The Lion of the Sea (The Maiden Ship Book 2) Page 2

  Dain held her gaze—barely. “I know.”

  “I’ve never pushed, I know how you feel about your mother, but honestly, how long can you keep this up?” She watched Dain’s jaw tense and instinctively stepped back. It seemed she was always backing down from him lately, and interceding for him with the others. Her tone was softer when she spoke again. “I’m not suggesting you need to forgive her, or even become friends. There’s more to it than that. This isn’t about you, or her, it’s about all of us. Alis Alloway is an ally, and she has a treasure trove of knowledge stored in that curly, blonde head of hers—we need her.”

  Dain leaned against the hallway wall. “I’m sure Tars and Toff are doing a fine job of gleaning any information we need.”

  Sable’s eyes rolled against her will. “I’m sure they are doing a fine job of gleaning what they deem we need, but that might not be what you need. And isn’t forming alliances and being informed the captain’s job?”

  He opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again like a fish out of water. She knew he had no argument against her logic, and from the expression in his eyes, it seemed, for a moment, that he might listen. Instead he changed the subject. “Let’s talk about other things. Perhaps, since we’re alone now, I can work on earning my place as the lion in your heart?” Dain edged closer to her.

  Sable’s lips pursed, but only briefly before her body relaxed toward him. She really had no will of her own where Dain was concerned. Every time he was near, her mind turned to mush, her knees went weak, and all she wanted to do was be with him—to please him. She’d even given up hopes of learning aboard The Wildflower for fear of making him unhappy. Oh, there were some warning bells going off in her mind about all these uncharacteristic choices, but the minute he wrapped his arms around her, nothing else seemed to matter. And now, as he pulled her tight against his body, she could barely breathe, let alone worry about her behavior. His fingers stroked her spine as he bent to kiss the nape of her neck, and if Sable’s mind had been mush before, it was a puddle now. At least she managed one last word before his mouth traveled up to claim her own. “Think about what I said, Dain—it’s important.”

  When they finally reached the galley, Sable’s lips were sweetly swollen, but her breath returned fast as she set upon their dinner task with vigor. It wasn’t a large kitchen, especially for a ship the size of The Maiden, so whenever Dain was there to help, she found him mostly trying to stay out of her way. His cooking skills left a lot to be desired, but, she supposed, after being raised in a mansion full of servants for the first half of his life and spending the remaining years as the captain’s son aboard The Maiden, there’d been little call for him to learn. She, on the other hand, had grown up on the road with her brother, and they’d spent their life hiding and evading stalkers. As a result, she’d learned all the basic life skills from a very young age. It hadn’t been an easy journey, but Tars had made sure it was a loving one.

  Now, this didn’t mean Dain wasn’t eager to learn or help. His fumbled attempts were quite endearing, but more often than not, he got underfoot. Thankfully, she found that stirring was something he could do, and he now tackled the large pot she gave him with gusto. “Sable?”

  Like always, she hummed while she worked, but she easily turned her song into a question before continuing seamlessly on. “Hmmm?”

  “The dream I shared with you, the one about Elden and being trapped in a body of stone with the singing woman? Well, I’m having it every night now, and last night it changed—it was almost like Elden was becoming flesh again, or something like that. Do you think that the repetition of these dreams is significant?”

  Sable paused mid-melody, dropping her task to fiddle with the golden pendant around her neck. She noticed she’d taken to fingering the Dernamn more now that she wore it openly, though she had no idea why—it was just soothing, somehow. She fiddled with it faster while she spoke. “I think I remember translating something about that last night. Repetitious dreams. I didn’t get to finish it, though, so we’ll have to look into it later tonight.”

  It wasn’t long before dinner was neatly stacked on a large serving tray. Sable couldn’t help feeling a twinge of pride over the appetizing heap, and just as Dain reached for a sample, she shifted it all away. His eyes went wide, and she gave him a mischievous grin. “That should give them a start in the dining room, shouldn’t it?”

