Trevn

Trevn had managed to spend two full days on Bakurah Island before Wilek remembered his pledge to Master Bussie and sent him back to the Seffynaw. But whether Trevn had been climbing limber trees, examining coral reefs, drawing maps of the island, or loading cargo onto the ship, his mind was consumed by the life he had taken. He kept seeing it over and over in his mind, the moment his sword had entered his attacker.

He had killed a man.

He hadn’t told Mielle yet—had barely seen her. Rosârah Brelenah kept her as busy as Captain Livina kept the sailors. Everyone had work to do if they were to sail into the Northsea in search of land. After leaving Everton, once they’d forgiven themselves for living while so many had died, they’d felt hopeful with the destination of Bakurah Island in mind. But now that had fallen through, and while a small portion of people had stayed behind to start the colony, the majority could not. That left those on board keenly aware that they must sail on, even to their deaths—which many felt was exactly what would happen.

Word finally came that they would leave the next morning at dawn, intensifying their final hours into a frenzy of last-minute demands. Butchered pigs and birds were to be taken to Hara; sacks of feathers, pelts of pig fur, and bushels of cut grass for weaving were delivered to Rosârah Brelenah; and freshly carved water jugs full of drinking water were hauled down to Master Bylar, the steward, to be stowed in the hold.

Trevn was on dawn watch. The captains Livina, Alpress, and Veralla met to determine that all who were leaving with the ship were accounted for. Then Captain Livina called the watch to raise anchor, and Trevn manned one arm of the capstan, pushing with the other sailors to lift that which kept them within reach of hope. Once the anchors were up, Bussie ordered Rzasa and Trevn to climb the foremast and stand ready to unfurl the sails.

“May Thalassa give us a safe voyage,” Captain Livina said, “and may Mikreh lead us through the Northsea to a land more bountiful than this.”

Or bigger, anyway.

“Ease the rope on the foresail,” Bussie called up to Rzasa and Trevn, who set to work.

Moving from forecastle to quarterdeck was much easier now for the sailors. While Trevn had been on the island, Captain Livina had employed the men in building a suspended platform of rope harpings over the heads of the passengers clogging up the main deck. The sailors could now scurry about unhindered, loosening or fastening lines and sheets, hoisting sails, and tightening the rigging.

They would go slowly this first day back at sea, as it would take time for all the ships to assume the order of the fleet. Once the Seffynaw was northbound and had found favorable winds, Bussie called Trevn and Rzasa to join Cadoc on the quarterdeck to patch holes in a spare mainsail. Trevn had never used a needle and thread before, but his fingers had always been adept with small details, and though his stitches were fat and crooked, he fared much better than Cadoc, who had yet to even thread his needle.

“Captain Veralla used to help us mend our things when we were traveling,” Cadoc said. “He said we were all used to women doing our work and that none of us knew which end of the needle was which.”

“What woman did your mending?” Trevn asked.

“My mother.” Cadoc glanced over the port rail to the vice flagship. “She and my father are aboard the Rafayah.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Trevn said, realizing that he knew nothing of Cadoc’s family and not liking how self-absorbed that made him feel. “I should like to meet them when we land.”

“They would like that,” Cadoc said. “Mother especially was relieved to have me working as a shield. She thinks I’m safer in this position.”

Trevn dropped his section of the sail into his lap. “After Beal tried to kill us in my mother’s apartment?”

“I have no intention of ever telling her about that event,” Cadoc said.

“Ottee said you killed a man on the island,” Rzasa said to Trevn.

“What?” Cadoc roared, staring at Trevn as if scolding a child.

Trevn ignored his shield’s reaction and met Rzasa’s dark eyes, wondering who had told Ottee. “Some rebels attacked Wilek and I got drawn into the fray. It was him or me. I saw that quickly enough.” He probably would have died, standing there stupidly, if it had not been for Inolah’s quick action. His sister, great with child, had killed three men. A woman worth knowing better, he decided.

“I don’t like how killing makes me feel,” Rzasa said.

“You’ve killed before?” Cadoc asked, incredulous.

“Twice,” Rzasa said. “I served aboard a merchant ship my first three years. We were attacked by pirates a half dozen times. In those situations it’s kill or be killed.”

“I keep dreaming about it,” Trevn said. “Reliving the moment, I mean.”

“That’s normal,” Cadoc said.

It was? “How long until it stops?”

His shield shrugged. “Impossible to know. Every man is different.”

The bells rang for the watch change. Trevn wouldn’t be meeting Mielle until after the midday watch, so he, Cadoc, and Ottee joined Rzasa and the sailors for breakfast.

