The Runaway King (17 page)

F
ink was already seated when I came to dinner that night. Erick sat across the table and several men down, but Fink scooted aside to make room for me. However, after an unenthusiastic hello, he pushed his bowl forward and laid his head on his hands.

“Sleepy?” I asked. “Didn’t get your afternoon nap?”

“Hush.” Fink’s irritable tone took me by surprise. I thought we had firmly established as a rule of our friendship that I was the cranky one.

“Sit up or they’ll ladle stew onto your head.” He glared at me but obeyed. Then I asked, “What’s the matter?”

Fink snuck a look around to see whether any of the nearby pirates were listening. As if their top priority was eavesdropping on a kid too young to even be considered for piracy. Then he leaned in to me and whispered, “I want to go home.”

“What home? Back to the thieves?”

“Maybe. I don’t like it here.”

“Erick’s staying,” I said. “I doubt he’ll ever go back.”

“I know.” Then he shrugged. “What about you?”

If I didn’t go home, Tobias’s deception would be revealed. Gregor would exact his revenge upon Tobias, and likely solidify his hold on both Amarinda and my kingdom before I could return and expose him. But if I left now, the pirates would bring war to Carthya and destroy everything.

“I don’t know what I should do,” I mumbled.

We fell silent as Serena, the dark-headed girl who had served me at other meals, came by to ladle food into our bowls. She put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “You need a little extra. You’re too thin.”

I smiled back at her and appreciated the additional serving. Even though I wasn’t particularly hungry, I planned to eat the entire bowl. I’d begun to notice the same thing about myself lately.

“Look at that.” Fink pointed down the tables to Imogen, whose eyes narrowed as she stared at Serena. “I don’t think she hates you after all. I think she’s mad that the other girl just gave you extra. She’s jealous.”

I met Imogen’s eye and subtly shook my head at her. She got the message and turned away from me.

From his place at another table, Devlin stood and his voice boomed, “I’m in the mood for some entertainment. We should have a sword match.”

Everyone fell silent. Nobody considered standing at the other end of Devlin’s sword as entertainment. Devlin withdrew his blade and began randomly pointing it at one man and then another. “Should I fight you? Or you?” My focus went to the bowl in front of me and my jaw tightened. Devlin continued, “Come now, are there no volunteers? No one who thinks he’s better than me?” Then his eyes landed upon me like the glare of the sun. “Sage, you will fight.”

It was not a request and there was no choice I could make and win. Either I lost my life to Devlin, or to his men after I defeated him. My stomach churned.

“Can we at least eat while the stew is warm?” I asked.

“I’ve eaten already, and the supper won’t matter to you.” Because I wouldn’t live long enough to digest it.

I took another bite anyway. Devlin continued watching me as he left his place at the table and began walking in my direction. Finally, I forced myself to stand. The only thing I knew for certain was that one way or another, I was going to lose.

Then Devlin cried out in a rage, and for the first time I looked up. There was stew spilled down his front, gravy dripping off his right arm and chest.

“Forgive me, sir. I didn’t see you coming.” Imogen bowed low before Devlin, the empty pot of stew clutched in her hands.

“Clumsy servant girl!” Devlin raised a hand to strike her, and slowly lowered it. He glared at her, then at me, then cursed and stomped away.

I retreated back to the seat, though my hand was gripped so firmly around my sword it took a conscious effort to release it and reach again for my spoon. With the silent help of the other girls, Imogen collected what she could of the mess she had made, and hurried away. Low murmurs rumbled amongst the men, but no one wanted his voice to stand out. Across from me, Fink sat nearly frozen.

“Fink,” I hissed. “Eat.”

“He would’ve killed you just now.”

“Eat.”

But he only pushed his bowl away and leaned his head back on the table. I finally settled a debate inside my head that I’d been struggling with all evening. I dipped my spoon into my bowl and whispered, “One hour after the last light goes out tonight, meet me in the stables.”

“Why?”

“Just be there. And make sure nobody follows you.”

Fink was already gone when I got up about a half hour after lights-out. He’d made an excuse over an hour ago to visit the outhouse and never returned. Nobody had noticed.

I rose silently, then tousled the blanket so that it would appear I was still in my cot. If the devils were merciful tonight, nobody else in this room was awake. Especially not the person whose cot I was tiptoeing toward.

Erick was sleeping near the far end of the hut, in an unfavorable location where the cool sea breeze would first flow through. Because of that, he was bundled up tightly in his blanket, his head partially buried.

Every pirate had the area beneath his cot to use for personal storage. Most of the men had trunks or crates for their things. However, since he was so new here, Erick had very few things and had only set below the cot whatever he wasn’t comfortable sleeping with. His boots were there, and the sheath for his sword, which was empty. I guessed he was probably sleeping with his sword — most of the men did. I softly patted the ground until I found the item I wanted.

I picked up Harlowe’s pocket watch, holding it tightly to diminish the constant sound of its ticking, and tucked it into my shirt. With silent movements, I then slipped out of the hut. The skies were dark and cloudy, which was a gift in that it allowed me to hide from any pirates who kept nighttime vigils. I made my way to the hut where Devlin slept and stood outside for a minute or two while I decided what to do. I could tell from here that I wouldn’t be blessed with sneaking into the room of a snorer, as I had been with Conner. Devlin was likely to be a light sleeper, and somehow in the pitch blackness of his room, I would have only a few minutes to find my knife. It wasn’t a good idea.

