The Runaway King (16 page)

Fink only nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

C
arthya was a landlocked country, one of the crueler fates of my life. It was true that we had a favorable climate and some of the best land for natural resources of any of our neighboring countries.

But no sea of our own.

The pirates’ beach was full of rocks that became hot to bare feet if the sun got warm enough. But even an overheated beach was better than no beach. I could sit here all day gazing across the gentle waves at the line where the sea meets the sky. Somewhere on the other side were foreign countries I knew little about. Maybe one day I’d take a voyage, explore their lands and learn their ways. In fact, I had tentatively planned on doing something like that after Mrs. Turbeldy kicked me out of the orphanage for the last time. I had known my parents would hate the idea if they ever found out, which had somehow made it more appealing.

For a long time I watched a flock of seagulls circling just over the water, engaged in a mesmerizing dance in flight. I had some bread left from earlier that day and plucked off pieces to throw on the sand, then waited. A few of them landed and fought for the food. I gave them more, drawing them closer to me each time. Then I pinched a piece between my fingers and held it out to one bird who seemed a little braver than most. His head bobbed back and forth between my face and the bread as he debated whether it was worth the risk to take the crumb.

“C’mon,” I whispered. “You want it. Take your chance.”

He darted forward to grab the bread, but suddenly flew off as a rock landed in the sand near him. The rest of the flock scattered as well.

Behind me, Devlin snarled, “Miserable pests. They’re nothing but scavengers.”

As if pirates were any higher order of life. But I clenched my jaw and said nothing as I returned to staring at the sea. It was inevitable we’d have to talk.

He walked up beside me and said, “You seem deep in thought.”

I shifted on the ground. “I was.”

Devlin carried my sword in his hands, which he stuck into the sand in front of me. He dropped the scabbard at my side, then plunked down on the beach, leaning backward and propping himself with his arms.

I stared at the sword a moment, then asked, “Where’s my knife?”

“I’m keeping it,” he said. “It’s mine now.”

“Take care of it. It’d better be in good condition when I steal it back.”

He chuckled, then said, “Yes, Agor believes you must be a good thief, because your skills as a swordsman are dismal.”

I shrugged that off. “
Dismal
is such a judgmental word. I prefer to say that it was a close match and I barely lost.”

“No, I don’t think it was that at all.”

I smiled over at him, expecting another joke about my lack of skills, but his expression was far too serious.

“The reason I accepted you so easily as a pirate is because of the stories Erick told us about you,” Devlin continued. “How you stood up to King Vargan, or tricked him anyway. That you attacked a group of his thieves in Carthya, defending an innocent woman and child. You got a cut but several of them came home seriously injured. How did that happen, Sage?”

“Maybe I took them by surprise.”

“Yes, maybe. But in that noble’s house, there was a man who said it was better to give you whatever you want because you’d end up getting it anyway. Erick said you later killed that man.” He waited for me to answer, but this time I only stared at him. “I’m willing to bet you’re a very good swordsman. I think you threw the match with Agor so that you would look even less impressive. My only question is why you did it.”

I raised my sleeve so that he could see the assembly of bruises from that match. “You think I’d let him do this if I had the power to stop him?”

“Yes, I do.” Devlin’s lip curled as he evaluated me. “I think you’re more than just a thief. And although there is a cave full of Carthyan treasure somewhere, I think you intend to keep it for yourself. Above all else, I think that you are a compulsive liar.”

My laughter was tense, but sincere. “Hardly. In fact, I consider myself a compulsive truth teller. It’s only that everyone else seems compelled to misunderstand me.”

“And so that sword fight with Agor was a misunderstanding?” Devlin pointed at the sword. “Pick it up. I want to see it in your hand.”

After a loud huff, I stood and picked up the sword. I made no effort to pretend that I couldn’t hold it properly or that it was too heavy for me. He’d have seen right through something like that.

Devlin also stood, then widened his arms to show that he had no weapon. “I’ve been thinking about that priest. How did you say you knew him?”

“He took me in once,” I said.

“Ah. His name was Fontelaine. Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“Fontelaine was well known, not only in Dichell but in all of northern Avenia. He took in a great many street boys over the years, more than could be counted, and never asked for or expected any reward.”