Breakfast for the average sailor turned out to be a rock-hard roll, a slice of whitefish, and mush. Rzasa poured tea over his roll to soften it. Trevn did the same but found it all quite bland, especially since there was no salt or spices to be had for sailors.

Nietz entered the galley, copper mug in hand. “Eating with us now, are you, Boots?”

“Sir Cadoc and I thought we’d give your fare a try,” Trevn said.

Nietz chuckled. “So we’ll never be seeing you in here again, is that right?”

Trevn lifted his mug in mock toast. “I drink to your foresight, Master Nietz.” And he choked down a glob of lukewarm mush.

Nietz sat with them. “Heard you got into a scrape on the island.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Trevn said.

“Rarely is. I know Sir Cadoc has trained you to fight with a sword, but if you ever want to learn how to stop a man with your bare hands, I’d be willing to show you.”

The offer surprised Trevn. “I would like to learn.”

“Next watch,” Nietz said. “You and I will have some fun.”

After breakfast Trevn went to bed, hoping to catch a few hours’ sleep before the midday watch. But as he lay in his hanging cot, he kept seeing his sword stab that man, hearing the soldier’s gasp, smelling the blood, seeing it on the ground, his blade, his hands.

He hadn’t strung the dead man’s braid in his hair like a soldier. Instead he’d hidden it in the bottom drawer of his desk. He saw no reason to brag about having killed anyone. And that was the only reason he could see to wear the braid. He didn’t understand why so many soldiers did it. To look threatening, perhaps? In that regard Trevn supposed it worked.

He wanted to find Mielle, to tell her about it, so she could comfort him. But as he couldn’t see her until after the midday watch, he would have to suffer until then.

Mielle’s consolation over Trevn’s ordeal on the island was everything he had hoped it would be. They’d met in the cabin she shared with her sister and nurse, both of whom were on deck as Miss Darlow chaperoned Miss Amala’s outing with the sârahs and their guards. This left no one to chaperone Trevn and Mielle but Cadoc, who took his usual place out in the hall. An ineffective chaperone, which suited Trevn just fine.

Mielle sat on the bed, leaning against the wall. Trevn lay on his back with his head in her lap, looking up into her face as he told his tale. She exclaimed over the danger he’d encountered, praised his bravery in standing by Wilek and the king, and lauded his skill in protecting himself and his pregnant sister—which wasn’t at all how it had happened, but Trevn did not correct her assumption. Mielle cherished his remorse at having killed but reminded him that villains brought such consequences upon themselves. All these things were said while petting his hair or face, holding his hand, or rubbing his shoulders. None of these ministrations changed what he had done or washed the memory from his mind, but her words and actions mollified his conscience in a way that no other person had been able to.

“You are too good to me,” Trevn told her when finally she fell silent. “Is there something I can do for you?”

She grinned down on him. “My friendship requires no compensation.”

“There must be something? We could talk of Miss Amala or Lady Zeroah?” Mielle had lately sworn not to talk of either, claiming she would only annoy herself.

“Actually . . .” She touched her throat. “I would like my shard necklace. I had packed it in Zeroah’s trunk before she cast me out.”

Well, that wasn’t right. “If she has something of yours, she should return it to you.”

“I doubt she knows she has it,” Mielle said.

Trevn sat up. “Then let’s ask her.”

“Oh, no, Trevn. I don’t want to speak with her.”

He pushed himself off the bed and reached back for her hands. “You don’t have to. I will.” He pulled her up until she was standing in front of him. “Let me try, please?”

“Thank you, Trevn.” And she kissed him.

Trevn, Mielle, and Cadoc found the door to Lady Zeroah’s cabin locked. No one answered when they knocked, so Trevn decided to find another way in. “Wait here with Miss Mielle, Sir Cadoc.”

“What are you going to do?” Cadoc asked.

Trevn grinned. “You’ll see.”

“Why is this so important, Your Highness?” Cadoc asked.

“Because we must find Miss Mielle’s . . .” But Trevn could not remember what she had lost. “What was it, Mielle?”

She shook her head. “I don’t recall. It must not be very important.”

But it was. He just knew it. Why couldn’t he remember? “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Hurry,” Mielle called after him. “I don’t like being here when I can’t remember why.”

Trevn ran up to the stern deck, found a length of rope, and tied it on the rail above where he thought Lady Zeroah’s cabin to be. It was then that he remembered they had been looking for Mielle’s shard necklace. How strange that they’d forgotten before.

Trevn swung his legs over the rail and lowered himself quickly, winking at two boys who were staring. Hand over hand he let himself down past the port windows of his father’s cabin. Another level down brought him to the square window of Lady Zeroah’s cabin. He pushed the curtains aside and kicked his legs through the opening. He waved up at the boys, who were now watching him from over the stern rail, then slid into the cabin.

