Princess at Sea (52 page)

“You can't!” Duncan exclaimed, taking a step until Jeck shook his head and pointed his foot to kick him away. The man looked small from the top of my horse, as he glanced between the horses and us heavy with ransom. “She owes me something!” Duncan insisted, licking his lips and gesturing. “She took my skills as a cheat with her poison darts. She owes me!”

“She owes you nothing,” Jeck said, his voice disgusted.

“I
earned
it,” he insisted, his upturned face ugly in greed. “I put up with her foolishness for almost a year.” His face went desperate. “If I don't give Rylan something, he'll kill me.”

My heart clenched at his callousness, and I felt as if I had been kicked. I had been such a fool, mooning over a man and letting my emotions chart my decisions. But Jeck only made a sound of revulsion deep in his chest, shaking the reins with his arms around me to get Jy moving.

“Tess!” Duncan pleaded, taking a step after us. “Rylan will kill me!”

I clenched my jaw to keep my chin from trembling. “Good-bye, Duncan,” I said softly from atop my horse, not looking at him. “Run fast and hard. Don't come back.”

“You sorry little whore!” he suddenly swore as we clopped out of the firelight and the clean glow of moonlight bathed us. “I won't forget this. You owe me. I'll be back!”

I thought of Rylan and his fast, angry pace in the street. Satisfied, I put a hand atop Jeck's arm, and he obligingly pulled Jy to a halt. “What did the wind whisper in your ear?” I asked Duncan. “When you first turned and found me watching you. What did it say?”

His dirt-smudged face went long and still. “It said I was going to die.”

Fear trickled through me. The wind didn't know how to lie. “Then you won't be coming back,” I said, turning my face to the thin track leading out of the thorns.
God help me. What have I become?

“Tess!” Duncan called, as the clops of the three horses sounded faint on the thick moss. I closed my eyes, willing the heartache away. Jeck's arms were around me, the warmth of them reaching me even through my cloak. I finally recognized the source of my feelings of betrayal in the punta vision. They stemmed from Duncan, not the man whose arms now encircled me.

Not sure what I was feeling, I glanced at the two horses with their heavy satchels plodding behind us, twin shadows in the moonlight. “I don't remember the money,” I said.

“It showed up after you left the vision.” His resonant voice echoed up through me, and the faint hint of a deeper emotion brought me to a questioning stillness. Something tingled through me, almost like a healing force to soothe my battered soul.

We broke free of the brambles, and the horses walked faster when we turned to the east, knowing they were headed for the stables. The wind soughing through the moonlit trees held no meaning. I had killed the wind inside me. It was gone.

I closed my eyes in a long blink of relief. It was short-lived, though, as a laugh snickered beside my ear. It was the zephyr I had freed to find Duncan, and it whispered something I didn't hear before swirling my hair and dancing away.

Frightened, I held myself with a tense stillness, waiting for its return. Jeck said nothing about the brief whirlwind, for which I was thankful. “It's gone,” I said shakily. “I killed it using my anger at Duncan.”

“The wind?” he asked nonchalantly. His voice was as soft as the distant frog song, and I nodded. “Good. That will make things easier for you.”

I swallowed, suddenly nervous for his arms about me. “Is there anything else different from the dream?” I asked hesitantly.

“No,” was his quick reply, but by the hint of guilt in it, I thought he might be lying.

It seemed I could feel the waves already moving under me as
I stood at the palace quay and watched the final preparations for my new boat, the
Black Sandpiper,
to set sail on her maiden voyage. Having been commissioned even before I had lost the
Sandpiper,
it had only taken a month to finish. She was ten feet longer, had yards more sail, three inches less draft when riding empty, narrow lines to make her even faster—and was painted black. The hold had been converted entirely into living space, and I was eager to travel in the higher comforts the specially designed ship would have. There was even a tiny bathing room. Heaven.

Captain Borlett was standing with Contessa and Alex at the ramp, alive and feisty as he enthusiastically pointed at the rigging while explaining some point of nautical lore that they clearly didn't care about. He and his crew had been found in the hold of the pirate ship and freed the same day as Contessa and Alex, not nearly as injured as I had believed.

Though having gained a severe limp and pale from too many days away from the sun, he showed that his ability to bellow orders over storms hadn't been reduced at all. Seeing him dressed in his captain's best with shiny buckles and ornate braids made me feel tremendously at peace with myself. I again had my boat. Nothing could go wrong.

Filing onto the
Black Sandpiper
were several ranks of Misdev guards, their belongings on their backs and in small totes. They were returning to Misdev now that Alex felt secure among the Costenopolie court. A stir of nervousness quickened my pulse when I found Jeck in his official capacity come to a standstill behind Contessa and Alex while the prince said good-bye to a favored sentry. Jeck was leaving, too, and a small pile of his belongings waited to be loaded apart from the rest. Mine were apparently already aboard since I didn't see them on the dock.

Jeck's presence at the ramp was the main reason I was tucked out of the way while last-minute details were being remembered and dealt with. I wasn't afraid of him anymore, I was embarrassed. He had seen me at my worst—handing my charges over to pirates, getting bitten by a punta, alerting brigandines that we were escaping, trying to kill him not once but several times, fainting, crying, and generally acting like a silly woman over a man she thought loved her. God help me, it was the last that bothered me. I was a player's apprentice and might be excused for mucking my master's game up past repair, but crying over a man was pathetic.