I wondered, briefly, whether my father had given Fontelaine any payment for taking me in. Probably not. He’d have worried that a payment might have justified the priest’s suspicions that I was someone more than a street boy.

“I gave him the finest reward he could have hoped for,” Devlin said. “Martyrdom. He got to die for a cause. Do you know why I killed him?”

The grip on my sword tightened. I had any number of reasons to justify using it against this evil man.

Devlin answered his own question. “He thought he had the young prince of Carthya at his church, a boy who somehow escaped from a ship we attacked.”

“You must have felt so stupid when he escaped,” I said. “How long did it take to realize you’d been tricked by a ten-year-old boy?”

His right eye twitched before he continued. “We thought he went down with the ship, until Fontelaine sent a messenger out to find the prince’s brother, who was searching Avenia for any news of the lost prince. Word of this eventually got back to us. By the time I got there the boy was gone. The priest assured me it hadn’t been the prince, but the damage was done. He should have told the pirates as soon as that boy arrived, and let us determine his identity.”

“If it wasn’t the prince, you killed the priest for nothing,” I said.

“Fontelaine died as an example of what happens to Avenians who fail to respect the pirates!” Devlin said. “If you knew him, then you can guess how he died. No pleas for his life, no tears, no bargains. Unfortunately, I had to make an example of him, so his death had to be slow and painful.”

“And what about the prince, now that he’s come back?”

His eyes darkened, and I saw in them a thirst for blood. My blood. “Don’t worry about Jaron. We’ll get him too, very soon.”

Anger filled me and I wasn’t taking it well. If I was going to act, this was my moment. And yet something held me back. The sweat on my palms made it difficult to hold the sword, and I switched it to my right hand.

Devlin smiled. “Perhaps you can use that weapon. Then why not strike me? Earlier, you said you might, to avenge what I did to that priest.”

Heat bristled across my body as I glared at Devlin. He was baiting me for a fight he clearly wanted. So why couldn’t I do it? Wasn’t this why I’d come to the pirates, for this exact purpose? Whatever I might do, he deserved it. And yet I felt weaker than ever, as though I was incapable of doing the one thing that might save my country.

Devlin crouched down and picked up a handful of rocks on the beach. He flung one at me, hitting me in the shoulder. “Maybe Agor was right,” he said, tossing another rock at my chest. “You’re no swordsman. You’re a thief only because you’ve got no ability to be anything better. Untying knots is a nice trick, but it won’t put bread in either your mouth or mine.”

Then he flung another rock at me, this one much harder, and it stung the cut on my stomach. “Do you think you’re better than the rest of us? Better than me? Now fight!” And he threw the rest of the rocks at me. I ducked to miss the one headed for my face, but it got my cheek anyway.

I raised my sword, finally ready to strike. In response, he planted his feet forward, his face tense with rage. I looked into his black eyes and suddenly realized there was nothing beyond that. No humanity, no love, and no soul. Except for his anger, he was completely empty. It was much of the same anger that I had felt for far too long, and it horrified me.

Since the night I was attacked, I had been so angry, so determined that there was no other choice but to destroy the pirates. But if that choice meant I’d become anything like Devlin, I had to find another way to win. It wasn’t that I
couldn’t
strike him. It’s that I
wouldn’t
. I refused to become him.

Wordlessly, I lowered my sword and started to leave. But Devlin grabbed my arm, twisted me around, and yanked me close to him. I stumbled in the sand and bumped roughly against him. Then he said, “That cave had better be full of treasure, because if it’s not, making you a pirate was the worst mistake of my life. You are utterly worthless. I just gave you every opportunity to use that sword, and you didn’t have the courage to try. Not even against an unarmed man.”

With that, he threw me down on the beach and started to walk away. “You weren’t unarmed,” I muttered, standing again.

“Huh?” He turned and saw in my hand a small knife that had been tucked inside his pants at his waist. I’d pulled it out when I bumped against him. Devlin’s face reddened.

“You hoped I’d try something with my sword so you could use this knife against me,” I said, tossing it on the sand near him. “Nice try, but I’m a pirate now. I’m one of you.”

“If you were really a pirate, you’d never have given that back,” Devlin said.