  Dain laughed. “I wish I was there to see their faces.” He moved closer to her. “You’re getting far too good at this adjuration thing. I didn’t even see a slight warp or shift in the air. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day you’re moving entire kingdoms with the wave of a finger.”

  Sable raised a coy shoulder. “Well, every girl needs a skill.”

  He snatched her up in his arms, twirling her once around before carrying her out into the hall. “And you have ten times more than most.”

  She nestled her head into his chest, breathing deep. His scent always reminded her of the fresh, rain-soaked air after a storm. When he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, she breathed deeper still and snuggled in more. He’d grown so confident with her physically, no longer bashful about holding her or kissing her, and yet Sable still didn’t really know how he felt. Despite all his attentions, he’d never expressed any feelings for her besides saying she felt like home. And while it was all good and lovely to be someone’s home, what did that mean exactly? Was she just a comfort to him in troubled times—somewhere warm, a safe place to reside? She’d thought about asking him, and thought about expressing her own feelings too, but she was afraid of putting him on the spot. She didn’t want to force a profession in return. No one wants to hear ‘I love you’ when the other person doesn’t really mean it. It’d be like spending a fortune on a fleet of ships, only to later learn they all leaked.

  As they drew near the dining room, Sable could hear that Mo and Toff had been joined by Casper, and it sounded like they hadn’t waited on ceremony. Glasses clinked, knives scraped, and laughter reigned. Nothing brought people together like food.

  That was it! A dinner—an intimate dinner. What better way to talk everything through with Dain than over food? She’d plan something in the next few days.

  3

  An hour before the others, Dain had excused himself to sit at his familiar perch on the bowsprit. The fog was still thick, making Aalta and the harbor near-invisible through the blanket of white. The rain had mercifully ceased, yet even with that, the dampness of winter burrowed into his bones. Wrapped tightly in his oiled cloak, he talked in spurts to the wooden figurehead fixed upon the prow—his friend, Ileana.

  It’d become his habit since he’d discovered that the statue was in fact the lost princess of Derchar. She’d spent more than two centuries trapped in a prison of oak, separated from the one she loved, and Dain could only imagine how lonely and maddening her life must be. But tonight, when the three moons were full, she’d take on flesh again for the entire evening. In fact, that was the very reason for the gathering—it was time for everyone to meet her.

  Dain heard a rustle of activity on deck, prompting him to head down from his roost for the foremast rail. Toff limped across the main deck behind Sable, Casper, and Mo. The old sailor’s voice grated like an iron brig door. “Thank Orthane the blasted rain has stopped for one merciful moment.”

  “It’s a mercy, but no less cold I’m afraid,” Dain called down.

  The old man grumbled in agreement, hugging his arms to himself.

  Mo looked like he was about to concur on the weather when a call sounded from the sea below.

  “Hi ho! Captain Alis Alloway of The Wildflower requests permission to board The Maiden?”

  Dain descended the stairs to the main deck, eyes fixed on the port side, his voice a tight whisper. “What is she doing here?”

  Sable was by his side instantly, hand on his arm, a gentle reassurance as a head of bright copper curls popped up over the ship’s edge. Mo moved to aid the redhead, pulling her easily u
p with one enormous arm. Nodding in thanks, Lydia swiped at her skirts, readjusted the belt above her generous hips, and looked directly at Dain. “She’s here by my request.” Her tone was not unkind, but neither was it arguable.

  Dain was a grown man, the captain of The Maiden even, but that eternal touch of reverent childhood fear still held sway as he appraised his former nurse. Lydia had arrived at Alloway Manor at the young age of fifteen to become his full-time caregiver, and eighteen years later he’d grown to understand that, much like Morgan Crouse had been his father in all the ways that mattered, Lydia had been his mother. He expected further reprimand, but instead she made her way toward him, arms stretched wide. Dain braced himself for a crushing hug.

  Sable gave his arm a small, comforting squeeze before stepping back to let Lydia embrace him. He didn’t bother to resist these hugs anymore. As a boy, he’d often tried to escape them, but now he endured her affection with loving patience.

