“To sacrifice your heart for your kingdom is noble, son. It is everything. It’s what it means to be king.”
I stare at the blade; the inscription gleams in the moonlight. Its words simplify my mission, creating space for my pain. A soldier. A great king. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.
Duty over self.
Or?sha over Zélie.
I wrap my hand around the hilt of the majacite sword, ignoring the way it blisters my skin.
“Father, I know how we can get the scroll back.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
ZéLIE
WHEN I SETTLE into the captain’s quarters below deck, I expect sleep to come easily. My eyes scream for it, my body cries even louder. Nestled between the cotton sheets and velvet panthenaire furs, I don’t know if I’ve ever slept in a softer bed. I close my eyes and wait to be pulled into blackness, but the moment unconsciousness takes hold, I’m thrown back into chains—
“I wouldn’t be doing my job as king if I didn’t remind you what you are.”
“I wouldn’t be doing my job as king unless—”
“Agh!”
My sheets are soaked in sweat, so drenched the captain’s bed might as well be in the sea. Though I’m awake, it feels like the metal walls keep closing in around me.
In an instant, I’m on my feet, running out the door. When I make it to the outside deck, the cool air hits me with a welcome gust of wind. The moon hangs so low in the sky its roundness kisses the sea. Its pale light illuminates me as I inhale the ocean air.
Breathe, I coach myself. Gods, I long for the days when the only thing I had to worry about when I closed my eyes was the dreamscape. Though the nightmare is more than past, I can still feel the knife cutting through my back.
“Enjoying the view?”
I whip around to find Ro?n leaning against the helm, teeth gleaming even in the dark. “The moon didn’t want to rise tonight, but I convinced her you were worth the trip.”
“Does everything have to be a joke with you?” My words are harsher than I intend, but Ro?n’s grin only widens.
“Not everything.” He shrugs. “But life’s a lot more fun that way.”
He shifts his stance, and the moonlight hits the splatters of blood on his fatigues and bandaged knuckles.
“All in a good day’s work.” Ro?n wriggles his bloodstained fingers. “Had to get those soldiers talking about your magical island somehow.”
Nausea rises to my throat at the sight of the blood on his hand. I gulp to keep it down. Ignore him. I turn back to the sea, grasping on to the calm it brings.
I don’t want to picture the mess he made of those men. I’ve seen enough blood. I’ll stay here, within the crashing waves, where it’s soft and safe. Here, I can think of swimming. Of Baba. Of freedom—
“The scars.” Ro?n’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Are they new?”
I glare at him like he’s an Or?shan honeybee begging to be smashed. “They’re none of your damn business.”
“If you’re looking for some advice, they could be.” Ro?n pulls back his sleeve, and all the venom I want to spit evaporates. Crooked tallies mar his wrist, traveling up his arm, disappearing underneath his shirt.
“Twenty-three,” he answers my unasked question. “And yes, I remember each mark. They killed one of my crew members in front of me each time they carved a new one.”
He runs his finger down one crooked line in particular, face hardening with the memory. Watching him, my own scars prickle. “The king’s guards?”
“Nope. These kind and gracious men were from my home. A land across the sea.”
I stare at the horizon, imagining a different ship route, a place away from the ritual, from magic, from Saran. A land where the Raid never happened at all.
“What’s it called?”
“Sutōrī.” Ro?n’s gaze grows distant. “You’d like it there.”
“If it’s full of tally marks and scoundrels like you, I can assure you that’s one kingdom I’ll never see.”
Ro?n smiles again. A nice smile. Warmer than I expect. But knowing what I know so far, this smile could appear when he tells a joke or slits another man’s throat.
“Level with me.” He steps closer, looking me straight in the eye. “In my humble experience, the nightmares and scars take time to heal. Right now your wounds are a bit too fresh for my comfort.”
“What’re you trying to say?”
Ro?n puts a hand on my shoulder; it’s so close to the scars I flinch out of instinct.
“If you can’t do this, I need to know. Don’t—” He stops me before I interject. “This isn’t about you. I couldn’t speak for weeks after I got my scars. I certainly couldn’t fight.”
It’s like he’s in my head, like he knows my magic’s run dry. I can’t do this, I scream inside. If an army’s waiting, we’re sailing to our deaths.
But the words stay in my mouth, burrowing back down. I have to trust the gods. I need to believe that if they took me this far, they won’t turn their backs on me now.
“Well?” Ro?n presses.
“The people who gave me my scars are the ones on those ships.”
“I’m not putting my men in danger so you can get revenge.”
“I could skin Saran alive and I still wouldn’t have my revenge.” I shrug off his hand. “It’s not about him. It’s not even about me. If I don’t stop him tomorrow, he’ll destroy my people like he destroyed me.”
For the first time since the torture, I feel a hint of the old fire that used to roar louder than my fear. But its flame is weak now; as soon as it flickers, it’s blown out by the wind.
“Fine. But if we go in there tomorrow, you better stay strong. My men are the best, but we’re going against a fleet. I can’t afford for you to freeze up.”
“Why do you even care?”
Ro?n’s hand flies to his heart, feigning a wound. “I’m a professional, love. I don’t like to disappoint my clients, especially when I’ve been chosen by the gods.”
“They’re not your gods.” I shake my head. “They didn’t choose you.”
“Are you sure?” Ro?n’s smile turns dangerous as he leans against the railing. “There are over fifty mercenary clans in Jimeta, love. Fifty caverns you and your staff could’ve stumbled into. Just because the gods didn’t blast through the ceiling of my cave doesn’t mean they didn’t choose me.”
I search Ro?n’s eyes for mischief, but I find none. “That’s all you need to face an army? A belief in divine intervention?”
“It’s not a belief, love, it’s insurance. I can’t read the gods, and in my line of work it’s best not to mess with things I can’t read.” He turns to the sky and shouts, “But I prefer to be paid in gold!”
I burst out laughing, and it feels foreign—I never thought I would laugh again.
“I wouldn’t wait on that gold.”
“I don’t know about that.” Ro?n reaches out and cups my chin. “They did send a mysterious little maji into my cavern. I’m sure more treasure will follow.”