Decree, p.10
Decree, page 10
He paused as if he’d been hoping she would forget. “I did,” he finally admitted. “You had said it was for the return voyage, and fortunately, she accepted it as payment.”
If only they’d been able to leave it there, but there was something strange in his voice when he said it. Something that made Kiera hesitate, while the others leaned back with expectant smirks.
“...and?” she prompted.
There was another pause.
“She ate it.” Eden flashed her the swiftest of looks, his eyes wild with apology before he hopped quickly off the railing. “Anyway, I’m off to find lunch—”
Evander’s hand flashed out, dragging him back. “You’re more likely to be lunch,” he countered, casting another look at the sails. “Honestly, Eden, I will never truly forgive you for this.”
The fae rolled his eyes, looking much younger than usual. “You’ve said that about so many things—” He caught himself quickly, deciding to take a different approach. “There were no other ships. What could we have done?”
The vampire ignored this, running his tongue over his teeth. “She sniffed me,” he muttered under his breath. “Actually sniffed me.” He cast a swift look at the others. “What do you think that means?”
Jesse crossed himself in a gesture from childhood, while Kiera couldn’t get over the fact that there was an actual giant walking around the ship.
Eden flashed a bright smile. “I think it’s how she makes friends.” He faltered ever so slightly at the look on the vampire’s face. “Stop blaming me. I am as disheartened as you.”
“No, you’re not.”
Jesse snorted with laughter, drawing Kiera back into his arms.
“Want to guess the name of the ship?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated nervously, then glanced over the side.
The Lost Cause.
Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “How appropriate.”
Eden threw up his hands. “Honestly, the lot of you are blaming me for things beyond my control. I did not pick this ship to carry us across the sea, and you cannot prove I would have chosen it for the journey here. I did not attack that man, and just because I’m not quaking in my boots like the rest of you—”
A massive hand lifted him suddenly into the air.
Seven hells!
How they hadn’t seen her coming, Kiera would never know. It was said that giants would be fast as lightning, silent as a grave, but she’d never believed it until that very moment. Now that she was standing amongst them, the entire situation just seemed absurd. How was she possibly standing on the ship without sinking it? What in the blazes was she planning on doing with the fae?
He hung from her fingers like a doll, swaying slightly in the breeze. “Did you...did you need something?”
For all his bravado and excitement, it was impossible to appear truly at ease while dangling just a few inches from those treacherous teeth. Still, the fae made a concerted effort to try.
“Our friend woke up,” he added breathlessly, fingers itching for a blade. His feet pawed reflexively at the air, while he made another concerted effort to avoid Evander’s eyes. “So...that’s good.”
Kiera lifted a shaky hand, waving in a greeting.
Her entire life, people had spoken of giants and ogres—often lumping them together as the same thing. She was able to see how foolish that was. One was a mindless monster, the other was little more than an absurdly-proportioned man. Of course, she knew there was more to it than that.
What they had in size, they also matched in cruelty—a savage kind of bloodlust that could rival the vampire himself. Short of violent endings, they had no contact with the outside world. If she wasn’t standing a foot away from this one, she never would have believed it herself.
Yet, this one appeared to be something different.
To start, she wasn’t nearly as large as the friends had been led to believe. For those who’d actually encountered giants before, she was relatively small—only stretching about halfway up the masts. A thick plating of hair was matted atop her head, muddy brown and stringy. But her teeth were the most unnerving, each one the size of a grown man’s chest.
The world hung in the balance, as they waited for her to speak.
If she can speak?
“I thought you were different,” she finally croaked. “The one with the dark hair.”
Silence.
The fae pointed at Evander. “No, he’s right there.”
In the seconds that followed, it was quite possible the immortals had broken up. Evander certainly looked ready to murder the fae himself, but he remained frozen—hopelessly outmatched, yet standing at the ready, those deadly fangs pressing without permission into his lip.
“You are a vampire,” Arsinia said bluntly. “I found you blood.”
Eden was dropped unceremoniously to the ship as she reached around for something behind her. He landed with as much grace as he could muster, even managing an encouraging smile.
“Oh, see, Evan? That’s very nice—”
She poured a vat of blood on top of him.
Quick as it was, it seemed to last forever—streaming endlessly out of the bucket she’d used to carry it and splashing down on the vampire’s head. The terrible thing was, it had clearly been done with the best of intentions. She’d accepted responsibility for the well-being of her passengers, and this one had different dietary needs than the rest. She’d merely forgotten that one crucial step.
Evander was simply stunned, blinking drops from his eyes.
“That should do it.” The giant nodded with satisfaction, then walked away.
It was quiet for a long time after she was gone, nothing but the gentle churn of the ocean and drips of what they assumed was pig’s blood plinking onto the deck.
After a few moments, Eden lifted a hand in the hopes of making something better, before lowering it back to his side. “...I’ll go get you a towel.”
THEY SAILED FOR FOUR days without incident.