Still, I really wanted that knife. Or rather, I didn’t want Devlin to have it.

I inched his door open, but only had one foot inside his hut before I stepped out again. Someone else was nearby. I swung around, hearing the soft crunch of sand behind me. Imogen stepped from the shadows with a finger pressed to her lips.

She put her mouth next to my ear and whispered, “What are you doing?”

“You need a weapon,” I replied. “Just in case.”

“You’ll be there to protect me. Besides, I have this.” Then she leaned away from me and withdrew a kitchen knife from her pocket.

I nodded in approval, but looked back at Devlin’s door. “Wait for me.” I started forward, but Imogen touched my arm and shook her head.

“No, Jaron,” she said. “Please, let’s just leave.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but she was right. It was foolish to risk so much by going in there. Imogen walked forward, urging me away with her. Finally, I gave in and followed. Keeping to the shadows, we hurried toward the stables.

“Do you know how many vigils keep watch overnight?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. All I can tell you is that one passes near our quarters every ten minutes or so.”

That had been my experience when I’d helped the sailor escape. It wasn’t much time.

We crouched behind some bushes near the stables. A vigil was walking through the center of them, looking in on the horses.

“We’ll have to hurry once he leaves.” I withdrew Harlowe’s pocket watch from my shirt and pressed it into her hand.

“What’s this?” she asked. Even after she recognized the object she still shook her head.

“Hide it,” I whispered. “It’s very important.”

She angled away from me and when she turned back, the pocket watch was no longer in her hand. “Why —” she began, but I shushed her as the vigil left the gate and limped toward us. As he got nearer, I realized it was the same curly-haired boy who Devlin had beat with the switch yesterday. Mrs. Turbeldy had used a switch on me once at the orphanage, and I recognized the pained way he walked.

I held out my hand for Imogen’s knife, but before she gave it to me, the boy stopped very near us. “Whoever’s hiding there, come out,” he said.

I put a hand on Imogen’s shoulder, holding her down as I stood. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen us both. He held a sword in one hand, and the tip was aimed low. This boy wasn’t a swordsman.

He stepped even closer to me. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t ask about that.”

“There’s someone else with you.”

“I’d especially prefer if you didn’t ask me that.”

“Stand up,” the boy ordered.

Slowly, Imogen stood. I noticed she’d pulled her braid loose, obviously suggesting that we had snuck out here for romantic reasons.

The boy shook his head. “Nobody touches the girls. It’s part of the code.”

“Let it pass this once, will you?” He didn’t look convinced so I added, “We all make mistakes with the code. Maybe it’s girls. Maybe it’s failing to tie a prisoner’s knots correctly.”

His face fell. He obviously didn’t like being reminded that my intervention had saved him from a worse beating.

“I didn’t see you here,” he finally said. “But I’m not the only vigil so you’d better leave soon.”

“That’s definitely the plan,” I said.

Once he was gone, Imogen and I ran into the stables. Mystic was housed in a center stall, and with Imogen’s help, two minutes later he was saddled and ready to ride.

“Someone else is here,” she said, backing into the shadows.

I glanced up and saw Fink hop into the stables from the top of the fence. “It’s all right,” I said, motioning Imogen forward. “He’s leaving too.”

“It was harder than I thought to get here,” Fink said. “Sorry I’m late.” He stopped briefly when he saw Imogen. “What’s she doing here? I thought she hates you.”

If she didn’t now, she soon would. I helped Imogen onto Mystic’s back, and then gestured for Fink to move closer.

“We can’t take your horse,” Fink said.

“I’ll bet Mystic that you can,” I said. “He’s your horse now.”

“Then we’ll need a second horse for you,” Imogen said, looking around.

“No.” I shook my head firmly. “We don’t.”

“Mystic won’t carry the three of us.” Then Imogen’s hopeful expression deflated. “Oh no. No! That’s why you gave me the watch.”

“It’s for a noble in Libeth named Rulon Harlowe. Make sure he gets it.”

“We agreed not to stay here,” she said. “Please don’t play these games.”

My expression hardened, making it clear that this was no game. Then I handed her a letter, explaining the details of Gregor’s deception. “You must place this in Mott’s hand and no one else’s. Destroy it if there is the risk of anyone else touching it. I won’t be far behind.”

“No, you must come with us,” Imogen said, clutching the note.

I opened my hand, revealing the knife she had brought from the kitchens. She double-checked the pocket of her skirt where she had left it, despite the fact it was obviously not there. “Will you promise to leave now, or shall I give this to Fink, who will make sure you leave?”

Imogen pressed her lips together and stared forward. I handed Fink the rope Devlin had used to tie me up. “Tie her to you if necessary, but she does not leave your side until you’re both safe and far from this place.” Then I handed Fink the knife.

When Imogen did speak, the words were clipped and angry. “I planted the flowers for you, but they’re already dying. You know why? Because they’re in bad soil. They don’t belong here and neither do you. Go look at them and you’ll see your own future.”

Maybe that was my future, but I was finished arguing with her. I only led Mystic forward, saying, “Mott is at the church in Dichell. Fink, you must get her there. I want all three of you to get out of Avenia.”

“What about you?” Imogen asked.

“If I leave, I’ll meet you in Drylliad.”

“What do you mean
if
?”

I frowned at her, then slapped Mystic’s backside. Imogen turned back to look at me and said, “Jaron, please.” But they were already leaving.