise be King Abbas!”

“All sail to the wind!” Savion ordered, and soon, with all canvas billowing in a stiff breeze, the crippled Scepter sliced a path through the turquoise seas. When Perdita’s bandaged feet finally dared to move again, she rose and sought the Malum ship—now naught but a fireball on the horizon.

Amazing. She’d never seen anyone escape such overwhelming odds. Shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun, she found Savion on the quarterdeck, map spread before him, conversing with Petrok and a few of his crew, who held down the edges against the wind.

A thin man emerged from one of the hatches, his ragged clothes dripping on the deck. “Captain, the pumps can’t keep up. We’re takin’ on too much water.”

Savion nodded, yet his expression revealed none of the fear now rising within Perdita.

“Do what you can,” he replied, then folded up the map as Petrok dispatched orders for the crew to adjust sail and course.

Perdita’s aching feet drew her down to Savion’s cabin once again. The pain reminded her of how close she’d come to crying in front of Verrad. Zost on the scamp! How could one of Savion’s crew be acquainted with that fiend Damien? Of all the luck of Neptune! At least Verrad was locked in his cabin for now. In the meantime, they had bigger problems, it would seem. Sinking to the depths for one. Yet, for all their trials, Perdita was beginning to believe there wasn’t anything Savion couldn’t save them from. Forsooth, he seemed to be in the business of saving everyone who crossed his path.

Everyone but her.

Eleven more days. She had but eleven more days to convince him to do just that.

By twilight, the Scepter sailed into the cove of an island Perdita recognized as one she’d almost claimed as her home nearly two hundred years past. Small, uninhabited, with lush jungles, gorgeous shores, and towering cliffs, it had everything she required, all save the safety of an underwater cave. Now as she sat on the stern window ledge and admired the setting sun sprinkling amber and gold over the turquoise bay and waving palms, she remembered why she’d loved it so much.

The ship halted, the anchor splashed home, and Savion marched into the cabin with the authority that was his due. A breeze followed him in, showering her with his scent of sweat and man. His open white shirt revealed a power chest, glistening with sweat. Breeches hugged muscular thighs and disappeared into knee-high boots. He tore off his brace of pistols and laid them on the desk. And against her will, her heart skipped in her chest.

“I told you to stay below.” Though his gaze was pointed, his voice bore no anger.

She swung her legs over the window ledge and frowned. “I’m not some helpless, swooning female that I need to be coddled.”

His brows rose. “I’ll admit you are a good shot with bow and arrow, woman, but if memory serves, wasn’t it just last night I found you bound below helpless and swooning?”

“Bound yes. Helpless, mayhap.” She raised her chin. “But I never swoon.”

He narrowed his eyes as a tiny smile appeared on his lips. “No, I suppose not. And you certainly weren’t helpless today. Where did you learn archery? It’s not a normal skill for a woman.”

“Here and there.” She twirled a strand of hair that had fallen in her lap. “I can hardly lift a sword, and a pistol has but one shot. Hence, the bow and arrow seemed the logical choice.”

“Hmm.” He drew a deep sigh and crossed arms over his chest. “Not much need for that beneath the sea, I suppose.”

Her heart sped up and she looked away. “I beg your pardon?”

He cocked his head and studied her. “Do be honest with me for once, Perdita. Are you a mermaid?”

She sensed teasing in his voice, but still her heart clamped in fear. She faced him with a beguiling smile. “Do you wish me to be?”

Disappointment shadowed his brow as he huffed out a sigh. “Will you never cease your seductions?”

“Of course. When you give in, Captain.”

He grunted, but another smile peeked from the corner of his lips. “I came to inform you we will spend the night on the ship and go ashore in the morning.”

She glanced out the window. “What drew you to this particular island? Have you sensed some desperate need, some impending tragedy only you can divert?” She was toying with him, but he grew serious.

“Much-needed repairs, as you well know.” He followed her gaze out the window, where darkness had blanketed the island. “However, I am sensing a need here.”

At her questioning look, he continued, “It will soon reveal itself. How are your feet?” He glanced at the bandages.

“I’ll live.” Unfortunately.

“And your arm.” He knelt before her, examined the bandage, then studied her face, where she knew bruises from Verrad’s strikes marred her beauty. Anger and pain fired from his eyes, and she lowered her chin, self-conscious of her appearance. He ran a thumb over her swollen lip, his touch warming every inch of her. She closed her eyes and absorbed the memory of his gentleness, the care, the way he made her feel alive … whole … even worthy.