“I want the knife that belongs to me,” I said. “Not this inferior toy you’re using.” And with that I began walking away.

“Sage!” Devlin cried.

I turned in time to see him hurl the knife at me. Instinctively I raised my sword, using the flat side of the blade to deflect the knife away. It shot to the right and landed in a patch of tall grass.

Devlin locked eyes with me and his smile darkened. “So you can use a sword after all. But you won’t yet. What are you saving it for?”

I hesitated for just a moment before I said, “I am better than you, Devlin. And I’m saving this sword until it’s time for everyone else to understand that too.”

He let me leave, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d have to pay for those words.

O
n my way back to the main part of camp, I spied Imogen near a clump of trees. She was kneeling on the ground planting a patch of daisies, and frowned when she looked up and saw me.

“You look upset,” she said. “What happened down there?”

“Time is running out. For both of us.”

She motioned me toward her and I sighed. I’d have preferred to be alone until I’d calmed down, but I never could refuse her requests, and especially not here.

“Someone might see us,” I said, glancing around. There were others in the area, but at least nobody was nearby.

“Come here, then.” I followed her down a small hill to where the trees and slope provided good protection from any casual observation. She pulled a raw potato from a pocket of her apron, and then gestured for me to sit beside her, which I did. “The burn from that branding iron can be painful.”

I made a face. “A potato?”

“Hush. Show me your arm.” I held out the arm that had been branded. Imogen supported the back of my hand and rotated my wrist so she could see the burn better. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. They could break your bones in half and you’d tell me that’s fine too.” Then she let my arm rest in her lap while she cut away some of the peel from the potato.

Imogen next sliced the potato into thin strips and laid them over the burn. Almost instantly, they started to pull the heat from my arm. When she finished laying the strips down, she set the knife and the rest of the potato on the ground. She put one hand under my wrist and the other beneath my elbow, keeping the potato slices balanced.

We sat that way in silence for several minutes. I didn’t want to speak and shatter our delicate peace. I’d either make things worse or finally convince her to leave. And I was ashamed to realize a part of me didn’t want to succeed in making her go. There was a comfort in having someone on my side in this miserable place.

“I saw you and Devlin down on the beach,” she finally said. “He was taunting you.”

“It was a test.”

“You’re still here, so you must have passed.”

“I didn’t. I doubt there’s any way to pass his tests.”

Imogen began adjusting the strips, moving cooler ones onto the burn and dropping the others on the ground. “I thought you were going to fight him. Even from where I stood it was obvious you wanted to.”

“Yes, I did.” I still wanted to, in fact.

“You can’t bring the pirates down, Jaron.”

“I know.”

“Which means our only choice is to escape this place. We can run from here tonight, you and me. There’s no shame in that.”

“Run?” Irritated, I shook the strips off my arm, then stood and picked up my sword. “Tell me why you knew I had another reason for leaving the castle last week. Do you recall that?”

A single tear rolled down Imogen’s cheek before she answered. “It was because you don’t run. Not even when it’s the only logical thing to do.”

“No,” I snapped. “Never.” And I started to walk away.

“Jaron, there’s more.” Before I had turned around, she stood and added, “I overheard Devlin talking. Roden’s coming. He’s expected sometime tomorrow.”

I paused and closed my eyes before speaking. “Does he know about you?”

Imogen shook her head. “I also heard that he volunteered to come to Carthya that night. Not because he cared about the message he was supposed to give you, but because he wanted you to know about him. Don’t you see how personal his attack on you was?”

I understood that very well. Enough to have carried that knowledge like a lead weight in my chest ever since I had last seen him.

I cocked my head. “You were not planning on telling me this?”

“I hoped the pirates would reject you and send you away, or that you’d see the foolishness of what you’re doing and leave before I had to tell you.” Forgetting the risk of anyone seeing us, she stepped closer to me. “Don’t you see? He’ll know it’s you as soon as he hears the name Sage. Of any name you might’ve chosen here, couldn’t you at least have thought that through better? Given yourself a name that wouldn’t call him to you?”

I lowered my eyes and Imogen drew in a stilted breath. “Oh,” she whispered. “That was the plan. You want him to find you. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

I sighed. “You’re not.”

