I wave Riden over. He joins us, and I start laughing and walking in the direction of the new footsteps.
Athella and Riden catch on quickly, relaxing their stances. Athella lets out a giggle, and Riden smiles openly. Sorinda falls into line with us, wearing an uncomfortable grimace, but she quickly masks her face with her usual apathy. Sorinda hasn’t much practice with playacting. She prefers not being seen altogether, but that is impossible at the moment.
“But the fool was so angry that he challenged me to a duel,” I say as though continuing a story.
A few men round the corner, and we continue walking toward them as though we’re heading farther into the keep.
“What happened next, Captain?” Athella asks.
“I had no choice but to accept. I embarrassed the poor man in front of his friends.”
The footsteps belong to Adderan and a couple of his men. He must have come by to make more apologies to my father, and to give him more assurances of his loyalty.
They give us inappropriate, lingering glances, likely thinking us to be whores requested by the king. That is, until Adderan bothers to look at my face. He grimaces as he recognizes me, then hurries the others along.
I almost wish he’d provoke me. I’d love an excuse to kill him.
We continue walking long after the men pass us. Then, just to be extra cautious, I say loudly, “Hold on, I’ve forgotten something on the ship.”
We turn back down the tunnel until we reach the door once more. Everyone resumes their posts.
“They’ve moved on,” Riden says from his end.
Athella has her tools back out in an instant. This time she’s quicker with her hands.
Several minutes pass as she pokes at the lock. Two more times we have to pause at the sound of echoing footsteps, but they’re only traveling through some other adjoining tunnel. We don’t come into contact with anyone else.
And finally, a low click emits from the lock.
“Got you,” Athella announces quietly. She places her tools back in their assigned spots before standing. “It’s ready for you, Captain.”
A chill sweeps down my spine at the pronouncement. I’m really about to do this. I’m trusting a rival pirate lord over my father.
“Athella, take Riden’s place and keep watch.”
Her lips round in a slight pout.
“You’ll see what’s inside soon enough. Riden, you’re with me.”
With Athella and Sorinda keeping watch on either end of the tunnel, I grab one of the torches from the wall and slip into the room with Riden right behind me.
*
The study looks as though it was carved right out of the rock. The edges break sharply as if a pickax worked at them. The decor is opulent, much like my own tastes. A massive desk is neatly set with quills and parchment. All the drawers are locked. The chair in front of it is padded with feathers, probably goose. Another chair rests against one of the walls, equally soft with black fabric on the seat. A cabinet on the far side holds rums and wines and two glasses. A chaise and bookcase have their own wall. A tapestry depicting sirens and pirates engaged in battle hangs opposite the desk, next to the lone chair.
After placing the torch in a sconce on the wall, I kneel in front of the desk and get to work at the locks on the drawers. The locks are child’s play compared to the one on the door. I don’t need Athella for them.
“What can I do?” Riden asks as I prod with the tools in my hands.
“For starters, you could be quiet.” Harsh, I know. But I’m too on edge right now to be nice.
The top drawer slides open, and I put away my picks.
There are only two items in here: a piece of parchment and a metal rod.
I pull out the rod first. It’s hollow, no longer than a foot, and ancient-looking symbols have been pounded into the metal. The supposed siren-controlling device? It doesn’t hum or pulse or glow or do anything else mystical. In fact—
I examine a section near one of the openings more closely. I recognize the workmanship. Hakin, one of the keep’s smithies made this. It’s faint, but there’s his signature on the end. He’s hidden it within one of the ancient symbols. Anyone unfamiliar with his work would miss it entirely.
Why would Father have this made? There isn’t a glass for spying or anything inside of the rod—nothing at all to make it useful. Though you could probably clobber someone with it if you were so inclined.
I pull the parchment out next. I read over my father’s handwriting quickly, little phrases jumping out at me.
… control sirens …
… wield with care …
… immunity to enchanting song …
Riden reads over my shoulder, but I don’t mind. More and more things are becoming clear.
I set the paper down, pick up the device.
And I laugh. “This is all fake. He didn’t find it suspicious that my father placed an advanced lock on the main door yet such a flimsy one on the drawers? My father likely planted this for a spy so they would be given false information. And this”—I raise the rod—“it’s just a piece of metal. Vordan and his spy are idiots.”
My shoulders sag, all the tension leaving me at last. I was a fool for listening to Vordan. For letting him get to me. Of course Father would have something in place for spies wandering through here. Maybe I will venture to those dungeons one last time before we leave so the world can be rid of Vordan forever.
I risked our lives for nothing.
I return the items to the drawer and lock it. I’m about to lead Riden out of here, when my eyes glance over the cabinet of rum once more.
There are two glasses. Two chairs in the room. And Father is the only one ever seen leaving or entering.
I’m at the tapestry in an instant, pulling it aside and feeling the wall for a switch of some sort.
And I find one.
The wall swings outward, and my breath stops at the sight in front of me. Riden joins me at the opening.
A woman sits on another chaise, staring at a painting of the sea at sunset hung on the wall. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her hair is a deep red, twisting around her shoulders as if it were tendrils of flame. Her skin is so fair, as if it has never seen the sun. Her lashes are long and as red as her hair. Her form hides behind a simple dress. And while she looks frail and somewhat sunken, I know she was once strong and beautiful.
She doesn’t turn as I step into the room, though I know she hears me. Her eyes close briefly, as though she’s irritated by the disturbance.
I feel tears prick at the sides of my eyes, but I don’t let them out. Not yet.
I try to speak, but it turns into a cough when the words stick.
She looks at me then, and those green eyes show such surprise, they confirm my suspicions that no one has ever seen her in this room aside from my father.
I try again. “What’s your name?” This time the words are clear, but they seem too loud somehow.
“Ava-lee,” she says in a voice as beautiful as the rest of her. She brings a hand up to cover her gaping mouth, then lowers it, fingers trembling. “Are you Alosa?”
This time the tears come. I can’t stop them, nor do I have a desire to do so.