But then he withdrew and stood, and a sudden chill took his place. “I’ll have your supper brought to you soon.” He turned to leave.

Her cry of “Savion” brought him around.
“I—I’ve never seen anyone win against such odds.”

He studied her as if assessing her sincerity before nodding and closing the door behind him.

Infuriating man! One minute he rescued her and swept her off her feet like some gallant knight, the next he behaved as if she had horns and scales.

The night was filled with demons from her past. She dreamt of Ivan five, a strapping middle-aged plantation owner on the island of Lenkist, who had broken off his engagement to another woman to marry Perdita instead. She stood on the cliffs overlooking the sea—a special secluded place they frequented for picnics. And other activities. Wind tossed her hair behind her like shimmering black feathers and molded her already seductive gown to every curve. Beneath her, the indigo sea reached foamy talons to snatch her back into its depths.

She would be there soon enough, for she had only minutes before she became a mermaid again. She lured her lover to the edge and kissed him with a kiss she’d perfected over the years to drive men mad. Then, backing away, she pretended to trip and flung herself into the sea.

He would jump after her. Surely he would. Despite the fact that he couldn’t swim. He loved her! Was betrothed to her. And in the state of passion in which she’d left him, he’d no doubt do anything to rescue her. Of course she wouldn’t allow him to drown, even though he couldn’t know that. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

She struck the water hard, the slap radiating outward like the sting of an urchin. But when she surfaced at a distance, he merely stood on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the frothing sea with a forlorn look on his face.

He had not loved her enough.

Or mayhap he hadn’t loved her at all.

She woke at dawn covered in sweat. A single pearl lay on her pillow. Pocketing it, she rose, attended her morning toilet, then joined the shouts and pounding of feet emanating from above. Within minutes, she was placed in a small boat and deposited on shore, while the crew continued to hoist supplies from the ship in order to begin repairs. Her stomach grumbled as she lowered to sit on a rock and watch the proceedings, keeping her eye on Savion as he directed his men to task. She caught his gaze upon her more than once, and it made her smile to think that, despite his attempts otherwise, he found her intriguing in some way. But was it enough?

 

♥♥♥

 

This was the hardest test Savion’s father had ever sent his way. That’s why he knew if he could only pass, he’d be called home. He didn’t blame his father. Savion had risked his family, the kingdom, and everything his father had worked for when Savion had foolishly chosen to wed Lorelei.

His glance wandered to Perdita as, unfortunately, it was prone to do. She looked so alone, so forlorn sitting on the rock down shore. His father had chosen the subject of the trial well. Perdita was the most fascinating woman Savion had ever met. Was she seductress or saint? Scholar or unschooled? Warrior or weakling? Regardless, she never failed to surprise him with her humorous quips, her fluctuating moods, and her unexpected actions. She had lied to him, tried to seduce him, and put him in dangerous situations.

Yet all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.

He must resist her. He would choose his bride well. Not based on beauty but on character: kindness, charity, honor, and morality. He would make his father proud.

The swish of leaves brought his attention to the edge of the jungle. His men plucked their swords from their scabbards as people of all colors—dozens of them, all ragged and thin—emerged from the greenery. When their wide, hopeless eyes saw the blades, they froze. Others piled up behind them.

Savion gestured for his men to lower their swords.

A man with a bald head and gray beard stepped forward, his shirt nothing but tattered strips of cloth. Ribs poked the skin of his bony chest. “We knew you would come.”

Savion approached him as more and more people squeezed through the jungle like rice through a sieve. “Who are you?”

“We knew you would come,” the man repeated as he gripped Savion’s arm, his weathered face bright with relief. “We prayed to King Abbas to send help.”

Savion glanced over the mob now filtering onto the beach. Dozens upon dozens squeezed from the tangle of green, their hair shaggy and long, their clothing shredded, their faces drawn. Men, women, and children. Savion swallowed down a pang of sorrow.

His men, equally stunned, stared at the sight, still gripping their swords should the newcomers be a threat.

“What happened to you?” Savion asked.

“We’ve been stranded here for months,” the man replied. “We are all that is left of a merchant fleet transporting goods and people from Mirkesh to Zidron. We lost all our ships in a storm.”

A young woman covered in red bites and carrying a baby stepped beside the old man. “We’ve been eating nothing but fruit and bugs. Please, sir, can you spare some food?”

