The Lion of the Sea (The Maiden Ship Book 2) Read online

  22

  Apparently, Lydia didn’t want traditional songs played during her wedding. She wanted Tars to compose new pieces—music, she said, that no one would forget. She also wanted flowers, and lots of them. If Sable had still been there, this would not have been a problem, but at sea, flowers were not easily accessible. On top of all of that, Lydia was also insisting that formal wear be required. Now given the fact that the ship consisted of mostly weather-worn sailors, good clothes were not something many had on hand.

  Toff raged over her demands, but Dain figured the old sailor just didn’t want to wear a cravat again. Mo tried, and failed, to reason with his bride-to-be, and even Casper, who could charm the crown off a king, hadn’t been successful. In the end, they all turned to Dain, pleading with him to talk to his former nurse.

  The moons would be full in less than a week, and the wedding was scheduled for the night Ileana took on flesh—time was of the essence. Dain was loath to confront Lydia, not only because his reverent childhood respect remained well intact, but also because Leara An might just be there too. He took a deep breath as he poised his fist to knock on Lydia’s cabin door. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  The door swung open before he made contact.

  Lydia stood on the threshold, her lips pursed like she was expecting him. “Close your mouth. I heard you coming, and I figured it wouldn’t be long before they sent you.” She motioned him in.

  Dain took in her small cabin for the first time, slowly releasing his tensed fists. Leara An was nowhere in sight and Lydia’s room actually felt—well, like a warm hug. There was soft purple bedding on the bunk, cream-colored curtains hanging above that, and a collection of miniature bird paintings arranged over the walls. Dain touched the edge of one of the frames—Lydia had always loved birds. The room didn’t even smell like the sea; it smelled like lavender and clean linens, and it reminded him of his childhood in Alloway Manor. However, it was the stout wardrobe bolted to the floor in the corner that made his eyes linger longest, because hanging over the front panels was a pale amethyst gown. The neckline was low, fashionably trimmed in a silver, floral embroidery that repeated along the hem and sleeves. The dress shimmered in the afternoon sunlight filtering through the porthole—the garment was truly a work of art.

  “I made it myself.”

  His former nurse’s tone was so matter-of-fact that Dain couldn’t help smiling. He remembered her seamstress skills being praised by the Alloway Manor staff when he was a boy, but, back then, he’d had little appreciation for such things. Children rarely see past their own needs or concerns, let alone grasp the skills and gifts of the adults around them. Dain walked toward the dress, fingering the soft fabric. “It’s stunning. You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

  Lydia huffed.

  He turned back to see her teetering on the edge of her bunk, head in hands. Dain eased himself beside her as she said, “It’s a terrible time to get married, isn’t it? I’ve given so many years to Alloway Manor, and now when I finally have the chance for a life of my own, it’s under the worst possible circumstances.”

  Apparently some of Mo’s inherent wisdom was rubbing off, because instead of quoting his mentor, Dain actually found his own words this time. “I’m starting to think there isn’t a right time for anything, Lydia. Life is just so—uncertain. At any moment, the people we love can be taken from us.” His throat thickened, hit hard by his own words. “Perhaps we need to stop waiting to tell people that we love them. Perhaps the present, no matter how messy, is the perfect time to live.”

  Lydia scrubbed at her face, making her ever-rosy cheeks even more so. “When did you go getting so wise?”

  Dain swallowed, then lifted his eyebrows and laughed. “Well, I’ve had great mentors.”

  “You told her what?” Old Toff nearly tore his spectacles off his face, rubbing them with fervor on his less-than-clean tunic.

  Dain repeated himself. “I told her that we’re going to give her everything she wants.”

  “That’s ridiculous. How do you plan to get flowers in the middle of the ocean?” Toff roughly pushed his glasses onto his nose again.

  “She’s made some concessions.” Dain turned to the rest of the group gathered in the dining room. Mo’s expression looked hopeful—the first mate obviously wanted to give Lydia the world. Tars and Casper looked the same as always; the musician stoic, the handsome sailor bemused. Jord, on the other hand, who’d been added to this planning session for a special purpose, stood somewhat apart, habitually wringing his cap again. Obviously the newest addition to The Maiden’s crew still didn’t feel entirely at ease with his shipmates. Dain addressed him first. “How do you feel about becoming a florist, sailor?”