I had taken to actively avoiding Jeck in the last month, and saw no reason to change anything. Heather had laughingly told me after I caught sight of him in the hallway, and took another, that I'd developed a healthy infatuation with him and that it was about time, as the man was so handsome he could make a dove swoon. I told her it was because he had seen me cry over Duncan, and I felt like an idiot. But the reality was I felt as though he had been judging me, and I was coming up lacking. Which was doubly painful as I was starting to wonder if Heather was right. About the infatuation part, not the dove.

Tucking a strand of wayward hair behind my ear, I watched him across the distance as he took off his gaudy hat and tried to lose it, smiling tightly when a helpful crewman rescued it before it rolled into the bay. Time had given me the chance to look upon the few days we had been forced into close association in a new light, and I wasn't sure yet what to make of it. After having seen his skills as a player and the deep emotion he was capable of, hidden behind cross words and empty looks, I had grown to respect him. At least that's what I told myself it was. It had the unfortunate result of turning me from a once-confident apprentice to a stammering, flushing seed-fluff-headed girl when he asked me anything. So I avoided him.

I was thankful the trip upriver would only take a few weeks. Then I'd be rid of him for good. He and Kavenlow had been having too many private conversations lately for my liking. It made me feel like . . . like an apprentice.

Alex's voice came faintly to me over the distance, and the populace watching from behind silken ribbons cheered. Contessa and Alex turned to wave, bringing an even more furious shout. The two of them shone without me, and I liked to watch their happiness. My eyes dropped, and a mix of melancholy and joy warmed my eyes as I was reminded of my parents. They, too, had been loved by the people they governed. Perhaps some of the people's love could be attributed to the stories of Alex's valor and Contessa's fight for his and her survival. It was easy to put your trust in two such honorable people.

My head rose, fastening on the distant blur of fluttering gray at the far end of the harbor. The pirates' bodies hung in warning to all that would enter. The vultures and eagles had been at them, not leaving much now but bones and scraps of clothing. I didn't agree with the action that had been taken to prevent another such attempt at abduction, and again I thought that perhaps my punta bite had been a blessing.

I wasn't made to be a player despite Kavenlow's assurances. I didn't have the moral fiber to carry out distasteful acts. I'd rather invent excuses to avoid them, like letting Duncan live by telling myself that his life would be hell with Rylan chasing after him. One more thing to convince Jeck I was not player material.

Shoulders slumping, I pulled my attention back to the happy throng of people on the platform. Kavenlow's somber tunic was a black spot toward which my attention gravitated, a restful place for my eyes to linger among the glaring whites and vibrant greens and golds. Why Kavenlow hadn't accepted that I couldn't be a player was a question that sifted through my sleepless nights.

He insisted on waiting six months before testing my resistance to the toxin, convinced an extended abstinence from venom and magic would allow my residuals to drop to the levels where I could function on a limited, carefully structured apprenticeship. His stout avowal that I not give up hope only strengthened after I admitted I had called the wind and told him that I had managed to purge it from me before it drove me insane.

Even that I had betrayed him using my magic hadn't moved him. It had been Jeck who finally realized that I'd changed their memories as to when the ransom was to have gone out, bringing him to the burning shack in time to save my life. And the discovery hadn't come on the heels of my not being able successfully to change their memories; I had. The tides had been wrong, and the incongruity had bothered Jeck until he decided that it was more likely I'd manipulated their memories than that the pirates were going to row up a river against the tidal current to take their ransom back out to sea.

My face warmed at the memory, and as if responding to it, a stray vagrant of wind blew up from under the dock. I wasn't sure if it was an extension of my new skills or not until the breeze swirled my hair up in a whirl, letting it fall into a snarl. Lips pressed in a mild bother, I carefully ran my fingers through my hair as a comb.

Kavenlow was of the belief that I never
had
the wind in my head, that I had mastered it the first time I had called it. He said that the laughing, derisive voice in my thoughts had been my subconscious trying to warn me that Duncan didn't love me. Jeck seemed to agree. I was trying hard not to think about it, not comfortable being able to do something that even retired masters were too wise to attempt.

As if drawn by my uncomfortable thoughts, Kavenlow turned to me. Making a gracious bow, he made his escape from the royal flurry and strode across the wide, sun-soaked dock to where I sat atop a tarp-covered bundle of hardwood slated for the next boat headed to Misdev. I wouldn't miss him too badly. After all, it was only going to be a short trip. And I only had myself to worry about this time, not a royal couple trying not to fall in love.

My hair tangled again when a zephyr whirled it upward. It was worse down here at the docks. I knew it was just my unconscious pointing out that I was lying to myself and that I would miss Kavenlow sorely. But at least it wasn't trapped in my head anymore.

“What are you doing hiding back here?” Kavenlow asked as he came to a squinting, smiling halt before me.

I shifted down the rough tarp to stand beside him, being careful not to snag my dress. “Trying to stay out of the way until we're ready to go,” I said.

He eyed me from under bushy eyebrows before turning to Jeck. Trying to stay out of Jeck's way was more likely, and I grimaced in embarrassment that he probably knew it. A sigh escaped him, and he leaned against the nearby rough-cut planks of wood. His gaze went out across the sun-laced harbor, then he bowed his head. “Tess . . .”

My heart seemed to stop. Something was wrong. I could hear it in his voice. Stiff with tension, I looked across the quay to Jeck. He was watching us, and my alarm doubled.

“I've been meaning to talk to you,” Kavenlow continued. “Contessa . . .”

“What?” I breathed, frightened.

He curled his lips in upon themselves to make his mustache shift. Still not looking at me, he said, “It was decided finally today, or I would have told you sooner. You aren't going to be the ambassador to Misdev anymore.”