Savion swung to face his crew. “Put away your swords. Petrok, what food stores do we have on board?”

“I don’t know.” The first mate sheaved his sword. “Verrad keeps track of that.”

Hona scanned the needy crowd. “We brought only enough to feed us for our journey.”

“Go get it, then, man. And be quick.”

“Our food?” Nuto looked alarmed. “You’re giving them our food?”

Hona drew Savion aside. “There won’t be enough. Not even for a quarter of them. Then what are we to eat when we set sail? What if another storm rises? We could starve before we make port.”

“He’s right, Captain,” Petrok added. “Send them back into the jungle, and when our ship is repaired, we can sail to the nearest port and send back rescue ships loaded with supplies.”

“We have to try,” a woman’s voice chimed in. Not just any woman. A woman who sent Savion’s blood racing. “We cannot leave them like this.” Perdita slipped beside Savion, her sweet scent drifting past his nose.

He smiled her way then faced his men. “Bring all our sacks, crates, and barrels of food on shore,” he ordered. His crew complied—begrudgingly—and within an hour, the sand was lined with one sack of rice, a sack of grain, a cask of salted beef, two barrels of grog, two crates of corn, oranges, and a sack of hard biscuits.

Savion’s men gathered wood for two fires, and Perdita helped cook the rice and make flatbreads from the grain.

Once all the food was spread on top of a table made from planks stretched across barrels, Savion grabbed a hard biscuit, faced the crowd, raised the bread toward the sky, and said in a loud voice for all to hear, “Thank you, King Abbas, for all that you provide.”

Murmurs of agreement passed through the mob that numbered over two hundred.

Hours later, Savion knew Perdita hadn’t eaten anything all day. Yet there she was, bringing plates of food to the starving people, ensuring everyone received enough to fill their bellies, even the aged and infirmed lingering at the edge of the crowd. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she sashayed amongst them in her stained green skirts and cream-colored bodice, her hair spilling from pins like raven silk. She would be beautiful even in rags. Yet it was the gentleness of her touch, the way she smiled and stopped to talk with those who sat alone, her hurried efforts to deliver the food as quickly as she could, that made her glow.

Did the woman never cease to amaze him?

 

♥♥♥

 

After bringing food to a group of mothers and their children, Perdita returned to the serving table to see if there was anything left. When she’d gathered the last batch, only scraps had remained, and one of Savion’s men was about to scoop those onto a plate. Now, stopping before the table, she froze and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. There was still some rice and dried pork! She quickly grabbed it and delivered it to those who hadn’t received any. When she returned, there was more—just enough to heap onto a single plate. When it happened a third time, Perdita asked Hona—who had just returned for more platefuls—where the extra food was coming from. He simply shrugged, grabbed his portion, and hurried away.

Finally, as the sun made its way toward the horizon, she returned for more food and found the table empty. But it didn’t matter, everyone had been fed. She glanced over the crowd spread across the beach. Children played, women chatted amongst themselves, while men lay on the sand, rubbing their full bellies.

Perdita had no idea what had just happened.

Only Savion seemed unaffected by the strange event as he ordered his men to clean up and then strolled through the crowd, talking with people and making sure all was well.

Perdita retreated to her rock down shore. Her stomach grumbled. She’d forgotten to eat anything, and now the food was gone. No matter. Every appreciative smile she received from each plate she delivered had brought her more joy than the most delicious meal she’d ever consumed. How surprising was that? She shook her head, pondering the revelation. Mayhap she had spent too much of her time during her many ephemeral redemptions serving herself and not others.

An hour later, Savion approached, holding a plateful of food. Her nerves tightened when she saw Verrad following behind him, unshackled and smiling at her with that knowing grin that said he knew she was a mermaid, and he wouldn’t rest until he proved it to everyone else.

“You haven’t eaten.” Savion handed her the plate, along with a pouch of water.

“Thank you. I thought there was none left.” Rising to her feet, she eyed Verrad, who had stopped a few yards away. “Why did you release him?”

“I couldn’t keep him on the ship like it is.” Savion glanced over his shoulder at the Scepter tilted halfway on its port side. “Rest assured, however, he is being punished severely. I’ve demoted him to deckhand, and he’ll scrub decks, clean the head, and do whatever is asked of him. That is, if I decide to keep him on board.” He stared at Verrad, whose eyes remained on the sand. A breeze tossed Savion’s hair in his face. He jerked it aside and planted hands on his waist. “He seems contrite, Perdita, and has asked for the chance to apologize.”

