Pieces of Jade (Pirates of Orea) (6 page)

I raised my sword, ready for his next attack and looking for a moment of weakness. I had to end this now. If I defeated the captain, perhaps the others would stop their attack.

A hand on my shoulder surprised me. Eyes still on the captain, I thrust my sword behind me into my attacker, the blade slipping into the skin without protest. I gave it a hard twist.

Something on the captain’s face made me turn to face my foe.

August stood there, his sweaty brown curls pasted to his forehead.

“Jade?” August’s face contorted in pain, his eyes opened wide in surprise, and his hand clutched around the sword where I’d stabbed him. Blood seeped from between his fingers, his chest rattled and his breath gurgled.

I grasped his shoulder, trying to keep him upright as he stumbled toward me, the sword sinking in deeper.

“You don’t know how to use a sword,” he whispered in disbelief, bubbles of blood leaking out the side of his lips. “You’re just a farm girl.”

Behind him stood James, unmoving, his mouth open in horror. His mouth moved as he said something—something I couldn’t hear over the sounds of the others fighting around us
.

With one quick motion, I pulled my sword free. August groaned and sagged to his knees before collapsing to the ground with a thud. I sank to my knees beside him, applying pressure to the wound. We needed a doctor—a healer, anyone who could stop this.

August drew a deep, raspy breath . . . and then his chest stopped moving. His eyes, wide yet vacant, stared at me in a final accusation.

“August!” James shouted, and I looked up to see him thrashing against a new opponent. I opened my mouth, but no words would form.

No. This couldn’t be happening. For years I’d wanted to be free of my engagement, but never like this, never at the cost of August’s life. As much as I’d disliked—even hated him at times—I’d never wanted him dead. He was meant to be king.

We were supposed to get married . . .

Something sizzled at the back of my neck, burning my skin. My edict medallion. The chain fell from my neck and landed on August’s body. As if absorbing the prince’s blood, the stone changed from white to crimson.

A hush lulled around me. Only then did I notice the fighting had stopped. Everything aboard the pirate ship was silent, except James, who was trying to push past the wall of pirates keeping him from me. My hand went to my neck, leaving sticky prints of
August’s blood where my medallion should have been.

I’d killed a man. My fiancé.
The crown prince.

No, not killed. Murdered. I’d become a murderer.

I held my bloodied hands out in front of me, blinking and trying to convince myself that the red would fade. I didn’t dare touch it. I wasn’t worthy of it. I would rather leave it than let my guilty fingers near it.

The sound of boots broke me from my trance, and I twisted around to see the captain walking toward me. He crouched next to me, caressing the medallion reverently as he picked it up from
August’s chest, the sun glinting off the ancient stone. Every Emmía in history had worn it, but I’d been the only one to lose it.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he said quietly, “but effective nonetheless.”

“It was an accident.” My voice sounded dull to my own ears. “Our wedding was tomorrow.”

“His death is a blessing then.”

I didn’t even realize I’d slapped him until his head snapped to the side. The bloodstained imprint of my fingers stood out against his skin. The captain rubbed his cheek as he stood, glancing at the medallion in his hand.

With a growl of pure rage, James broke through the pirate wall and charged the captain, his sword
raised. The captain held him off easily as James’s
deep wound dripped fresh blood onto the deck—a crimson trail that slid across the wood until it merged with the pool around his brother’s lifeless body. Around James’s neck, his edict medallion still shone white as new snow, a stark contrast to the flaming scarlet of my own, now lost to the pirate.

None of the pirates seemed to care as two of the Iris’s crewmembers took
August’s body and carried him to the edge of the ship. They were all too riveted by the fight now taking place between James and the captain. James thrust and the captain parried the blow, laughing like it was all a sick joke—which only made James strike harder.

Someone—an older man from the Isis—helped me to my feet, and another pulled a pistol, holding off the pirate crew while we made our escape.

I looked back for James, still dueling the pirate captain. Despite the anger in the prince’s movements, his blows grew weaker, his movement sluggish. The captain slunk closer, disarming James in a swift movement that sent his weapon crashing to the deck.

“Go,” the captain said, with a nod of his head. “We have what we want.”

Behind me, the others had already started down the netting that draped the side of the ship. But I couldn’t move until I saw James stumble our way. Behind him, the captain’s eyes found me, his face instantly changing. He sprinted across the deck, and before I could move, he’d grabbed my hand in a tight grip.

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice gruff and his eyes pleading. “You’ll be safer with me.”

I bit his fingers that clenched mine, and he released me with a curse, and
I descended the netting.

The longboat
August’s rescue party had brought already held the heir’s lifeless body, the remaining crew taking up their oars. James still wasn’t there, but before I could beg them to wait, he appeared at the side of the ship, sliding down a rope. Once his feet hit the planks, the crew heaved at their oars, putting distance between us and the pirates. The sea beat against the side of the boat as James raised his eyes to the pirate captain.

They stared at each other, both looks unreadable.

I stood, making eye contact with the captain and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Someday, I will kill you for this.” A crewman pulled me down. I curled my arms around myself, trying to ease my shaking, only to realize my threat was useless. A lie. After what I’d just done, I’d be the one facing death.

Above us, the pirates opened the sails and the ship began moving away from the island, out into the open sea. The captain stood on the edge as if ready to jump into the
water, his eyes full of something almost like pity. But two pirates pulled him back, holding him tight even as he fought against them.

There was no need to follow us now. They had what they wanted. My betrayal. My medallion.

James reached down and closed his brother’s eyes. Even with them closed I could still picture their emptiness. He leaned back, face full of anguish and jaw clenched until he grabbed another set of oars and started rowing towards the Iris.