That made her angry. “Do you forget he nearly killed you last week? And now you’ve left the safety of your walls and your armies and your friends, and come here alone? How does that make anything better? Don’t you know what you’re up against?”

I locked my jaw forward and stared away from her, but she wasn’t finished. “I know you’re strong and you can handle a weapon, but they say that Roden hasn’t set down his sword for a minute since the night you were crowned. And when he returns, it won’t only be him you’ll have to fight. It’s all of the pirates. They’ll be on his side and there’s no chance you can win against all of them. None.” She cupped her hands around my face so that I had to look at her. “Please. You’ve got to accept what I’m saying. No matter how angry you are at the pirates, or at Roden, you will lose here tomorrow.”

“You have so little faith in me?”

“Faith cannot save a person from reality.” Tears filled her eyes as she added, “I know it’s not in you to run. At any other time I’d admire that. But just this once, you must. Do it for me. Stay alive for me.”

“Is that really who you want me to be? A person who cowers for the rest of my life, like some helpless prey?”

“I want you to be a person who chooses to live! That’s what I care about, that you live! And if we return to Carthya by morning, you can prepare your armies against an attack from the pirates.”

“Yes, and the vote for a steward is the day after that! I’ll have no control over those armies.” Gregor would have little trouble persuading the regents to make him the steward. Under our present threat of war, the regents would do anything he wanted, blindly following his commands.

I stumbled, suddenly dizzy, and aware of my heart pounding against the wall of my chest.

It’s time I learned who is in command.
That had been Roden’s message. As much as the Avenian king wanted my land, or the pirates wanted my wealth, they had no control over me . . . yet. But there was someone within reach of my power.

Ask the right questions.
Conner told me that. From nearly the moment after I left Conner’s dungeon, something had bothered me about our conversation. But for as often as I’d run his words over in my mind, I hadn’t known what questions I should be asking. Now I did.

Imogen touched my arm. “Jaron, are you all right?”

“No,” I croaked. As if the threat stood right in front of me, my hand locked on to my sword. In that moment, I knew what I had missed in Conner’s dungeon.

And I sank to my knees.

When I’d asked Conner where he had gotten the dervanis oil, Gregor had put his hand on his sword.

“Why would he do that?” I mumbled. “It was only a question. Why would Gregor reach for his sword?”

Imogen shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

Mott had told me that a month before my family’s deaths, my father had become suspicious of the regents and begun requiring them to be searched before they entered the castle walls. Yet Conner got in with the vial of dervanis oil from the pirates.

Ask the right questions.

The question wasn’t where he got the poison. It was how he got inside the castle with it.

Conner had needed help to kill my family. There was a second traitor in my castle.

Conner might not even have realized he had help. The pirates could have easily coordinated with someone else to let Conner pass through.

Only one man would have the authority to allow a regent to enter the castle without being searched. It was the same man who would have allowed the king of Avenia to enter my gates without identifying his attendants as pirates.

Gregor had reached for his sword in the dungeon because in that moment, he thought I knew he was the second traitor. He had expected to need his sword. Against me.

Gregor had known I would be attacked in the gardens. He knew Roden’s message was intended to frighten me into submission, and it allowed Gregor to make a case to the regents that I needed a steward.

And wherever Gregor wanted to send me into hiding, I was willing to wager the pirates knew about that place too.

The pirates didn’t care about killing Conner. His connection to them was already exposed. But Gregor needed him dead, to protect his own involvement in my family’s murders.

In two days, Gregor would have himself declared steward over Carthya. And all that stood between him and success was Tobias, who was, at that moment, pretending to be me. Tobias was in grave danger. And what of Amarinda, who’d be caught in the middle of them both?

I glanced up at Imogen, who looked half-panicked by then. “What’s happening?” she asked.

After standing again, I said, “It’s time to go. Meet me in the stables tonight. One hour after the last light goes out in the camp.”

“Vigils guard the camp.”

“Can you avoid them?”

“Yes.” Imogen paused a moment, then wiped a fallen tear off her cheek. “Thank you, Jaron.”

I nodded back at her and then closed my eyes, trying to piece together everything that would have to happen next. When I opened them again, Imogen was gone.