  Nearly a head shorter, with her face crushed into his chest, Lydia said, “Do this for me, my boy. I know where you stand with her, so don’t read me wrong, I’ve just been praying and I’m feeling this tonight.”

  Dain looked down. Lydia’s fiery curls flared brighter as Casper set about lighting the ship’s lanterns. The moons would be up soon—he’d need to make a decision, and for some reason the woman’s words resonated. Perhaps he’d been thinking too much on magic and gods. He’d even been sending up the occasional prayer himself. Maybe, for tonight, just this once… He pulled his former nurse out to arm’s length as he answered softly, “Very well. Tonight only. And for you, not her.”

  Lydia nodded firmly, as though she had expected nothing else. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Dain saw Mo and Toff grinning like fools. Blackguards.

  Heading to the port side, Mo rang out with his deep velvet voice, “Permission granted.”

  Dain faced the rope ladder, hands curling tight as he steeled himself.

  Sable must have seen the strain in his body, because she returned to his side again, looping her arm tenderly through his own.

  Tars topped the ladder first, then quickly reached down to assist The Wildflower’s first mate, Anira Alasternia-Grain. The young woman’s shining black hair swayed in the foggy night air, and Dain caught a glimpse of her pointed ears through the waves. He couldn’t help staring at her Iandiorian features—her slanted ebony eyes, her flawless umber skin. She was a rare sight, her people not often welcome outside Iandior’s borders. Most of the kingdoms, even the more liberal Zaal, considered her kind to be savage. Still, despite what Dain had been raised to believe about Iandiorians, he shook internally over the fact that she’d been indentured for years to that wretch, Oswart Dulge. It had been weeks since he’d thought about Dulge, the mercenary thug who’d been hired to hunt them along with the stalkers. If Dain ever got the chance to exact revenge on the man who’d threatened his family and defiled his childhood home, he wouldn’t hesitate. He wondered if Anira might feel the same.

  He felt Sable give him a firm nudge. Had he been staring? Glancing down at the girl he loved, Dain noticed a small bit of tension set in her jaw. Was she jealous? The thought thrilled him a little. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her cheek quickly, and then watched her jawline ease. He loved her so much—maybe later tonight he’d pluck up the courage to tell her.

  When he turned his attention back to the port side, he saw Tars lifting the eery albino child, Anira’s interpreter, up over the edge as well. Dain averted his gaze, unable to bring himself to look the girl in the eye. His last encounter with Leara An had left him with an uneasy impression. So he searched past Tars and the child, trying to catch a glimpse of Anira’s peacoline, but it didn’t follow. He’d hoped for the distraction of the half-peacock, half-panther-like creature; it would’ve taken his mind off his mother. Instead, the gray-blonde crown surfaced, and Captain Alis Alloway lifted herself, with ease, onto the deck of The Maiden. Once standing, she somehow managed to make herself look tall despite her petite stature, and by the set of her brow, there was no doubting she was a force of nature.

  Mo, however, towered over The Wildflower’s captain as he moved to greet her. “Welcome aboard, Captain Alloway.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Crouse. Honored to be here—it’s been a long time.” Alis’s voice was strong, another contrast to her stature, but her tone matched the intensity of her stormy gray eyes, and it chafed Dain to admit how much he looked like her.

  He started to move forward, Sable preparing to move with him, but then he stopped, managing only a curt nod. “Captain.”

  Alis’s face softened, an expression Dain guessed was rare for her. She said, “Thank you for your permission to board, Captain Alloway. I’m eager to learn more about—”

  Dain interrupted her with an abrupt wave of his hand, indicating Lydia as he said, “I don’t deserve your thanks. Please extend your gratitude to my former nurse. She’s the only reason you’re here.” He felt Sable stiffen at his side, but he tried to ignore the response, instead pulling her toward her brother. When they reached Tars, Dain grasped his friend’s arm in greeting before offering him Sable’s hand. Tars stood as stoic as ever, but hugged his sister close against him when he thought no one was looking. They’d been through so much, these siblings, and Dain couldn’t help wondering how much more they had yet to face. How much they all did.

