Between wind and water, p.1
Between Wind & Water, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
BETWEEN WIND & WATER. Copyright 2023 © Shawna Barnett. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information visit www.hansenhousebooks.com.
Cover design by Elizabeth Jeannel
ISBN 978-1-956037-03-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-956037-04-3 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-956037-02-9 (eBook)
First Edition
First Edition: August 2023
This eBook edition first published in 2023
Published by Hansen House
www.hansenhousebooks.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Between Wind & Water (Legends of Vioria, #2)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Descent
20th of Candelath, 1724,
The Capital of Caerwyn
Rhian’s heart pounded so hard that she could feel it beating beneath her clenched fist pressed against her chest. She padded to a corner near the Harbormaster’s office and peered around it. Wiping her clammy palms against the inside of her thick, scratchy wool cloak, she stepped under the light of the full moon and skittered across the street. She weaved through the masses, drawn to the row of taverns near the docks. Men crowded the doors like vultures hungering after a freshly slain carcass.
And it certainly smelled like a dead animal down here in the pitiful edge of Caerwyn’s mighty capital.
Rhian sidestepped what looked suspiciously like a puddle of vomit. The music from inside the buildings danced across the strings of countless fiddles and pulsed against drums with opposing tempos. She wondered who it was for. No one danced. Instead, they drank, even in the streets, cackling and leaning on each other.
Someone shouted shrilly to her right, making her nearly trot backward into the vomit. She suppressed a disgusted shriek before choosing a door and scurrying through it.
At least now she could focus on the music from one place. The tavern—Rhian hadn’t looked at the name of it when she rushed in—seemed more intimate than the others she had walked past. The people inside appeared to know each other well, all huddling close at their tables to talk. But as she stepped further in, she realized that they weren’t friends conversing at all. They were gamblers at their tables, poised so tense that it could only mean that they participated in a high-stakes game.
Rhian spotted a single seat at a table near a pile of ale barrels. She took it quickly and adjusted her hood, careful not to show too much of her face. This was certainly not a place for a mother of an infant, let alone the queen of Caerwyn. But she had stubbornly left both of those identities behind the palace walls. Tonight, she was simply a woman, sifting through the night for what she needed.
“Oi! Ye cheatin’ bastard!”
Rhian started again, gripping the seat of her chair as a glass of ale flew across the taproom and smashed into the wall. Three large men pommeled into the fleeing cheater, who had barely been able to make a move to escape. He screamed, digging his fingers into the floor as they dragged him to the back alley. Another man of a slighter frame heaved a sigh and took up a meat cleaver from behind the bar. He looked solemnly dutiful as he followed them outside. As this occurred, the patrons began to beat their fists on their tables, not caring for the coins rattling and the cards dropping.
“Cut them off!” they chanted, to the rhythm of the fiddle—or perhaps the musician took their lead. “Cut them off!”
Rhian’s fingers curled around her mouth, and the blood drained from her face. Bile rose in her stomach as she faced two choices: get out now or delve deeper into this frighteningly unfamiliar place. Peeling her hands from her face, she willed her pulse to slow. She pressed into her chair, observing, seeking the best avenue for the knowledge she needed.
On wobbly legs, she stood and marched into the thick of it. She elbowed her way between a pair of husky shoulders. “Pardon me!”
One of their shoulders swiped her hood from her head, displaying her golden hair tied in a loose braid. Several leering heads turned toward her before she could replace it again. Intoxicated pairs of eyes tracked her, seeing not a queen but a pretty young woman alone. Tucking her braid back into her hood, Rhian backtracked through the crowd as several hands grabbed at her clothes.
“Come and have a seat, sweet girl,” a breathy voice, laden with ale, crooned in her ear.
Fear rushed through her veins, mingling with the magic that threatened to strike from her fingertips. She held them close under the woolen cloak. Wrenching herself free from a bony hand, she screamed, “Touch me again, and you will regret it!”
She could kill every last soul in this taproom. She could run back to the palace and blame the carnage on a kitchen fire or gunpowder explosion. She could get away with murder, just like she had before.
Rhian had that power.
But, no. Not even the risk of ending one innocent life was worth it if she could possibly get away without bloodshed.
Still, her threat was met with a chorus of hearty laughter. She tried again.
“I’m not here for you, pigs!” She tried to say the words in a deep, commanding bark. But instead, they came out high with terror.
Then someone tugged her backward.
“Then what’re the likes of ye doin’ here, lass?”
Rhian whirled around, coming face to face with a pair of stern, heavy-lidded eyes. The woman who owned them sneered and gave her a look over. “I’ve been watchin’ ye since ye came through the door. Ye stick out too well.”
The woman arched a brow high and, without a word of warning, gripped Rhian’s cheeks, squishing them between her thumbs so hard that her lips parted. Rhian slapped the woman’s hands away and straightened up. A few whines and groans of disappointment echoed around her, and she flinched.