  The man’s stubbly round chin dropped. “I—well—”

  Dain grinned. “I’ve seen what you can do with water, Jord, and I’ve watched you mold it into dozens of different shapes. Do you think you could manage flowers? Lydia needs flowers.”

  The man’s wide face broke into a gratified grin. “I can certainly manage water flowers, Captain.”

  The first mate reached over to give Jord a hearty smack of thanks on the shoulder. The sailor looked bashful at first, then smiled wide as he replaced his wrinkled cap to his head.

  Toff snorted.

  Dain ignored him, facing Tars. “One song—all we need is one new wedding song. Then you can play anything else you like, and I’m sure Trait will join you. Can you manage that, brother?” A smile glinted in the musician’s hazel eyes. It didn’t reach his mouth, but he gave Dain a solid nod.

  Casper puffed up his chest with mock importance when Dain turned to him and Toff. “You two will be in charge of the crew. We’ll have the moons and the stars on display, but I want this ship spotless and I want it lit up nicely.” Dain paused for effect. “Plus, everyone will be wearing cravats, so pull out your least-soiled clothes to go along with it. Lydia happens to be working on a tie for every member of the crew as we speak.”

  Toff opened his mouth to protest, but Casper cut him off, waving an arm through the air with flourish. “I, for one, look amazing in a cravat.”

  Everyone laughed—everyone except Old Toff.

  To say The Maiden looked beautiful would have been an understatement. Jord had taken his florist role to epic proportions, with trailing strands of sea-water flowers floating on every rigging and rail. The translucent blooms glittered in the lantern light, and Dain marveled at how the conjurationist managed to hold the watery petals suspended even after he’d gone below deck. Maybe one day he’d manage to hone his skills enough to create something of this magnitude.

  The evening sea air swirled through his hair, flipping long strands into his face as always. Dain had given up fighting the element; it was just overtly playful by nature. Maybe one day, he’d get a haircut just to spite it though. The thought made him chuckle as he moved toward the prow. Casper and Toff had done well. The decks were spotless, and they’d even added candles to help brighten the lantern-lit scene. When Dain topped the steps, he saluted the helmsman at the stern and surveyed the ship one more time. His chest tightened—Sable would’ve loved this.

  A long shadow stretched out from his toes as the light of the three full moons rose behind him.

  Tep, tep, swish.

  Then Ileana leaned on the balustrade beside him. “It’s beautiful, Captain Alloway. Lydia will be well pleased.”

  “I think so too, Princess.” Dain smiled at the playful formality. It’d been two months since he’d seen Ileana, and her heart-stopping beauty hadn’t dimmed a finger-breadth. Moonslight danced over her glossy auburn hair as her azure eyes twinkled in the lantern light. “Your heart is heavy though, my friend?”

  “Lighter now that you’re here.”

  “I’m always here.”

  Dain smiled. “You know what I mean.”

  Ileana laughed. The sound, like always, made Dain think of the bells on Summer Solstice. It’d been a very long time since he’d celebrate
d the traditional Zaalish holiday, and he was surprised he even remembered the sound. He’d been eight years old when Lydia had taken him to his last festival. She’d bought him an elaborate cat mask, stuffed him with sweet rolls, and made him dance until his feet hurt. During the first half of his childhood, Lydia had been his anchor, and every memory of her from those days was a balm to his soul. Dain was glad, despite all the struggle, that some things had worked out the way they did—especially Lydia living aboard The Maiden.

  The fabric of Ileana’s heavily trimmed gown rustled. “Whenever I used to fret about things done, or undone, Elden would say, ‘Let’s not worry about what’s past or how this will end. Let’s just do what we can with the present, together.”

  Dain nodded, her words reaffirming the very sentiment he’d expressed to Lydia. He took one of Ileana’s hands in his own. “Your Elden sounds almost as wise as our Mo.” Dain’s heart sped up, and his next words came out in a rushed whisper. “Your huntsman is alive, you know.”

