Memories flooded in. Frances asking Evan to stay on and be a friend to her son. I think you both have lessons to teach each other. Frances saying to Dustin, I’ve lost so much. I don’t want to lose you, too.
“Can I—? I would love to see her again.”
“No,” Destin said, with a bleak finality. “You wouldn’t. Leave well enough alone.” That seemed to be the theme of the entire conversation.
Then why have a meeting at all?
“What about your father?”
“Still living,” Destin said.
“Why?” Evan met Destin’s eyes directly. If you’re such a dangerous, despicable, ruthless person.
“He’s not the king’s enemy,” Destin said. “Not yet.” He shifted his eyes away and methodically refilled his glass. “Why do you think he brought my mother back alive? The general has made it clear that if anything happens to him, Frances and her family will pay a dear price. But he knows it’s a card he can play only once, so right now, it’s a standoff. He’d better get down on his knees every night and pray for their good health.”
“I’ll kill him for you, if you want,” Evan said. “Though, admittedly, it would be easier if you could lure him to the coast. Even better, suggest a father-son fishing trip.”
Destin laughed, low in his throat. “Thank you, Pirate,” he said, “but killing is something I’m actually quite good at. The general is mine. I can wait.” He fingered Breaker’s ears, ruffling up his fur. “Is it my imagination, or has my dog joined the bloodsworn? I couldn’t help noticing that he and your crew share a certain reddish glow.”
“It’s not your imagination,” Evan said, “though I prefer the term ‘Stormborn.’” He explained what had happened at the cottage and after.
“So, how does it work, this blood magic?”
Evan hesitated. He hadn’t shared this with anyone else. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of.
“It is a magic I share with the empress. My blood has the power to raise the recent dead and nearly dead. Once raised, the Stormborn are fearless, exceedingly strong, impervious to pain, and unflinchingly loyal.”
“The perfect soldier,” Destin murmured.
“There is a price to be paid,” Evan said. “They lose some of their mental edge, creativity, decision-making ability, and the like. And the desire for more blood never leaves them.”
“I’m surprised at you,” Destin said, his face mingling grudging respect and a trace of surprise. “You used to be annoyingly ethical.”
“I’m a pirate, not a priest,” Evan snapped. “Most of my crews are converts from the empress’s bloodsworn that I bind with my blood. That takes them out of Celestine’s hands and delivers to me the most experienced sailors and fighters. They also know her weaknesses and strengths.”
“Is that how you justify it?” Destin raised an eyebrow. Same eyebrow, same way. Joltingly familiar.
“They are all given a choice—stay with the empress and die, or serve me and live. Most don’t find it a difficult decision.” Evan took a breath, forcing his muscles to relax. There was no reason to be defensive. It was just Destin, pulling whatever chain he could get hold of. “I do what’s necessary to stay alive, and make a living. Tarvos is thriving. I’ve made it into a sanctuary and fortress that the empress can’t breach. The Guardians stand watch when I am not there.”
“So you’ve figured out how to use them?” Destin said, brightening. “Did that manuscript I found—?”
“That manuscript you found was a lifesaver,” Evan said. “Thank you.”
“What about Celestine? Any meet-ups with the empress in the north?” Destin toyed with his mother’s dagger, as if half-listening, but something in the way he said it suggested he was striking close to the bone.
“She used to stalk me continually, every time I put to sea,” Evan said. “After losing several ships, she learned to keep her distance, for fear of being swamped. However, I believe the price on my head in Carthis is higher than the one your king is offering. Which is why I need a crew I can trust.”
Destin studied Evan’s face, the heat of his scrutiny bringing the blood up under his skin. “It seems what I’ve been hearing about you is true.”
“That depends,” Evan said. “What have you been hearing?”
“I am the spymaster for the king now, Pirate. I have eyes and ears across the Indio. They call you the Stormcaster of the Desert Coast and the Scourge of the Wetlands. They say you’re the only one who still defies the empress in the east. They say you are ruthless.”
Evan half-shrugged, oddly touched that Destin had been keeping track of him. “I suppose you could still call me the lord of the ocean, but Celestine has gobbled up nearly all the land. Sooner or later I have to put in to a port, and the only stronghold I have along the Desert Coast is Tarvos. Even that’s becoming more and more dangerous.” He paused, then forged ahead. “When you called me here, I thought maybe you intended to cash in.”
“No,” Destin said, “but it does have to do with the empress.” He released a long breath. “You see, a few months ago, my king sent me to Delphi to hunt down a girl with a magemark.”
Evan listened with growing alarm as Destin told his story. He’d always known this would happen—sooner or later the empress would run down her quarry and add another weapon to her armory. But to know it was actually happening was like a bolt to the heart.
“Her name is Jenna?” Evan found himself wishing that he’d accepted Destin’s offer of a drink.
“That’s the name she goes by now. Jenna Bandelow.”
“Bandelow,” Evan repeated, as if that would deliver some insight. That was not a name that Celestine had mentioned the day they’d first met, but then again, she’d only named the ones she’d already found. “You’ve seen her magemark?”
Destin nodded. He pulled out a folded paper and handed it over. “This is the sketch the king gave me.”
Evan studied it. “The jewel in the center—?”
“It appears to be a ruby. And there’s this.” Destin reached under the table and retrieved a black leather case. Setting it between them, he opened it, revealing a curved Carthian blade like the ones carried by Celestine’s horselords. “It was left to Jenna, supposedly by her mother. She killed one of the King’s Guard in Delphi with this blade.”
When Evan reached for it, Destin gripped his wrist, hard. Evan looked up, startled, all but undone by the pressure of Destin’s fingers against his pulse point. For a long moment, they stared at each other.
“Careful you don’t cut yourself,” Destin said. “It’s magicked. Jenna stabbed herself with it and nearly died.” One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Then he let go.
But it was too late. Destin had shown his hand. It had been a huge risk to contact Evan, to hold this meeting, to commit treason against the king he served. It proved that, despite his claims to the contrary, the connection between them remained. Destin hadn’t moved on, either.
Evan swallowed hard, undone by the gratitude that welled up inside him. He wrenched his mind back to the conversation. “Jenna nearly died—but she is alive?”
Destin nodded. “She’s recovering. The king has sent word to the empress, but I took steps to make sure it would take a long time to get there. Still, at best we have a few weeks before Celestine comes to collect. Maybe less.”
Evan was ambushed by a mixture of hope and dread. A few weeks. They had a few weeks. He had to find a way to . . . “You’ve questioned this . . . Jenna?”
Destin nodded. “I used persuasion on her, but it doesn’t seem to work. As you’ll recall, it doesn’t work on you, either. Still, I’ve interrogated a lot of people, and I think she was telling the truth when she said she had no idea what the magemark means.”
Hope diminished, just a bit. “What are her gifts?”