“Get on, ye filthy animals! She’s not for sale. Away with ye!” Then the woman rounded on Rhian. “And you, lass. Go.”
“I will not,” Rhian answered, finding her voice more akin to how she wanted to hear it. “I am here to ask after a friend.”
The woman snorted, wiping the heel of her hand against her nose, then rubbing it against her apron. “And what friend would ye find in a place like this one?”
“Captain Liana Foley.”
More heads turned at the name. Even the dash girl across the room stopped in her tracks to look at Rhian. On the opposite end, the men that had been bothering her quickly fled their table, disappearing through the back door that led to the alleyway. It left Rhian quite amused. However, the woman she spoke with appeared to find it no funnier than a statue would have.
Then, as swift as a feline striking a mouse, she took Rhian by the arm and dragged her up the stairs.
Again, she plotted her escape. But the plans were interrupted as she was tugged down the hall. A cacophony of sounds drew Rhian’s attention away momentarily from her safety. The unmistakable voices of men and women receiving pleasure echoed like a choir in mass.
“I–-Is this a brothel?” Rhian tripped over her tongue, earning a cackling laugh from the woman as they entered a room at the very end of the hall.
“It would do ye well to know what sort of place yer venturing in before ye go there,” she said, slamming the door “Now, tell me true. Are ye under the protection of Captain Foley, girl?”
“I can protect myself,” she shot back and truly meant it.
“Would ye prove it tonight?” the woman challenged.
Rhian accepted. She unfastened her cloak, throwing it violently on the floor. She raised her chin up and said, “I will not be accosted or assaulted by you or anyone in this place.”
The woman drew back and sucked in a shivering breath. She croaked, raising shaking hands as she fell on her knees. “I–I didn’t realize, I didn’t—”
“I didn’t mean for anyone to, but that hope is gone now.” Rhian crossed the room to the door and listened. When she was certain that no one was walking through the hall, she turned back to the woman. “What is your name?”
“Celia, Majesty.”
“Not very many people would have recognized me only by my face.”
“I–I was present the day of yer coronation. When ye rode about the city, I saw yer face then.”
“That was ne
“Thank ye, Majesty.” She stared hard at the floor.
“I came here for a very specific reason, and I will not leave until I have what I came here for.” Rhian narrowed her eyes. “What do you know of the Windfall?”
Celia audibly swallowed, trembling. A heavy pause tainted the air between them. “Nothing at all.”
“You’re lying.”
“Nothing of importance, I mean, Majesty,” Celia stammered. “There isn’t a soul on these docks that hasn’t heard of Captain Liana Foley.”
“I need to know anything that I can about her.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, but don’t ye have spies at yer disposal to find such things for ye.” Celia was getting bolder, but Rhian didn’t find it unpleasant or bothersome.
She smiled wryly. “None that I can trust.”
“And ye feel ye can trust the likes of me.” Celia grimaced, showing a row of half rotted teeth.
“I haven’t a choice, now.”
“Is it true that ye saved the captain from the noose?”
The image of Liana, so weak and bruised under her hands with the remnants of frayed rope still around her neck, flashed in Rhian’s memory. “Yes.”
“And do ye truly find her a friend?”
Rhian swiped at a strand of hair that tickled the side of her face and cocked her head. “You know her, don’t you? More than through rumors.”
Celia’s mouth curved into a tight frown.
“You’ve met her,” Rhian pressed, doing all she could to stifle her excitement.
“Aye.”
Rhian lifted her hand, reaching an open palm to Celia, who stared at it dumbly. “Stand up. Please.”
Trembling, Celia let her ruddy fingers touch Rhian’s soft hand and came to her feet.
“I would reward you very well for any information that you have on Captain Foley and the whereabouts of her ship,” Rhian said softly. She patted the top of Celia’s knuckles. “I can give you money, and if I come to trust you well enough, I can offer much more.”
“That woman has done more for my family than anyone else,” Celia whispered. “I willnae be quick to betray ‘er.”
Rhian shook her head. “I am not asking that you betray her. She has done a great deal for me as well. I don’t know if I can trust the mouths in the palace that speak to me about her. In truth, I want to think the best of her.”
“What ye hear from them may be true,” Celia warned.
Rhian’s stomach dropped as she let go of Celia’s hand. “What do you mean?”
“She could be a Holy Guardian—if she weren’t so formidable.”
“Tell me how you know this.”
Celia’s hand anxiously returned to her middle . In response, Rhian reached into a small satchel at her belt, fisted its contents and dropped them onto the little bed. Celia’s eyes glimmered in the candlelight just as the gold coins on her duvet did. She gathered them in her hands, so desperately that it made Rhian’s heart clench in sympathy.
