Windfall, p.25
Windfall, page 25
“I’m sorry, ma’am... I thought you were awake.”
The young sailor held her morning corner of bread. For the past several days, Liana had lived on that and water. By now, she was so desperate for the small ration, it tasted even better than Bess’ stew.
“What did you say about the baby?” she asked, taking the scratched-up iron tray.
“The princess didn’t lose her baby,” he said. “I saw her last evening. She thought it was important for you to know.”
Liana sank back against the bars, doing her best not to show her relief. “Good on her.”
The youth crouched down to her eye level.
“Are you thirsty, ma’am? The bread is even drier today,” he said with some regret.
Liana nodded before she took a good look at the young man. With the memory of Sava heavy in her heart, she thought this boy was about the same age. Instead of black spirals, though, his deep auburn hair stuck out bone straight. Freckles speckled his sun-browned nose and cheeks.
“You were trying to save the baby, weren’t you?” he said as he handed her a canteen.
“What makes you think that?”
“The princess isn’t good at lying.”
Liana smirked. “No. She’s not. Are you going to tell your captain?”
“Wouldn’t it save you?”
“Doubtful. But it might condemn the princess for a number of reasons. So best to keep it to yourself.”
“As you wish, ma’am.” He let her drink and took back the canteen. She spotted an etching on the canteen that said Meagher. Every time she had taken a drink, he had given it from his own personal water supply—a precious resource on any ship.
“What’s your name, kid?” she asked, gripping the bar as he left.
“Private Tomas Meagher,” he said. “You might hear the other men call me Trout. I’m a fisherman’s son. I hate that name—Trout.”
“Be grateful it isn’t Squiddy,” she said with a little smile.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
They arrived in the Capital the next day. Liana could feel it when the ship came into the harbor. She waited, supposing they would wait to retrieve her until Rhian had gotten a safe distance away from her captor. Finally, after hours went by, four men, including Tomas and the captain, came for her. The captain and a man who appeared to be a scribe kept their distance from Liana, as though she was a rabid animal. Tomas placed a pair of shackles on her wrists before leading her out of the brig.
“The earl has ordered the servants to prepare a cell in the old dungeon—away from the other prisoners,” the scribe said to the captain.
Liana held her shackled hands up to her chest, interrupting. “How kind. Just for me?”
They rightfully ignored her as the scribe led her, Tomas, and the rest to the dinghy that would bring them into the Capital proper. In the distant sky, storm clouds rolled in. It was going to rain tonight.
Walking the docks, Liana felt much like she was being paraded as a prize of war. It was evening, nearly sunset, and many citizens still walked out and about. They ogled at the company as they made their way to the road. She bowed her head forward, afraid she would see someone she knew. It was very likely. The docks had been her domain. In fact, if she peered far enough down the road, she would be able to see The Black Barricade—
Liana froze. Though she knew in her heart and mind that the Barricade was no more, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. She looked at the remains of the corner tavern with an unblinking stare. Perhaps it might have been easier to see nothing but ashes. It appeared, though, that the fire had been doused before it could spread to the other buildings. Someone spoke a few gruff words to her, but all she could focus on was the boarded windows, just barely hiding black charred marks from a fire. The place had once been so full of love and life; now it looked like an empty shell, a corpse. She squinted up at the topmost window just below the attic, where she used to look out at the harbor and the palace spires.
The soldier shoved her into a barred cart before she could linger. Whispers of shock and awe surrounded her as sailors and shoppers gathered. Retreating to the corner, she hid her face in her knees, praying for the humiliating ride to end soon.
“Any effects?” The scribe gathered up his papers, preparing to drive the cart.
Tomas placed her sheathed cutlass and hat on the seat beside the soldier. “That’s all. The rest is on the sloop we towed in the harbor.” He retreated toward the back of the cart and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Try not to say anything stupid. Could get you hurt again.”
“I’ll try my best,” she replied so only he could hear. She decided to take a chance. “If you see the princess, can you tell her... tell her I’m alright?”
“Let’s hope I’m better at lying than she is,” he muttered dryly.
“Thank you.” She tried to put a great deal of meaning behind the simple phrase of gratitude. Truthfully, she appreciated his kindness. She imagined it would have been easier for him to be cold to her.
A half-hour later, she arrived at the prison. Though bound, she rubbed a hand along her neck at the sight of the gallows in the prison square as she was led to her cell. She hoped it would be quick. A sharp snap of bone, then it would be over.
“Food is brought at six o’clock in the morning, noon, and six o’clock in the evening,” the scribe droned, and she tore her eyes away from the sight of her imminent doom. They pressed on through the old, crumbling section of the prison and down a set of stone steps, through the deepest reaches of the dungeon to the very last cell. “Water will be replenished as well.”
“Lovely.” She frowned, peering inside. It looked as though most of the cobwebs had been cleared. Darkness blanketed the barren place, barely kept away by a single hanging lantern.
“And where do I...?” She looked around and noticed a wooden bucket in the corner. Her nose crinkled. “Ah, never mind. I found it.”