  Ileana’s eyes widened, but only barely.

  “I didn’t want to give you false hope, so I didn’t tell you that I’d dreamed of him—that I’ve been in his mind, his body—well, sort of…” Dain trailed off.

  The princess squeezed his hand. “I’m not surprised, or angry. I’ve always believed he’s alive. Perhaps that’s how I’ve stayed sane. But thank you for confirming it. Somehow, I feel like I would’ve known if anything had happened. It’s one of the reasons I sought your help in the first place, so that Elden and I—everyone, including your Sable now—could be free. I’ll never give up on a happy ending.”

  Dain fingered the Dernamn with his free hand. “Hopefully that ending isn’t far off.” The lantern light swayed heavily as a good portion of the crew began to surface on deck. Dain swiveled, shifting Ileana’s hand into the crook of his arm. “Well, shall we enjoy the present then, Princess?”

  The sheer beauty of her smile made his knees wobble. “Lead the way, Captain.”

  23

  Tonight, with Lydia on his arm, Mo practically glowed. And he was handsome in his purple silk cravat and dark dinner jacket. It was the same constrictive coat he’d worn months ago at Alloway Manor, but the first mate didn’t seem to mind. How Lydia had managed to send for the jacket before leaving Aalta was a wonder, but it made Dain think she’d known, even then, that this day was coming. He’d witnessed some affection blooming between them after the manor attack in Aalta, but he’d missed out on the rest of their courtship after being trapped on The Wildflower for so long. Some might have said their romance seemed quick, but Dain figured, at their age, they knew their hearts well enough to make this kind of decision in a shorter timeframe.

  Lydia’s lavender gown swirled, and the swaying lantern light glinted off the watery blooms surrounding her right hand. None of them had expected a bouquet; water was not something you could feasibly hold, but Jord somehow managed to keep the flowers in perfect balance around the bride’s fingers. It was a feat, and a lovely surprise. The couple waited at the aisle entry, the top of Lydia’s curly crown only reaching Mo’s chest as they gazed at each other, smiles brilliant across their faces. Dain tried hard to memorize the moment—his beloved care-givers, his true parents, had never looked happier, and he hoped he could brighten those smiles further with a surprise of his own tonight.

  The music swelled, Tar’s fingers flying over the lute strings as Dev’s flute gracefully kept his pace.

  Mo grabbed Lydia’s free hand, twirling her once before encircling her waist and dancing her, with ease, down the aisle toward Dain. At first the crew encouraged the couple with whistles and loud stomps, but everyone fell silent when Trait’s deep baritone rang out.

  It is the bliss of breathless nights,

  Of hearts a-full, of flying high

  Inside our souls, above the strife

  Heed the call

  The voice of freedom beckons us

  Grown ever strong, a solid trust

  As fear abates, and lives regain

  The truth of love

  Believe in love

  The well of power in us

  Believe—

  Believe in love

  The well of power in us

  We believe—

  Take me where I’ve never been

  Hold my heart, and dance again

  Ignore the storm

  Ignore our plight

  Put everything on hold tonight

  And heed the call

  Heed the call

  Heed…

  Believe in love

  The well of power in us

  Believe—

  Believe in love

  The well of power in us

  We believe—

  Mo and Lydia were breathless, hands still entwined when they reached the top of the aisle. The chorus rang out one last time, and Dain drew a deep breath as he surveyed those gathered. Every crew member, except Leara An and Ileana, wore a handmade cravat. Lydia had worked hard to gather whatever scrap fabric she could find to finish them, and as a result it was a rainbow of colorful ties. Most of the men seemed quite proud of this new addition to their sea-worn wardrobe—except, of course, Old Toff. The man’s bushy brows were drawn together in a hard line as he repeatedly yanked on the tie hidden beneath his beard. Casper stood, rolling his eyes, alongside the old sailor, until he finally gave Toff an exasperated nudge. The Ghost of Aalta bristled visibly, but seemed to take the hint and grew still.