The seas were rough, but Arsinia was a skilled captain—wedging the wheel, and tuning the sails with the thoughtful skill one someone who must have watched a lot of birds as a child. Given their last voyage, the friends probably should have been worried about different things—squalls, or even another kraken. But it was hard to imagine anything could touch them, with a giant on the ship.
After a few days, they’d even started to have a bit of fun.
While Arsinia had no qualms about taking up space, Kiera got that feeling that most people didn’t bother talking with her. Fortunately, the barmaid was more than willing to try. The two spent endless hours in each other’s company—one delightedly showered the other in questions, the other gave two-word answers and was careful where she stepped. Once she got past the initial horror, Kiera decided the giant was rather sweet. A pioneer in her industry, thriving in a man’s world.
It was nothing short of aspirational.
On the evening of the fifth day, when the friends were having a lazy competition flicking tiny pieces of stones over the side of the ship, they received an unexpected announcement.
“I’m having you for dinner.”
They looked up in unison, staring blankly. Kiera put her hands on her hips. “Phrase it differently.”
The giant considered a moment. “I made you dinner.”
“There—that’s much better.” Kiera hopped off the railing with a bright grin, waving distractedly for the others. “Can I help you carry it out here—”
“In my chambers.”
Despite their newfound kinship, the words had an ominous ring and Kiera froze where she was standing, watching as the giant lumbered back below the deck. The men paused as well, looking like they were considering leaping over the side of the ship and swimming the rest of the way.
I’m sure it will be fine.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Kiera called, forcing herself onwards. “Come on, who’s with me?”
A heavy silence rang over the deck.
“That’s the spirit...”
With varying degrees of misgivings, the friends followed reluctantly down the steps, making a sharp turn and walking down a corridor they’d never ventured before. A large door stood at the very end, twice the size of any other. Kiera gave it a cursory knock, then pushed inside.
By the gods!
Whatever they’d been feeling before, there was no denying the place was a marvel. Unlike the rest of the ship, which had been designed by mortals and resized only in parts, it appeared as though Arsinia had constructed this room specifically for herself. There was a bed in the corner, twice the size of the lifeboats lashed to the hull, along with a quilted blanket the woman must have stitched by hand. A leather chest was wedged into the corner, big as a stable, while the table stood so high, they would have to climb up the chairs. Only two chairs, they would also have to share.
“I did not foresee this,” Evander admitted, spiriting up the leg and lowering a hand for the fae, “when I saw you in the woods that day. I likely should have killed you, and been done.”
Eden swatted away the hand, making the climb himself. “It may surprise you, but I sometimes wish for that myself.”
Kiera was nothing short of delighted, ignoring the table completely and buzzing around the room, examining each new thing. There were shoes the size of boulders, a brass telescope that could be used to level a house. The one thing she didn’t see were weapons, the giant had no need of them.
“You better get up here before she comes back,” Jesse called down a warning, listening as those thundering steps headed their way. “If she has decided to eat some of us—I’m confident it will be the others. She’s grown attached to you. I’m keeping you close.”
She snorted with laughter, shimmying up the leg of the chair.
“Is that why you’re keeping me close?”
A bronze lantern swung above them. A slanting line of shade moved across the wall.
“Are we tacking north?” the wolf continued with a touch of confusion, swinging his legs against the chair. “Everything has begun to look the same, but I could have sworn that we are.”
Eden nodded distractedly, examining a colossal spoon. “She told me on the dock, when I booked passage. Apparently, she was planning on making port further in the highlands than where we’d set out.”
The others absorbed this in silence.
“Is that...going to be a problem?” Jesse finally asked.
Of course not. She’ll get bored and eat us long before that.
Eden lifted an eyebrow. “Did you want to tell her not to?”
Fair point.
“It matters not where we land,” he continued unexpectedly. “The second we reach the shore, we can send a raven. And after that...”
He trailed away with a peculiar expression, as if he’d lost track of the conversation and started five others in his head.
Kiera leaned forward, prompted by that relentless curiosity, but it was the look on the vampire’s face that stopped her. She graciously changed the subject instead. “So we haven’t said this yet...but Arsinia seems rather small for a giant.”
Jesse let out a tired laugh, running a hand over his face. “Of all the things not to say to a giant, that seems pretty near the top.”
“I’m serious,” Kiera insisted, glancing at the others for confirmation. “We haven’t exactly broached the subject yet, but I can’t imagine she’s more than—”
“I made stew.”
The conversation screeched to a halt, as the giant herself appeared with a steaming caldron, carrying it with a flourish into the room. The bottom was still piping hot, but she carried it with her bare hands, tilting it closer for everyone to see. Jesse took a single look, then put a bowl over his head. The room stopped for a moment, as the others turned to him. He lowered it with a blush.
“...bad joke.”
Seven hells.
“So I just realized that we’re tacking north,” Kiera said conversationally, kicking the wolf beneath the table and ladling up some stew. It took both arms to lift the spoon, but she managed without spilling. She also used the word tacking for the first time, and was rather proud of that as well. “What business brings you to the highlands?”
Arsinia sat down beside them, quaking the entire room. “A painter.”