The scribe took his leave unceremoniously. Liana sighed deeply when she was finally alone, a cloud of vapor escaping her lips. It was bloody cold down here. In the opposite corner of the bucket sat a filled pewter pitcher. She took a moment to rub water over her face and her chapped lips before taking a drink. Above her, metal clinked together, and she looked to see a pair of shackles suspended from the ceiling. Shuddering, she settled herself down on the bench, longing for her cozy berth in the captain’s cabin of the Windfall.
She closed her eyes and imagined her crew, working in their shifts until the bells rang to signal the trade-off. She pictured Ameen, his hand over Sava’s shoulder as he watched him tie his first sailor’s knot. Her last thought was of Marin, stepping lightly to the upper deck, celebrating their heavy jewel haul. It was enough to help lull her to sleep and dream of better times, sailing the sea.
Rhian wandered the room like a haunting specter. She ran the tip of her index finger along the spines of her books as she went. Passing a mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself. Nothing in the apartments had been moved or changed since she left, but Rhian found herself transformed, both inside and out.
The first thing she had done upon returning to the castle was bathe. She found it helpful to focus on that. After the bath, then she would...
What?
What was she to do now?
A maid announced her presence with a soft knock and a gentle ahem. “Your Highness. Commander Whyte would like permission to enter.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Rhian smoothed out her day dress and turned on her heel, pretending to be occupied with the fire. The blaze twisted above burning black embers of ruby and amber. Ash crusted on the logs, falling to bits into its velvety resting place. When Dillon entered, he brought a draft with him, making the flames momentarily disappear. In a quick moment, they resumed their slow burn.
“Rhian...”
Dressed in his uniform, the silver stitching appeared to be the only part of him that she found bright. His broad shoulders sagged. When she looked at him, she felt like she looked at a stranger. But she supposed he likely felt the same, from the way his gaze fell on her bodice.
“It’s yours,” she blurted, announcing the obvious.
Dillon crossed the room slowly, possibly fearing she would turn him away. He reached out, and before he could change his mind, she clasped his wrist. Pressing his palm against her midsection, she willed the baby to move. After prodding a few spots, a foot ran along the inside of her womb, making Dillon’s face lift with a smile of wonder. His happiness flowed through her. She found herself laughing tearfully at the impossibility of this perfect moment.
Her giggles evaporated, suppressed by a kiss. Their connection electrified, and no longer were they unfamiliar. The man she fell in love with broke through the tired stranger. Tossing her arms over his shoulders, euphoria overwhelmed her. He pulled back to look at her lovingly and say, “Marry me, Rhian.”
She could have melted, right there in his arms. “Yes.”
He held her cheek, kissing her again, longer this time. His mouth lingered, reveling in her lips, her presence, her body. It was just like every passionate night they had spent together in these apartments. Breathless with desire, she threaded his fingers through his hair, nails dragging upwards on his scalp, pulling loose a few locks of honey-colored hair from his ribbon.
“Divine, I thought I would never see you again,” he said. “And now you’re finally home.”
“It was Liana. She saved me,” she said, drawing back a step to look at his face. “She saved us.”
His brows drew together. “Saved you?”
“Yes! She lied.”
“What are you saying?”
“I wasn’t her captive, Dillon. She’s been protecting me this whole time. Just like you asked her to.”
His hands left her. He tucked the wayward strands of hair behind his ear. “You’re saying you went with her willingly.”
“Well, yes.”
“I saw her drag you over the wall.”
“I fell. We fell. Her crew rescued us,” she explained. “I had just killed my own brother, Dillon. The Navy came after us. What else was I supposed to do?”
He sank down on the chaise. “If I’d have known that, I would never have...” His gravelly voice faded, and she came to his side.
“Dillon.” She clutched his hand. “What’s happened since I’ve been gone?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re home.”
“Don’t do that,” she snapped. “Don’t brush me aside. I won’t accept that anymore. I deserve to know.”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “After you disappeared, your uncle became acting regent.”
“He’s here still?”
“Yes. Aliah and I pursued any avenue we could to find you,” he said. “You have to understand... How desperate I was...”
“Tell me,” she whispered, coaxing him.
“There’s something you need to know about Liana. She’s hidden her true identity...”
“I know who she is,” she said, taking him by surprise. “But what does that have to do with what you’ve...” Then, she paused. “Dillon, you didn’t...”
“I told Aliah and your uncle everything. I told them who she was and where I found her.”
“Her tavern. All her people...” Rhian stood and backed away from him. “You betrayed her.”
He got to his feet as well. “I blamed myself for what happened, for getting Liana involved. I thought she betrayed me.”
“People died, Dillon! Was it worth it?!”
“No one died! Some were arrested, but others got away,” he swore. “There was a man leading the women and children out. I looked him in the eye. I diverted the soldiers’ attention so they could get away.”
“They wouldn’t have been running if you hadn’t sold them out.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Liana kept her promise to you. She protected me. She saved me and your child by pretending to be my captor. She sacrificed herself for us. And this is how you repay her?”
“Please, believe me. If I had known, I would have taken her secret to the grave.”
“I suppose we’ll never know, will we?” She maneuvered around him and rounded the corner to the white armoire with gold handles. Dillon followed her, continuing to beg.