Verrad inched forward. “I was mistaken, Miss Mulier. What I did to you was reprehensible. I was drunk and not myself.”

They both knew that wasn’t true.

“I beg your forgiveness for the injury I caused you.” The words did not reach his seething eyes.

Savion studied her, gauging her reaction. Of course she would not forgive him, especially since he wasn’t sorry at all. But Savion expected her to. He wanted her to.

“I forgive you,” she finally managed to grind out with a sweet smile.

“And,” Savion assured her. “I am keeping him under guard. He will not come near you again.” He nodded with assurance before he leaned toward her, a smile on his lips. “I am pleased at your mercy.”

But, apparently, not pleased enough to keep her company. She stared at the men walking away. Verrad winked at her over his shoulder, sending a chill spiraling to her feet. After gobbling down her supper, she gathered palm fronds for a bed and lay down to count the stars poking through the dark canopy. How glorious, how magnificent the heavens were! She could never count all the stars. There were thousands upon ten thousands of them. Some said King Abbas had created the heavens. Others said they were formed by a random accident. Perdita couldn’t see how anything so beautiful and grandiose and precisely patterned could be an accident. With these thoughts in mind, she drifted off to sleep.

A thousand needles pierced Perdita’s legs. Shrieking, she leapt to her feet and tried to focus in the darkness. The stinging continued. Seawater saturated her skirts, dripped from the hem onto the sand. She rubbed her eyes. A torch waved over her legs and feet, the flames dancing … crackling. A figure lunged for her and lifted one edge of her skirts. She slapped the hand and backed away, wondering if she was dreaming.

But then the figure growled out a curse and slogged away, uttering, “I’ll prove it one way or another.”

Verrad.

She tried to settle her heart. What happened to him being guarded?

A breeze swept over her, plastering her wet skirts to her legs. Shivering, she hugged herself and glanced down the beach toward the main camp, where Savion’s men slept around a dwindling fire. Offshore, the gray of dawn perched on the horizon, revealing the Scepter, tipped as if it were resting its head on the warm waters of the bay. She wished she could do the same. Rest and peace—two precious gifts that oft eluded Perdita.

And apparently Verrad as well. She watched him grab a bottle from the sand, lift it to his lips, and march away. The man would not give up. She’d lived long enough to spot insatiable greed in someone’s eyes. Sooner or later he’d find a way to expose her.

She was wasting her time here, anyway. She had started to believe Savion might care for her—dare she hope—mayhap even love her. But Verrad running loose on the beach proved otherwise. A man in love would do anything to keep his lady safe.

She was wet, cold, and hungry. And worse—alone. Not exactly how she wanted to spend her time on land. Yet staying with Savion was proving to be even more tortuous. This island was as good a place as any to spend her remaining ten days. Then she would simply slip into the sea and be forgotten.

Like all the other times.

She scanned the sleeping forms down shore, her eyes latching upon one in particular. Savion. She could tell because his light hair looked like silver in dawn’s pre-glow. Even in slumber, he lay with the assurance of authority. She crept toward him, being ever so quiet, keeping an eye out for Verrad, who had no doubt gone off to plot a new scheme to destroy her.

Not daring to come too close, Perdita halted two yards from Savion and watched him as he slept—studying the firm line of his stubbled jaw, the rise and fall of the medallion lying on his powerful chest, the expression of peace and control that always rested upon his face.

Tears clouded her vision and she backed away, needing to leave, but not wanting to, not able to. Not yet. Who was this man? This wonderful, incredible man who spent his life helping others, who sensed things no man could sense, who multiplied food and defeated foes, a man who held to a standard of decency and honor she didn’t think possible. ’Twas as if he didn’t belong in this evil world at all. As if he’d come from another place where men didn’t lie and cheat and kill. And abandon. Even now as he lay in slumber, his presence called to every hope within her, luring her into a world she could never enter. A place she could never be.

Because she was cursed.

And cursed she would remain. For she knew now that though this man would risk his life for her, had risked his life for her, to allow him to trade his life for hers would be a travesty of epic proportions. What was she worth, anyway? What was her life compared to such a man?

Though it meant another ten years of agonizing isolation, she could never put him in danger again. Kneeling beside him, she kissed her finger and laid it upon his cheek.

“Good-bye, Savion, I wish you well.” Tears filled her eyes, and she rose and dove into the jungle before she changed her mind.