So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

While Rupert waited for Ansel to climb the ladder, a large pelican swooped down and landed on the pier beside him. He glanced at it a second time. Was that the same bird that had been roosting aboard his ship?

“There you are!” Ansel greeted them with his booming voice and pulled Rupert into an embrace. “Ten ships, now, you rascal! You’re doing great!” He clapped Rupert on the back, then turned to embrace his cousin.

They looked very similar, Rupert thought, although Ansel’s dark, curly hair was now half gray. And Ansel was much broader across his girth.

“How is Wermer doing?” Stefan asked, since the defeated pirate captain had been assigned to Ansel’s ship.

Ansel grinned. “Not too pleased that he was demoted to a lieutenant. But I told him he could eventually work his way back up to captain.”

Stefan nodded. “If he proves his loyalty long enough.”

Ansel chuckled. “Yeah, for about ten years.”

“Come on.” Rupert motioned toward the village. “Dryden is waiting for us at the Salty Pelican.”

The three of them made their way through alleys to the back door of the tavern.

They slipped up the back stairs, carefully avoiding the horde of women in the front room. A blue kerchief was tied around the latch of the third door in the hallway. Ansel knocked softly on the door.

Dryden cracked the door and peered out. A middle-aged man, with a craggy, weathered face, he’d been one of Ansel’s most trusted seamen until he’d lost a leg in a shark attack. No longer able to climb the rigging, he’d opted for a land job instead. Now he spent most of his time hanging around taverns close to Ebton Palace, listening in on conversations. Whenever he heard anything useful, he rode to Danport to pass the information on to Rupert.

“There you are, you old codger!” Ansel barged into the room and gave his friend a bear hug. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” The spy shook hands with Stefan and Rupert, then walked toward the round table, his peg leg clunking on the wooden floor.

No fire burned in the hearth, since it was a warm spring day. On the table, a pitcher of ale and four goblets waited. Ansel filled the goblets while Stefan checked under the bed and behind a dressing screen.

Rupert drew back the curtains and blinked in surprise to find a pelican perched on the windowsill. “Shoo!” He blew a puff of air, and it hit the bird with enough force to knock it off the sill.

With a squawk, the bird fell into a rubbish bin.

“Oops.” Rupert closed the windowpane and pulled the curtains shut. “It seems like every time I turn around, there’s a pelican watching me.”

Ansel shrugged. “Those damned birds have always congregated around here. That’s how the tavern got its name.” He sat next to Dryden. “So, buddy, you have news?”

“Aye.” Dryden drew a folded sheet of paper from his jacket. “The Tourinian ambassador at Ebton Palace was passing these out to young noblemen. Since it involved Tourin, I thought you would want to know.” He unfolded the paper and set it on the table.

Rupert sat in front of it, and on either side of him, Ansel and Stefan scooted closer so they could read.





NOTICE OF COMPETITION


FOR THE HAND OF THE TOURINIAN PRINCESS

Attention all young men of noble birth:

His Most Royal Majesty, King Gunther of Tourin, decrees a competition to begin two weeks after the Spring Embrace of the moons. All those who enter will compete against one another in a series of contests designed to show combat skills and the ability to complete challenging quests.

The winner will be awarded with a betrothal to the Tourinian princess, Brigitta. If he successfully begets a son with her in one year, he will be allowed to marry her, and his son will become the heir to the throne of Tourin. If he fails, the second-place winner will take his place.

The kingdom of Tourin is not responsible for any deaths that occur during the competition. All those seeking to compete must arrive in Lourdon before the competition begins and pay the requisite fee of three hundred gold coins.

Shock sizzled through Rupert as he read the notice. Not wanting to believe it, he scanned it a second time, and his shock ignited into rage.

He jumped up so quickly his chair fell over. “Dammit to hell!”

“Calm down,” Stefan cautioned him.

As Rupert’s anger grew, the air in the room began to swirl, and a breeze ruffled the curtains and coverlet on the bed. Dammit, he needed to stop thinking about it, but how could he not face the truth? Brigitta’s brother was planning to use her as a broodmare. If one stud failed to impregnate her, the next one would be called in.

“I’ll kill that bastard!” He slashed his hand through the air, and a wind knocked the hats off his companions. They grabbed their goblets to keep them from being blown over.

“Control yourself.” Stefan righted Rupert’s fallen chair. “Do you want to start a hurricane in here?”

Dryden’s eyes widened. “He could do that?”

Rupert clenched his fists as he paced across the room. Control. He needed to stay in control. It was the one bad side effect of his power. He had become so connected to the wind that it was somehow attached to his emotions. Whenever he grew too agitated, the wind picked up like the tempest that roiled inside him. The last time he’d lost control it had been a disaster.

The Tourinian navy had tried to ambush his fleet in the fog. In his desperation to keep his men alive, he’d caused the naval ships to blast each other with their cannons. Two ships had caught on fire, and men had lost their lives.

Control. He inhaled deeply to calm the racing of his heart. But Brigitta’s words still pricked at him. Why can’t I control my own destiny? Dammit, she would never have a chance. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“Why is he so pissed?” Dryden whispered to Ansel.

Ansel cleared his throat and gave Rupert a pointed look.

Rupert took another deep breath. Dryden only knew that he carried a grudge against Gunther. He didn’t know why. And he sure didn’t know that once upon a time, Rupert had vowed to be loyal and true to a baby girl, and to always protect her. That vow was obliterated, along with your family. She is the enemy.

So why did the thought of her being abused make him want to commit murder?

“We kidnapped the princess,” Stefan explained as he retrieved the fallen hats and deposited them on the table. “She’s on board the Golden Star.”

“Holy Light.” Dryden’s eyes widened. “You have Gunther’s sister?”

With a chuckle, Ansel set his feathered captain’s hat back on his head. “Gunther must be shitting his breeches right now. He’s planned this whole contest, but thanks to us, he can’t deliver the prize.”

Prize? Rupert gritted his teeth. How dare that bastard use Brigitta as a prize?

Ansel swallowed down some ale, then belched. “Damn, but this is excellent timing for us. The more desperate Gunther is to get his sister back, the higher the ransom we can require.”

“Don’t you see what’s he’s doing?” Rupert yelled. “The bastard is using her as a broodmare! She’ll be forced to bed whoever wins.”

Ansel gave him a curious look. “And that bothers you?”