The room smelled dank and slightly of decay. He pushed open the curtains to give himself enough light to see his way to the door and wondered how Lady Zeroah had locked it from the inside when she was not here. He unlatched it, opened it, and Mielle, whose back was to him as she faced Cadoc, yelped and spun around.

“You madperson!” She swatted his arm. “How did you get in there?”

He pulled her inside and shut the door in Cadoc’s face. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I still don’t remember why we’re here.”

“To find your shard necklace,” Trevn said.

“Oh, that’s right!” Mielle tugged at his sleeve. “But she will catch us. Then she will hate me even more.”

“She is horrible for hating you in the least.” He scrutinized the cabin and found two trunks under the desk. He set upon them like a treasure hunter but found nothing but dresses upon dresses. Mielle searched a small box on top of the sideboard that contained jewelry.

“It’s not here,” Mielle said. “Perhaps she discarded it.”

“Knowing what it meant to you?”

Mielle shrugged and sat down on the bed. “I refuse to believe I was so deceived by her. She is not an evil person. I must have done something to wrong her, but I can’t think what.”

Trevn opened a cupboard on the sideboard and caught sight of a bronze canister embossed with a prickly leaf design. He reached for it but stopped when Mielle called to him.

“There is a trunk under here. Can you help me?”

Trevn joined Mielle at the bed built against the bulkhead. He got down on his knees and pulled out an ornate wooden trunk, which took far more effort than expected. “This is heavy.”

Mielle crouched beside him and reached for the latch. “And locked.”

Trevn grinned. “I can pick locks.”

“Who would teach a sâr such a thing?”

“I taught myself.” He reached into her hair and pulled out a hairpin. “This should work.”

A curl fell loose, dangling down past her chin. Trevn resisted the urge to tug it and started working on the lock. With Mielle watching so eagerly, it took much longer to open than he would have liked. When finally the latch sprung, he sat back and let Mielle do the honors.

She lifted the lid and screamed.

“What?” Trevn lunged forward to see inside.

Lady Zeroah’s gaunt face looked up at him, eyes frantic, lips cracked and bleeding. An awful smell wafted from her emaciated body, which had been forced into a fetal position, her feet curled in on one another.

“Oh, Zeroah! What has happened?” Mielle lifted the lady’s limp hand in both of hers.

Trevn stared at Lady Zeroah, thoughts clicking into place. He recalled Wilek’s story of what had happened to Hrettah. “Wilek said the mantic who kidnapped him had once looked like Lady Lebetta. What if the same woman took Lady Zeroah’s likeness?”

“Yes.” Mielle stared at him, face lit with a certainty that brought both relief and fear. “That would explain everything. Oh, Zeroah! You didn’t abandon me after all!”

“We must trap the impostor before she realizes we know,” Trevn said.

“First we must free Zeroah from this trunk. Help her, Trevn. Then call Master Uhley.”

Trevn stood, grabbed Lady Zeroah under the arms, and lifted. She did not come easily, but once he managed to budge her, she rose with effort. Her knees remained tight against her chest, her feet tucked beneath her. Trevn carried her to the bed and laid her there. She rolled to her side, still curled into a ball.

They stood over her, staring, when suddenly she whispered, “Have they wed?”

Mielle sat on the bed and took hold of Lady Zeroah’s hand. “What, dearest?”

“Sâr Wilek,” she croaked. “Married?”

“No! Oh, Zeroah, he isn’t. The wedding was postponed. She has not taken your place.”

“Arman be praised.” Zeroah began to cry.

Mielle stroked her hand and tried to calm her.

Horrified, Trevn turned away. It all made sense now. Wilek’s story about the mantic who had abducted him. She must have followed him and captured Lady Zeroah, still trying to achieve her goal of conceiving a Deliverer for Magonia.

Trevn went out into the crossway where Cadoc was still waiting. “Find Lady Zeroah and see that she is detained. Do not frighten her. Tell her Wilek wants to speak with her about the wedding and to wait for him in the captain’s dining room. Post a half dozen guards outside and order them to keep her there on threat of their lives. She is a mantic and might be dangerous. Then find Wilek and bring him here. Tell him that Lady Zeroah has suffered a grievous mishap.”

“I don’t understand,” Cadoc said. “Lady Zeroah has suffered an accident here, yet I am to find her elsewhere?”

Trevn didn’t want to risk sending the full truth to Wilek by message. He would explain everything once his brother arrived. “Do not ask questions,” Trevn said. “Simply do your part. All will be explained in time. Now go!”