Clutching the precious coins, Celia finally answered. “My cousin is a member of her crew.”
“Where is he? Where are they? Please, Celia. Tell me everything,” she said in a jumbled rush, fueled by hope.
“I dinnae know exactly where. No one has heard of anything since they battled against the navy before spring and fled north. That is the truth.”
“North...” Rhian muttered. “I already knew that.”
“I’d wager that they haven’t been at sea much,” Celia went on, “since no one’s heard a bloody thing.”
“So wherever they landed, they likely stayed...”
“Aye.”
Rhian stepped away, clenching her fists at her sides, still no closer to finding Liana. Six months ago, she had been fully prepared to let the pirate captain go, to see her sail away without any hope of seeing her again. But when word came back of the battle in Sulnath and the death of Aliah, Rhian needed to know what had happened.
They had parted as friends, much closer than any relationship that Rhian had ever had before. She still remembered the warmth of Liana’s cheek beneath her lips as they had said their goodbyes.
“Och!”
Celia’s outburst brought Rhian back to the present. She looked perturbed and a little infuriated. “Divine damn it all. I canna leave ye standing like that lookin’ so forlorn, Majesty.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Captain Foley clearly has stolen yer wee heart,” Celia said, as though she passively spoke of a loose stitch in her apron.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean!” Rhian’s nostrils flared, and she straightened up, haughtily.
Celia rolled her eyes with a knowing grin. Her brown teeth flashed at Rhian mockingly. “I know the look. Captain Foley has many of the doxies’ eyes on her. She’s got that way about her. I suppose if I fancied the women, she’d be one I’d turn to—in my younger days, I mean, of course.”
“If it means you’ll help me find her, then believe whatever you’d like!”
Licking her lips, Celia looked Rhian up and down. “Have ye got more of that coin on yer person, Majesty?”
Rhian scoffed, but nevertheless, reached into the front of her petticoat where she had hidden a smaller stash. “That’s all I have with me. But if you give me what I need, you’ll have more.”
“As ye like. Now come with me, Majesty. I’d like ye to meet my husband.”
They came to a door. “ELLIS!” Celia called, bursting it open, without knocking. At first, Rhian was under the impression that the room was theirs and that was why Celia entered so boldly. But in an instant, she realized that idea was untrue.
The thud of a body hitting the floor made Rhian leap behind Celia, before she stalked toward her husband, laying on the bed with his bearded mouth open in shock. A woman, stark naked, scrambled for her clothes at the balding man’s feet.
“CELIA! WHAT IN THE DIVINE—”
“Ellis, get yer trousers on. Amelia, Ellis is finished with ye for the night. He has other company.”
“But he hasn’t paid me yet!” the woman—apparently Amelia—whined, dropping her shift in outrage.
Celia shoved one of the coins that she’d just received from Rhian into Amelia’s hands. “Does this suit ye?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amelia answered, immediately satisfied.
Rhian’s jaw hung loose, unable to believe her eyes or ears. When Amelia’s gaze met hers, she immediately looked at the wall. In response, Amelia simply pulled her shift over her head, gathered the rest of her clothes and strode into the hallway.
“What is the meanin’ of this Celia!” Ellis rounded on his wife, angrier than a rabid dog at the interruption.
“I think ye’ll find an audience with the Queen of Caerwyn herself is much more important than a night with a whore, Ellis,” Celia answered, tartly.
“The q-queen?” His voice changed pitch, his words released some spittle that landed in his beard from excitement.
“Aye. She’ll be needing all ye have to share about Captain Foley. Now, I must get back to work. Good night to ye both.”
With that, Celia turned on her heel, gave Rhian a flourishing curtsy, and left her in the small tavern room with a strange, dirty man who had just moments prior had a naked prostitute in his lap. Ellis spoke the first word to break the stale silence. “Yer Majesty, pardon me while I...freshen myself up.” He hobbled to a basin of murky water and splashed it on his face. Then, he rubbed it over his bare chest and groaned in satisfaction as he scratched a bothersome itch beneath the patch of hair on his chest. After patting his face with a yellowed, sweat-stained shirt, he donned it and turned to Rhian. “I assume my wife accepted a bribe of sorts.”
“Of sorts,” Rhian agreed, nervously rubbing her collarbone.
“Well then,” he said, waving an arm. “What is it ye’d like to know about Captain Foley and the Windfall.”
“Your wife tells me that you have a family member in the crew. Have you received any communication from them since spring?”
“Aye. We have.”
Rhian tilted her head in surprise. Celia’s outright lie didn’t shock her, but Ellis’ openness did. She supposed that he felt it alright to tell the truth after his wife had approved of it. “And?”
“Last I heard, the Windfall was docked in Stonehall.”
“And when did you hear this?”
Ellis pursed his lips. “I’d say three weeks ago is when we received the latest letter.”
