“Excuse me?” She frowned.
“When you look in the glass, do you see beauty? No, Niya and Lark, I do not care for either of your opinions on the matter.” He raised a hand to stop them from interrupting. “I’m asking Ara. Do you find yourself beautiful?”
“What a foolish question.”
“That you seem scared to answer.”
“I am hardly scared.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “Only if I answer one way, I will seem self-loathing, which I am not. And if I answer the other, I will appear vain, which, again, I am not.”
“You aren’t vain?” Niya raised her brows.
“No, I am not.” Arabessa cut her a glance. “But I am growing tired of this line of questioning. I do not see the point in it.”
“The point,” said Zimri, “is that I see beauty. When I look at you.”
Niya watched as Arabessa blinked over to him, a tense silence filling the room as they regarded one another.
Niya found Larkyra’s twinkling gaze, suppressing a grin as her sister wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
“So?” Arabessa eventually asked, the annoyance in her voice faltering.
“So,” Zimri continued, “if you do, too, then our definition of what pleases the eye is not so very different. Which would mean you do find my smile to be beautiful, because I find my smile quite beautiful too.”
Niya bit back a laugh as she watched her older sister struggle in her response. But whatever the red-faced Arabessa was poised to say—or do—next was interrupted by the entrance of their father.
All stood.
Well, except Niya. She ran straight toward the man.
Despite him being in the midst of shrugging out of the ornate alabaster uniform of the Thief King, still permeated with the ancient magic he forced into his role when on the throne, Niya could not stand on decorum in this moment. He was unmasked, his blue eyes shining bright beneath their rim of black soot.
“Father.” She threw her arms around him, savoring his mixed scent of sun-soaked hay and smoke. His braided beard tickled her cheek as she rested her head on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
Dolion did not respond right away; he merely held her tighter. “I know, my flame. Now come”—he pried her loose—“let us sit and hear of what has transpired.”
Niya felt as though she was finally able to breathe. Now in the privacy of her father’s contained quarters, her family all around, she unloaded everything: her visit to Barter Bay, the journey through the Mocking Mist, the storms that protected the far-west lands, and the beauty of the Valley of Giants. Finally she shared the purpose of the Crying Queen’s travels, the item Alōs searched for: the Prism Stone. Why he had taken it in the first place: to save his younger brother’s life. She shared all this in the hopes that they could help in some way. A lesson learned from when she had failed to ask for their help in the past.
“My, that is a tale,” breathed Larkyra once Niya had finished. “I hadn’t realized Alōs had a brother. Who knew I could actually feel pity for the pirate?”
“Are we sure all of this is true?” asked Arabessa, brows pinched in with suspicion.
“I had my own doubts at first,” admitted Niya, “but all the pieces seem to fit. Alōs most certainly was born to be the king of Esrom. And I overheard their holy order speak of the stone and the magic leaving the kingdom. As far as King Ariōn, I have seen the markings of his illness for myself and watched him with Alōs. There is no denying the affection between the two. Alōs still very much feels duty bound to help Esrom.”
“Still,” began Arabessa, “I—”
“What Niya says is true.”
All eyes turned to Dolion. He sat closest to the fire in his high-backed leather chair, the white disguise of the Thief King now hanging at his side, leaving him in a plain tunic and trousers, though he still filled the space like a commanding force.
“You knew?” Niya blinked, a wave of shock going through her.
“The Thief King knows the history of all who become part of his court,” Zimri answered for her father.
“You knew too?” She swiveled around to meet his brown gaze.
“Who do you think gathers the information?”
“But why—?” she spluttered.
“Why didn’t we tell you?” said Dolion. “Because, my child, the identities and pasts of our court members are for the king to hoard, not those who serve him.”
“Yet Zimri knows.” Arabessa’s glare was a prick of ice.
“And I have been bound by a Secret Sealer to only discuss the specifics with the Thief King,” Zimri countered.
Dolion affirmed this with a nod. “But who Alōs Ezra once was had no standing in our lives. As far as I was concerned, any interaction with the man was with him as he is now, the pirate captain of the Crying Queen. I hadn’t realized there were any intimate . . . connections until his ransom with you, Niya.”
Niya felt her cheeks redden, the familiar shame for giving away their identities resurfacing.
“Now, regarding this issue with the Prism Stone,” Dolion continued. “This is a new development to me. While I was aware of the stories of Alōs taking it, I hadn’t realized how truly important this stone was, nor that the pirate lord would care enough about the kingdom which banished him to want to get it back.” Her father met her gaze. “But it appears he cares a great deal.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It’s all he cares for, really.”
“Which is why you must continue to be careful with him,” said her father. “Despite Alōs’s selflessness in the past, we all know the man he has grown to be. He has acquired the title of notorious pirate lord for a reason. And as the sands fall, he will only grow more desperate to find the stone. And desperate men are dangerous.”
Niya swallowed. Her father’s words landed like blows, even though they were the same convictions she had reminded herself of earlier tonight. Earlier, before she had slept with Alōs, again. Before she had watched him submit to her, worship her; before she’d lain in his arms and listened to his breaths as he fell asleep.
Tonight he had been different; she had felt different with him. Powerful. In control.
Could she believe in these new feelings?
Niya’s thoughts were momentarily distracted by a reflection on her father’s shirt. There was pinned the compass brooch of her mother’s.
She said when she touched it, it helped ground her. It allowed her to find her way.
Niya swallowed. I must find my way, she thought as she stared at the weaving gold that made up four different points. Four different directions to take, but in the center rested a shining sun. Her focus.
You must continue to be careful with him. Her father’s words echoed in her mind. Desperate men are dangerous.
With a heaviness to her chest, Niya knew her father was right; she could not yet trust Alōs.
Not until all of this was said and done. How Alōs acted after he got what he wanted would be the real test. Whether his words to her tonight would remain sound. It saddened her to realize this, but it did not stop her from knowing she must keep him at arm’s length until then. Keep her walls high.
“Yes, Father.” Niya tore her gaze from the compass to meet his gaze. “I understand.”
Dolion’s expression softened, as though he knew where her attention had just been—on the pin that sat above his heart. “Yes, by now I’m sure you do. Yet . . .”
“What?”
“Tell me, how is it the mark of your binding bet is already half-filled when your time on the Crying Queen is not nearly half up?”
Niya looked down, realizing she had taken off her long black gloves and had been twisting them in her lap. The mark on her wrist sat exposed. “I have struck a new agreement with the pirate lord.”
“Here we go again,” groaned Arabessa.
“I have a new bargain to obtain my freedom quicker.” Niya shot her sister a scathing glare.
“And what is this new bargain?” asked Zimri, leaning forward.
“As soon as I help find the final piece of the Prism Stone and it is returned safely to Esrom, I can return home.”
“But that could take longer than your year sentence,” Larkyra pointed out.