I dart my eyes to the men on either side of him. “Take him through a side entrance. I don’t want to see him again.”
“I’m heading out,” I tell Niridia. “See to it that everyone cleans up and gets well rested. I want the Ava-lee stocked up for sailing again. I doubt it will be long before we’re back on the sea. The king will want to move the fleet to the Isla de Canta as soon as possible.”
I leap off the side of my ship. Most would prefer to use the gangplank, but the distance doesn’t bother me. It takes just a second to reaccustom myself with solid, unmoving ground after weeks at sea.
Several ships float along the separate docks in this particular cave. It’s the closest one to the keep’s main entrance, so only those in my father’s inner circle are permitted to anchor here. Among them are Hell’s Breath, which belongs to Captain Timoth; Black Rage, which belongs to Captain Rasell; and the Deadman’s Blade, which is captained by Adderan. My face contorts in disgust when I spot Death’s Secret. If Tylon and his ship weren’t so important to my father, I’d whittle holes into the latter when no one was watching—maybe the former, too.
The docks lead to a path down through the cave, which eventually opens up onto the island. From there is a well-trodden trail obscured from the beach by large fir and spruce trees. It’s incredible that their roots are strong enough to breach the island’s hard surface. The keep is a composition of hollowed-out rock with wooden embellishments.
Several islands over is a long-at-rest volcano. The little island the pirate king uses as his keep is a series of tunnels, once carved out of rock by steaming lava, a deadly natural force.
Now it houses the deadliest men alive.
I kick a pebble out of my path as I reach the largest tunnel opening, which serves as the keep’s main entrance. Dead men dangle by ropes from the top of the tunnel, giving it the appearance of a gaping mouth with scraggly teeth. The ropes are tied to large hooks at the end, hooks that have been inserted into the mouths of traitors. They are hung up like captured fish for all to see what happens to those who meet my father’s wrath.
The tunnel forks into multiple paths, which also veer into their own countless directions. The keep is an endless maze to all except those who serve the pirate king.
I’m following a tunnel deeper and deeper into the keep, in search of my father, or at least someone who can tell me his location, when I pause in front of a door.
The door.
He found something on that island where he met your mother. A weapon.
After weeks of distance from Vordan and his lies, I’d begun to relax. But just like that, doubt creeps back in. Unbidden and unwelcome.
The entrance to my father’s chambers is just one door over. There’s another door inside adjoining the secret study to my father’s bedchamber. As one of the select few allowed to visit my father in his private rooms, I see this door regularly.
It’s my study, Alosa. Surely you know what a study looks like? he said after I asked him what it looked like inside when I was little. Out of embarrassment, I never asked again.
My thoughts are my own. I am not being controlled. I can’t listen to Vordan. I won’t.
And yet, I press an ear to the door, listening carefully.
I don’t know what I expected. To hear ticking? Feel the pulse of anti-siren magic?
Sighing, I move down the hall. I raise my fist and rap on the door to my father’s rooms, remembering why I came here in the first place.
No answer.
I’ll have to look for him elsewhere. I turn—
My breath leaves me. I’m being shoved backward, and wood slams against my spine. Brilliant blue eyes glare at me.
“Alosa.”
I strain at the hands that hold me, but Tylon has me boxed in pretty good. The weight of his body has me firmly planted against the door. Every ligament of his is lined up with mine, our faces far too close for comfort.
If I hadn’t been so distracted by my father’s secrets, he never would have gotten the drop on me. I should know better than to let down my guard at the keep.
I let out a sound between a growl and a frustrated sigh. “Let. Me. Go.”
“It seems the only way to have a conversation alone with you is to ambush you in the halls.”
“Most men would take that as a hint and back the hell off.”
He manages to get even closer to me. “Why? Why are you avoiding me? Ever since you returned from the Night Farer, you’ve been distant. You’ve been different.”
I turn my head to the side to get as far away from him as I possibly can. “Different? I can’t think of a time when I didn’t hate you, and I can assure you that hasn’t changed.”
A low sound gurgles up from his throat. “You’ll come around. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Yes, how can I not when you attack me in tunnels?”
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d let me see you on your ship.”
Niridia has explicit orders to dump Tylon into the sea on sight. I’m told he’d been swimming several times before we left to hunt down Vordan.
Using my song on Tylon would be a waste. I finally break an arm free of his hold and use it to push at his chest, sending him staggering backward. I place a solid kick to his stomach.
It lands him on the floor, gasping for breath.
“I know you’re not the brightest pirate,” I say as I lean over his body, “so I’ll say this slowly. You and your advances are unwanted. The next time you touch me, you’ll find an iron ball in your stomach instead of my foot.”
*
Buttered fish and salted pork leave a mouthwatering scent on the air. I promise myself there will be time for a hot meal later.
Many of the men are taking lunch in the mess hall. Tables upon tables are heaped with all the best foods. From sliced fruits to warm breads to freshly caught seafood and well-aged rum. Only the best is served in the pirate king’s keep. We can afford regular shipments of perishable foods. At the rate my father’s going, he could soon buy all of Maneria. Money pours into the keep from all the merchants and land nobles purchasing safety for their ships. Some of the pirates under my father’s control never even need to leave the keep. Nor would they want to; anything a man could want can be found here. A floating brothel anchors in one of the caves. Endless food and rum are supplied for all.
I’m used to the stares, glares, or looks of desire that come my way at the keep. Only the ship captains know what I am. I’m a mystery to most. Why would the pirate king bother with claiming a female as his child? Why does he hold me in such high regard? Why am I given the most dangerous and important missions? Some are jealous; some are curious and baffled. Others wish I weren’t so capable of defending myself.
I scan the room carefully, looking for my father, but he isn’t here. I stop one of the cooks bringing out a tray of rounded breads to add to the tables.
“Has the king been in for his lunch yet, Yalden?”
“No, Captain,” he responds. “I’ve heard he shut himself in the treasury for most of the morning. Must not be out yet.”