  When the music faded, Casper caught Dain’s eye with a grin, giving him a wink of encouragement. Did Dain look nervous? He squeezed his fists and found his palms slick with sweat. Apparently he was… Granted, he’d never officiated a wedding before, let alone the wedding of the two people he admired most in the four kingdoms. The wind swirled gently as though trying to ease his nerves. It helped—a little. Patting at his tunic pocket, Dain pulled out the small ceremony guide he’d found sitting, gray with dust, on one of his office shelves. Perhaps every ship in the Alloway Trading company kept one on hand? Either way, it’d been a welcome discovery.

  Dain’s gaze returned to the two smiling faces before him.

  Lydia gave him a firm nod of encouragement.

  Mo winked like Casper.

  After another deep breath, Dain smiled and opened the handbook. If his hands had been sweating before they now practically dripped—he should’ve read the book ahead of time. The first section looked as though it were full of long expositions on the duty of marriage and fidelity—none of the words felt right. Dain licked his lips and skimmed to the middle, where he found the ceremonial rites—the actual words he needed to make the marriage official. Then he stuffed his thumb inside to mark the page, and quickly decided to make up the rest. He licked his lips again. “I want everyone here to know that I take full credit for this happy occasion. If it hadn’t been for me, Mo never would’ve met his match.”

  The first mate’s rumbling laughter filled the air as the crew cheered.

  The applause emboldened Dain, and he looked directly at Lydia. “Of course, I don’t think a single soul could resist this strong, beautiful woman.”

  Lydia’s cheeks gave a rare flush, and she waved a finger at Dain. “Oh pish posh, get on with the officiating, my boy.” Her attention turned to Mo. “We’ve waited far too many years to drag this out with pretty words.”

  Dain chuckled, signaling for Jord to dissolve the bouquet of water blooms as he flipped open the book again. He had Lydia and Mo recite the traditional marriage vows each in turn before tying a short length of thin rope firmly between their wrists. It signified their new bond, and they’d wear the tether until morning. Then Dev produced the rings, thin bands of gold that’d been procured for them at the last port. As soon as the bands were in place, Mo advanced, ready to scoop Lydia in his arms, but Dain raised a staying hand. “I know you wanted me to skip the pretty words, but you’ve waited this long, so bear with me a few moments more.” The bride and groom looked at him with wondering eyes. �
��You’ve both been the guiding lights of my life; you raised me with a firm hand when needed, a wise word daily, and a loving heart always. You are the kind of parents every child needs, and the kind of leaders every nation deserves. And while I cannot give you a nation—” Dain spread his arms wide. “I can give you a ship.”

  Lydia’s eyes went wide, and Mo leaned in to whisper. “What are ye doing, lad?”

  Dain looked over Mo’s shoulder toward the crew. “I’d like to not only introduce you to the new Mr. and Mrs. Crouse, but the new captains and co-owners of The Maiden.”

  A wild round of applause ensued as Dain pulled the ship’s deed from inside his tunic and handed it to Mo. He knew Alis Alloway would probably have words with him after all of this, but Dain didn’t care. He only smiled wider as he said, “Now you may kiss your bride.”

  At first it looked like Mo might hesitate, but then, the new co-captain of The Maiden laughed, lifted his wide-eyed wife in his massive arms, and crushed her lips against his own.

  Tars strummed furiously on his lute, Dev followed the crazed tune with his flute, and the crew hooted, stomped, and applauded louder than before. Even Ileana clapped vigorously, though she made it look regal.

  It was hours later, after they’d all danced until their feet throbbed and drank far too much wine, that Lydia and Mo pulled Dain aside.

  Mo’s hand rested heavy on Dain’s shoulder, and he almost seemed sober as he said, “We’ve no words, lad—”

  Lydia cut him off, faced flushed and syllables slightly slurred. “By Orthane, I have words! What’s gotten into that head of yours, Dain Alloway?” She blew air through her puckered lips. “Giving away a ship—who ever heard of such a thing.”

  Dain’s head spun, but he managed a reply. “I own the company. I can give away whatever I want, and there are no two people more deserving. Besides, you two need the captain’s quarters. How did you”—Dain waved a hand up and down to indicate Mo’s size—“plan to sleep together in a single cabin bunk?” Maybe that wasn’t appropriate—it must be the wine.