For the second time, the conversation stopped cold. There had been many surprises along the journey. Women that sprang to life from groves of white birch and cedar. Sorcerers with a collection of half-desiccated wolves. But for all their peculiarities, there was something rather profound about hearing a giant say the word painter. It seemed too delicate for those brutish tongues.
Eden stared up at her curiously, flickering in the light of the candle. “And for what reason are you seeking a painter?”
The woman gestured blindly into the corner, her mouth dripping with stew. “Paint pictures for my book.”
Kiera’s mouth fell open.
If hearing painter was a stretch, the concept of a book was utterly beyond.
“You are...writing a book?”
The giant nodded, tearing into a chunk of meat. “Stories are important,” she said plainly. “Stories are what we leave behind. Everyone should have their story told. Even vampires and their pointy mouths.” She flicked at Evander’s chin, with what might have been a smile.
Was that a joke?!
Kiera’s eyes misted over, while Eden shot his boyfriend a sly grin.
“That is the name of your memoir,” he said under his breath. “Us vampires and our pointy mouths. I will write it for you, of course. You’d be rubbish.”
Evander nodded in silence. Then he pushed the fae off the chair.
LATER THAT NIGHT, THOSE words were still ringing in Kiera’s ears.
‘Stories are what we leave behind. Everyone should have their story told.’
In spite of their initial fears, the friends had a lovely time at dinner. The stew was not only edible, it was actually delicious—despite their secret fears as to what exactly was inside—and whether it was Kiera’s cheerful prompting, or simply an unlikely loneliness, their hostess turned out to have a lot to say. They talked about everything under the sun: when she’d decided to purchase a boat, places she’d travelled, things she’d discovered along the way. She wasn’t at all surprised to learn they’d encountered a kraken. Lots of scary fishes, these days. Nor was she particularly surprised they had been seeking out a dragon. Giants were just a few winks short of immortality. She had seen many such creatures in her day. By the time the friends had wandered back to their room, their stomachs were full and their heads were spinning. Even the vampire—who’d sworn to hate the giant from the moment the two locked eyes—was forced to admit, he’d enjoyed their time.
And what will my story say...?
Kiera lay on the bed with her arms stretched above her, turning the stone in slow circles in her hand. If she’d been thinking the red might wear off in the desert, she’d been sadly mistaken. It shone even brighter than ever—like a new forged blade, pulled from the fire.
Will I ever understand what this is meant to do? Will I ever know who called out to me in the dunes?
She stifled a sigh.
How could I write my story if I have only questions, and none of the answers?
“You’re thinking too hard,” Eden murmured, flashing a sideways look. He was sitting on the ground, watching as Evander and Jesse battled each other in a game of dice. “It’s stressing me.”
She snorted with laughter, rolling onto her stomach. “Tell me more about Ereastos,” she replied, tossing the stone towards him. “Why was it blue when he held it? But with me, it’s red as fire?”
The fae caught it with a look of surprise, tracing his fingers around the edges, before passing it back with a shrug. “He was all water—a famed explorer who spent half his life on the deck of a ship. If the stone mirrors the person, I can imagine his might be blue. Yours is all fire.”
She considered this a moment, chewing on her lip. “Kind of a slap in the face,” she murmured, grinning when he laughed. “I’m serious, fire’s like my own person tragedy, it’s followed me my entire life. My parents died in a fire, my village burned in a fire. I was nearly just burned alive the same way. Fire is the end of things, with me.”
“That’s not true,” Jesse said, without looking up from his game.
“He’s right,” Eden answered lightly, “that’s not true. Fire may have claimed your parents and the lives of those who raised you, but it’s never touched a hair on your head. Even when you were drenched in dragon-fire, you walked away unscathed. You say it’s the end of things? I would argue exactly the opposite. Fire is your beginning.” He leaned forward with a boyish smile, flipping a lock of her hair. “It’s also your signature. I’ve often been grateful for it, as we were travelling in the forest or pushing our way through a crowd. So bright a color, I could find you anywhere.”
She slipped the stone back into her pocket as they shared a tender smile.
“I love how you’re all pretending we haven’t been kidnapped,” Evander interjected, twirling the dice in his palm. “Held captive by a giant on the high seas...this is my actual nightmare.”
He dropped it in a spiral, but Jesse caught it with a quick flash of his hand.
“She made you soup,” he countered with a grin. “She isn’t so bad.”
“She made you soup. She poured blood on my head.”
Kiera laughed aloud, rolling onto her back. It was a strange dynamic that had settled between them, but she couldn’t imagine anything else. The brothers she never had, the lover she never had.
All of them bound together on a tiny ship in the middle of a rocking sea.
“Giants woke the dragons,” she murmured, “dragons drove back the mermaids...” She glanced over the side, tugging on Eden’s hair for attention. “What does that mean?”
He slapped her hand, eyeing the dice for himself. “The dragons probably burned up the water,” he said simply. “The sisters kept saying how things looked different in times gone past. I wouldn’t be at all surprised, if hundreds of years ago, before my time, most of the dunes were underwater.”