Neither one of us spoke. Our selfish desire for a day to ourselves had ruined everything. James refused to even look at me, so all I could do was stare at my hands. Even then, every time I closed my eyes I saw the flash of surprise on
August’s face when I’d . . . when I’d . . . I swallowed hard. Nothing I could say would ever fix this. August had boarded that ship to save me and I’d murdered him. Even now I could barely comprehend what my hands had done.

Why had I let the Admiral, my father’s closest friend, talk me into the sword lessons when I was a child?
If I hadn’t known how to swordfight, August would still be alive.

Once our longboat pulled alongside the Iris, which had drifted helplessly nearer the island where we had first been ambushed, James ordered a stretcher for August. As the crew scrambled up the netting, James and I sat in silence, the waves gently lifting us up and down.

“How did everything go so wrong?” I finally asked, my eyes riveted to the horizon.

Several seconds passed before he answered. “I don’t know.”
             

“You must know how sorry I am. It was an accident. You saw that.”

“I know what I saw.”

I chewed my bottom lip, wondering at his meaning. “When we return—”

“You'll be executed as a traitor to the kingdom.” His voice was flat, emotionless. He stood suddenly and the boat rocked back and forth. “I—Not even I can stop that.”

“I know.”

A long, makeshift basket was lowered down and I helped James set his brother inside. With a shout from James, the body was hoisted upward.

James reached for the netting to start his climb, but I grabbed his shoulder.

“James,” I said.

Finally, he met my eyes.

“I—” I shook my head, not sure what to say. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I will never forgive myself.”

He stared at
me, the pain and insecurity in his eyes turning suddenly hard, and he pulled himself up the netting.

I followed, slower. When we reached the railing, the metallic smell of blood filled my nostrils. With all that had transpired on the pirate’s ship, I’d forgotten about the men on the Iris that had fought for their lives. The once beautiful deck was now strewn with bodies, fallen weapons, and the broken and frayed remains of the damaged ship. The loose ends of shredded sails snapped crisply in the wind. What crew of the Iris that had survived were bound and gagged. The eyes of James’s men were wide as they watched us climb back onto the ship. Even through their gags, I could hear the gasps as the men stared at the lifeless prince.

James stood resolutely. “My brother has fallen in battle against the pirate invaders. No one is to speak of this until I have informed my father of the prince’s death.” He turned to his first mate. “Please take August’s body below deck and find two capable men to guard it until I tell you otherwise.”

The first mate untied another man, and together they carried the stretcher down the stairs. I stared after them, feeling hollow. I lifted my hand to my medallion, remembering too late it was gone.

Murderer
.

The sound of a faraway bell was carried to us through the wind. James turned and pulled his spyglass
from his pocket. It was crushed, but he didn’t need it. Around the island a naval vessel appeared. James cursed and threw his broken glass into the water.

Leaning heavily against the rail of the ship, James let out a groan that seemed to come from the core of his being. I stood only inches away, trying to find the words he needed to hear, but the moment he noticed me he strode away. I trailed after him, arranging my long blonde hair to hide my missing medallion, and watching as he took in the damage
. Two of the longboats were missing, probably what the pirates who’d been left behind had used to escape to their ship. When there was nothing left for him to do, he headed in the direction of his cabin.

“James!” I called out. There was so much left unsaid and I didn’t want to die without resolving it
.

He folded his arms behind his back, his eyes guarded. “I know we need to talk, Jade. But it will have to wait.”

I frowned, but let him go. My hand reached up, searching for my medallion out of habit before I remembered it was gone. Ducking my head, I turned to walk towards the cabin James had set aside for me.

I closed the door and leaned back against the strong wood. And finally, for the first time since I’d pulled my sword from
August’s body, I let myself feel what I’d done.

It was as if a crack split the dam of my emotions, and with the fury of a tidal wave they rushed through me—grief, anger, guilt, shame—each whirring in an unending loop.
August’s blood painted my hands . . . what had I done?

My hands raked through my hair, snagging on my engagement ring. The ring felt like an anchor on my hand, weighed down by
August’s death. I slid off the ring and left it by the sink, now unworthy of it. The once sparkling diamonds were covered with a film of red. Blood still hid in the crevices, obscuring the jewels gleam.

I stared at my bare finger, then both of my hands. They had ended a life in its prime. His parents would never see him again or laugh at one of his satirical commentaries. A whole kingdom lost their future king. I’d stolen him from them. August would never grow old, he’d never . . . he’d never do anything again. Instead of ruling a kingdom, a sword pierced his
chest, his blood flowed out of his body onto my hands. I could still feel it, smell it.

Before I fully realized what I was doing, I was at the basin in my room, ignoring the throbbing in my scars as I tried to get the blood off my skin. I scrubbed harder, making the skin turn raw, and long after the blood was gone I still didn’t feel clean, until finally my stomach turned and I leaned over the sink, vomiting.

When my stomach was empty, I shed my dirty, torn dress only to find myself covered in the blood of my sin, the rust-colored stain of blood clinging to my skin.

I filled the polished walnut tub with water and climbed in, bypassing the scented scrubs and clutching instead the strongest bar of lye soap. I scrubbed every inch of my body, trying to rid myself of the taint of
August’s death. It left my skin raw and screaming in protest. I scrubbed even harder, determined to wash away my horrible mistake, sure that enough water and strong soap could erase the cold pit in my heart. I washed until the pain overwhelmed me and I surrendered, dropping the soap into the tub, unable to scrub any longer, and finally accepting that I would never be clean again.