I’m not one to listen to the stories that filter through our world like grains of salt through open hands, but there’s something about Rycroft that has always set me on edge. He owns a slave ship in the northern isle. I can’t be sure which, and I know it’s unlikely to be the same vessel Madrid had to murder her way out of, but there isn’t a member of my crew who doesn’t bristle at his name. Politics prevail, though, and declaring a feud with the Xaprár wouldn’t be worth it.
I look to Madrid and Kye, who tuck themselves behind the shrubs beside me. While Kye turns to me with a questioning stare, Madrid’s eyes stay focused on Rycroft, unblinking. She won’t risk letting him out of her sight; she doesn’t risk anything when it comes to her countrymen. It’s why Kye insisted he be in her squad, if for nothing else than to hold her back if the time comes.
Torik has taken flank across the way with more of the crew, weapons poised for whatever could go wrong. To approach Rycroft with my crew, in any place outside of a tavern, would arouse suspicion. I have to be cautious and clever, which is lucky because I like to think I’m always both of those things at any given time.
I turn to Lira. She looks like a portrait, with deep copper hair pulled from her star-freckled face, only confirming the fact that she isn’t capable of lying low. Not saying whatever crosses her damned mind. Lira can keep secrets but she can’t, by any stretch of the imagination, keep peace. While I have ample practice in pretend, there’s too much fire in Lira’s eyes for such things. Some people burn so brightly, it’s impossible to put the flames out. Thankfully, that’s just what I need.
The captain of the Saad approaching another pirate ship with his league of siren killers would only end in death, but Elian Midas, prince and arrogant son of a bitch, strolling through the docks with a new woman on his arm, too brazen to be a sleuth or a spy . . . that just might work. Rycroft might just let enough of his guard down to let us aboard his ship. And once we’re on board, all I need is for Lira to confirm he has what we’re looking for.
“If you’re ready,” I say to Lira,“I give you permission to risk your life for me.”
She lifts her chin. There’s something about the way she carries herself that reminds me of the women at court. She has the air of someone with a lifetime of never knowing anything but her own way. I know because I have an identical look. Though I try to hide it, I know it’s still there. The entitlement. The stubbornness that can never truly be lost.
It’s not a look that belongs on the face of a lost orphan girl.
I make to take her hand and head toward Rycroft’s ship, when Kye grabs on to my shirtsleeve. He doesn’t need to say anything; I can read the look in his eyes telling me that he’d rather be the one by my side if we’re going to go head-on with Rycroft. Truth be told, I’d feel better having him there too. Thing is, as pretty as Kye might find himself, I don’t think Rycroft would agree, and what I need right now is an inconspicuous companion, not a pirate-shaped protector.
“Just trust me,” I tell him.
“It’s not you I don’t trust.”
Lira laughs, like someone worrying about my safety is the funniest thing she’s heard all day. “Better be careful,” she tells me. “I could strike a bargain with the Xaprár and use those three days of sword training to stab you in the back.”
“As though you’d ever abandon the luxuries of the Saad for Rycroft’s rust boat,” I say, gesturing to Rycroft’s ship.
It isn’t a bad vessel, but it’s no match for the deadly beauty of the Saad. With a redwood body and sails the color of ash, it’s more than worthy for looting, but to hunt the Princes’ Bane and her sea witch mother, or hold a prince whose heart does not beat but crashes like ocean waves . . . well, it’s not quite capable of that.
“I don’t see much difference,” Lira says. “Paint the wood a shade darker, give the captain a large chip for his shoulder, and I wouldn’t notice a thing.”
I widen my eyes, outraged, but Lira only smiles.
“Just remember,” she says, blue eyes glistening,“if you want this scum to believe you and I could be together” – her voice echoes with shameless disbelief – “then you need to take off that ridiculous hat.”
“Just you remember,” I say as we step out from behind the shrubs and approach my lounging rival, “if we’re caught, there’s no way in hell I’m risking my neck to save you.”