“Of course,” Finn said. “I will need to ask permission from Lord Vega, but—”
“We need to ask forgiveness, not permission,” Ash said. “If my mother forbids us to go, then it’s treason to disobey. Plus, if word leaks out to the empress’s spies, it will put all of our lives at risk, Lyss’s most of all.” As he said that, he was ambushed by a memory of the day of the attack at Oden’s Ford, when he’d wanted to tell his mentor, Joniah Balthus, that he was leaving, and Lila talked him out of it. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“What about me?” Julianna said. “I want to help, but I’m not sure my skills fit this kind of mission.”
“Besides,” Finn said, taking her hand, “your absence will be noticed.”
“Hang on,” DeVilliers said, “let’s hear the plan, and then we can figure out what kind of crew we need.”
The “plan” was embarrassingly sketchy, given that they had little information about what they would find on the other side of the Indio. DeVilliers and Strangward were the only ones among them that had been anywhere near the Desert Coast. Strangward had no memory of being to the Northern Islands, but he had studied the history of the Nazari Empire and knew the Desert Coast as well or better than anyone.
“Let’s look at the map,” Ash said.
Strangward spread a map over the mosaic floor of the temple and they all leaned in.
“It is rumored that Celestine is rebuilding her capital amid the ruins of the old capital,” he said, pointing. “Here.”
“Her bloodsworn mentioned taking prisoners to a place called Celesgarde,” Talbot said.
Strangward looked up at her in surprise. “Right,” he said. “Celesgarde.”
“How well-protected is the harbor?” DeVilliers ran her finger over the spits of land enclosing the port. “Are there cannon on the heights?”
Strangward shook his head. “I don’t know. What I do know is that the islands are protected by a barrier of storms.”
“Really,” DeVilliers said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Storms that just . . . stay there. All the time.”
“It’s magery,” the pirate said. “A boundary created by the empress’s enemies. It’s kept her contained until recently.” He seemed to be picking his way carefully. “All I know is what I heard when I was young. The trick will be to get through it without sustaining so much damage that we can’t get out again.”
“You’re a weather mage, right?” Julianna said. “Can’t you do something about that?”
“I can’t count on it,” Strangward said. “These storms were created by a powerful stormlord. I’ve never tried to counter that kind of magic.”
“Any idea how many bloodsworn she has stationed there?” Talbot said.
Strangward shook his head.
“Well,” Julianna said, “we could fill a briefing book with everything we don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s better that we don’t know,” DeVilliers said, rolling her eyes. “We’d stay home.”
“I recommend that we make a stop in Tarvos,” Strangward said. “If there’s any ship that can get through to Celesgarde, it’s Sun Spirit. Plus, we could add to our numbers with my Stormborn crew.”
“I’ll match my Sea Wolf and my crew against any of yours,” Hadley said, lifting her chin and glaring at him.
“We’re not on-boarding anyone’s crew,” Ash said. The last thing he wanted was to set sail outnumbered by a crew blood-bound to Evan Strangward. “We’re going to have to get along with what we have.”
Now Strangward and DeVilliers were new-made allies. They both looked around the room, shaking their heads, as if unimpressed.
“No offense, but Strangward and I are the only sailors among us,” DeVilliers said. “We can’t sail with a crew of two, unless you intend to cross the Indio in a jolly boat.”
“Isn’t it likely that Celestine’s crew will recognize Sun Spirit and Sea Wolf both?” Julianna said. “You’ve each been sailing these waters for years. As soon as you’re spotted, she’ll know she’s under attack.”
“That can’t happen,” Ash said. “If it comes to a fight, it’s over.”
“I have another ship that might serve,” Evan said. “It was my first ship, in fact, a small ketch. I’ve sailed it in coastal waters with a crew of two, though five would be a better number for blue-water sailing. It is not well known on either coast. I used it early in my . . . career, before I acquired larger, faster ships. I don’t believe Celestine would recognize it, especially if we modified the rigging.”
“I’m guessing that ship is in Tarvos,” DeVilliers said.
Strangward nodded. “Again, I suggest we sail Sea Wolf from here to Tarvos with a mixed crew—yours and mine. Then a small number of us will take the ketch to Celesgarde. We’ll need to come up with a story.”
“It still ends with us in Tarvos,” Ash said. “Your stronghold. With all due respect, that doesn’t sit well with me.”
“The crossing will give us a chance to get to know each other better,” Evan said. “Possibly you’ll change your mind when—” He stopped, listening. “Someone’s coming.”
Now Ash heard the thud of boots on cobblestones, and the door to the temple was flung open. It was the queen’s guard Ruby Greenholt, all out of breath, cheeks flushed. “Prince Adrian! It’s the queen. She’s fallen ill. Please hurry.”
43
TWO-STEP LILY
They’d laid her out next to the hearth in her sitting room. Amon Byrne knelt beside the queen, his face taut and pale, Magret Gray on her other side.
A ring of bluejackets kept the area around them clear. Behind the blue line stood Aunt Mellony, Micah Bayar, and an array of other faces.
Ash didn’t remember how he made his way to his mother’s side. All at once, he was there, pressing his fingers into her cold skin, feeling her life draining away under his hands.
His mother’s eyelids were blue, and her lips were tinged with it as well.
“Tell me what happened,” he said to Byrne, as he continued his physical examination. “Tell me everything.”
“We came here after dinner,” Byrne said. “That’s not unusual. We were all drinking wine, talking, when she collapsed.”
Ash flinched. He’d found the poison; he could trace its icy passage through her body. The sensation was oddly familiar.
“Bring the cup,” he snapped. Ash slid his arms under the queen, lifting her from the rug and carrying her into her bedchamber, where he laid her on the bed.
Moments later, Talbot set the cup on the bedside table. It was a jeweled cordial cup, one of the few heirlooms his mother used on a regular basis. It had belonged to her mother, his grandmother, whom he’d never met.
Ash was afraid to lift his hands, afraid his mother would slip away in the interval. “Have a look, and tell me what’s in there,” he said, tipping his head toward it.
“There’s no more wine,” Talbot said, tilting the cup to catch the light.
“Can you see anything in the bottom, on the sides, any residue?”
She held it up to the lamp on the mantel. “No, nothing I can see.”
“Let me sniff it.”
She held the cup under his nose and he took a cautious breath. The scent struck a chord of memory in him. When had he smelled that before?
Something his mother had said came back to him. Scent is the seat of memory. It is how wolves recognize family, friends, and enemies.
“Where did the wine come from?”
Byrne thrust a carafe in front of his face. “There’s still some left. We were all drinking from it, and nobody else seems to be affected.” He peered into the carafe. “There’s something sludgy, here, in the bottom.”
He started to shake it out onto his palm, but Ash said, “No! Don’t touch it. It may be toxic through skin.” Even as he said it, he thought, that doesn’t make sense. They all drank from the carafe. My mother is the only one down.
Still, Byrne dumped the residue onto a plate and held it out for Ash’s inspection. It appeared to be plant material, leaves, maybe. Ash sniffed at it cautiously. Also familiar, but different from what he’d scented in the cup.
“Talbot,” he said. “Go to Strangward’s quarters and bring back some of those leaves they use to brew tea.”