  Leaving Sable with her brother, Dain made for the prow, stopping at the base of the steps to make an announcement. “I’ve invited you all here to meet someone very special, someone whose knowledge and history places our plight, and our mission, into a far broader scope—”

  Dain didn’t get to finish his speech, because moonslight sliced through the thick blanket of fog, and the dark crimson skies became visible behind the orbs as they glowed to life. They lit up the heavily embroidered hem of forest green and gold, the princess materializing beneath the moons. The oaken figurehead from the prow was standing before them, in the flesh, in an instant. Dain’s chest hitched when he looked at her. It was always the same, always impossible not to be moved by her beauty. She stood with graceful command, taller than most women, azure eyes glistening in the lantern light as her dark auburn hair cascaded in waves behind her. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the awe on every face present. He was not alone in his admiration.

  Dain climbed the steps, taking Ileana’s arm in his own as he escorted her down the stairs toward the gathering. When they stood in front of the group, he made his voice as formal as possible. “May I introduce to you all Ileana Multora, heir to the throne of Derchar—The Lost Princess.”

  No one moved; no one spoke. Dain knew they were all contemplating her features, and the impossibility of her existence. Her likeness in portraits had, for over two centuries, been hung in museums, inns, libraries, and private collections throughout the four kingdoms. Derived from the long-ago annals of history, everyone knew the tale, had heard it as a child. It was a bedtime story, passed down from generation to generation, different versions adding different endings, but the beginning was always the same: an heir stolen from a queen, a queen who, in turn, left her kingdom at the mercy of a tyrant to search across twenty years for her lost princess.

  It was Ileana who spoke first, the lilt of her voice casting an even heavier spell. “I am honored to meet you all.”

  Dain decided that individual introductions might better ease the wonder, so taking Ileana’s hand, he led her before Mo and Lydia. The first mate had long lived aboard The Maiden, probably never dreaming that the figurehead of his ship might be a real-life princess. He of all people deserved the first introduction. Before Dain could speak, Ileana offered a hand to both of his beloved caregivers. She was as tall as Dain himself, but Mo still towered over her, looking down. The enormous man instantly accepted her hand, his long dreadlocks falling over his shoulders as he bowed low at the waist.

  Lydia followed suit, but her bow wasn’t nearly so reverent. Ileana must have noticed, because she turned to speak w
ith the former nurse first. “Lydia Romailo, I’ve heard so much about you. Ever since the day Dain boarded this ship, he has spoken of you with great fondness. You have indeed molded and nurtured our captain into a fine young man. He owes you much for that upbringing.”

  Dain watched Lydia’s posture relax—a little. It seemed Ileana knew exactly how to conquer any heart, and to his gratification he also noted that Alis Alloway’s form was stiffening up at the words. Bright carrot curls bounced as Lydia smiled up at the princess knowingly. “Your majesty has a way with words.”

  “Ah, but every one is true, and you know it.” Ileana smiled warmly at Lydia before turning her attention to Mo. “Mr. Crouse, you have been a light through many a dark day of my imprisonment. Your wisdom, experience, honor, and dignity of person are to be greatly commended. If my kingdom were intact, I would be mad not to offer you a position as royal advisor to the throne. Perhaps that day may yet come, and if it does, I will not hesitate.”

  Mo’s still-bent form tensed, but he did raise his charcoal eyes to meet her gaze. “Ye flatter me, yer majesty. If such a day arrives, I’d be honored by yer request, but as fair warning, the sea has been my home forever—I’d loathe to part from her.”

  Ileana’s laughter rang out like the tower bells during summer solstice. “I expected nothing less.”

  Dain led her next to Toff. The old sailor quickly pulled his red toque from his head as he licked his fingers and attempted to smooth down his wild white beard. The princess reached out toward the top of his head, but the old man stepped out of her way in a blink. Even with an injured ankle, he was fast. Then he looked abashed. “Apologies, Princess—old habits, you know…”

  “I only wished to ease your pain. May I?”