“Forgive me, Rhian. I only did what I thought was best. I just wanted to bring you home.”
“That won’t save Liana.” She snatched her cloak, turning to leave, but he blocked her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to the prison.”
His eyes bulged. “What? You can’t just break a criminal out of prison.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong!”
“She’s done wrong her whole life,” he retorted. “What? Will you join her at the gallows, then?” Rhian stopped short, but before she could say anything, he went on. “Liana has made her choices. Even before all this, she’s committed enough crimes for a dozen hangings. I’m not going to sit by and let you get yourself killed for her when her fate has already been decided.”
“She took care of me, Dillon,” she said tearfully. “I can’t let her die.”
“If you’re asking me to choose between you or her,” he said. “I’m going to choose you, every single time. Not only are you the love of my life, but you are the mother of my child and the queen of Caerwyn.”
The last bit of what he said echoed hollowly in her brain. She placed a hand on her breast, looking at him blankly. “Queen?”
“Pending a coronation, of course,” he muttered. “But, yes. Your uncle has been keeping your place on the throne, but now that you’ve returned, it’s yours.”
She sighed shakily, shuffling back to sink on the bed. He followed her movements, bending a knee before her. “I know. This is all overwhelming, especially after everything you’ve been through. Nothing needs to happen tonight.”
As he slid his arms around her, she rested her chin on his shoulder. “Dillon, I need you—I need you to be on my side.”
“Always,” he whispered, holding her as thunder rolled in the distance. “No matter what it takes. I’ll always support you, as my wife and as my queen.”
Chapter 30
The Serpent’s Fangs
10th of Cambath, 1723
Midnight
Capital Prison
Something shook Liana hard enough to roll her off the bench. A bright light blinded her, and she blinked hard to regain vision. When she did, Aliah Vitalis’ cold eyes stared down at her. Shit.
“I’m assuming you’re not here to bring me breakfast,” she snarled.
“Get up,” he commanded. “My father wishes to speak to you.”
“Your father can rot!”
That earned her a hard palm across the face. Her nose exploded with renewed pain, and she bowed forward to prevent another blow to the already sensitive cartilage. She started to bleed again, slow and thick. She dabbed it away with her sleeve, biting back a whimper.
“Aliah, step aside.” Liana tilted her head up, squinting her sensitive eyes to Earl Grigor Vitalis. His voice vibrated with such absolute authority that it nearly drowned out the sound of rain. Leather boots and the hem of a cloak swept in front of her. The ground shook with his steps. His black gloved hand reached out, and she flinched. Instead of striking her, however, he lifted the dark tangle of hair out of her face.
“Incredible how you look just like her,” he said in a quiet rasp. She watched him warily and scrutinized his face. He looked haunted behind the heavy bags beneath his slanted eyes. The lines above his brows deepened as he turned her face to examine her profile. “The same nose. The same eyes. The same corrupt, self-serving soul.”
Liana wanted to lash out, or at the very least slink away into a dark corner of the cell, in defiance. But she was tired of fighting—so tired. He continued to stare at her until she broke the silence. “What do you want from me?”
Aliah rummaged into his pocket and threw something down onto the ground. There was enough light from the small lantern for her to see it.
“You know what this is, don’t you?”
“A Circle of the Divine,” she drawled. “Obviously.”
“Look closer.”
She picked it up and squinted at it in the dull light. Her thumb rubbed against the surface, smoothing over the familiar three-lined inscription. Her exhaustion fell away, giving in to terror. “Where did you get this? Dunmore? He’s in the Capital?”
Aliah smiled thinly. “Tell us everything you know about Ameen Almasi.”
Her heart hammered in her throat. It stuck there, making it difficult to breathe.
“You leave him out of this!” she said, with more potency than she thought herself capable of at that moment.
She kept her eyes on Earl Vitalis as he began to pace the cell, willing him silently, desperately to forget this strange obsession he had with Ameen.
“I don’t know what Dunmore said to you, but Ameen Almasi and I are no longer involved with each other.”
“Perhaps she is ignorant, Father.”
“We can’t take chances, Aliah. We need to know what we’re dealing with,” the earl told him firmly. He began to slowly remove his gloves. “Almasi could be more dangerous than we assume.”
Utterly confused, Liana glanced between them. The earl made a quick nod to his son. She wriggled about as Aliah yanked her up. He swung her against the wall, hard enough to take her breath.
“This is a powerful rune,” the earl said in his surly voice. “Did Almasi enchant it himself?”
“You’re insane,” she snarled.
“He wore it every day, didn’t he?” He drew closer, his cloak whispering over the stone floor. “For what? For protection? For stealth?”
She managed to get to her feet and stood in the corner as tall as she could. A moment of silence went by, and he let out a resigned sigh.
“Your mother was much cleverer than you are,” he said. “She surrendered easily. Her compliance was rewarded with a quick death.”
Blinded by rage, Liana screamed, took the pitcher, and threw it at the earl. It collided with his shoulder, spilling what remained of the water over his cloak. She threw a punch. He caught her arm.
