Kenneth shifted in his seat, and Erinna turned instinctively to the small wooden sculpture that rested on a table near the front door. A hand-carved piece devoted to the Pantheon. The symbols of each major deity were carved into each point of an eight-pointed star. Erinna sent a short prayer to The Reaper, wishing for an easy passing to the Realm Beyond when the Chancellor finally drew his last breath.
There were few left on Tarth who remembered the old faiths. Many were some form of Everdawn worshiper. It was a newer faith by comparison, and hurriedly snuffing out the rest.
Erinna rubbed her temples, turning her attention back to the dancing flames.
In the quiet that followed, there was a softening in her father’s features as he finished the rest of his warm beverage. They both sagged with fatigue.
Exhaustion had made a permanent home in their bones. Running a shipbuilding and repair yard in the heart of an island kingdom was enough to rob anyone of rest. But their shared efforts to save the lives of the less fortunate were a burden that didn’t stop at the docks.
Kenneth finished his tea before crossing to Erinna, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She breathed in his familiar scent, letting her mind wander to the times before such tension. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. The way he used to when she was a child, and Erinna couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m proud of you, mouse.”
The old nickname reached deep into her chest. It had been a while since he’d called her that.
“Love you, Dad.” Erinna tried to return the warmth but couldn’t stop the slow, creeping dread from working its way into the back of her mind.
With a reassuring squeeze to her arm, Kenneth retired to his room, leaving Erinna to watch the flames dull in the small hearth.
When she was sure he was sound asleep, she stole into her parents’ study and shoved a few papers into her bag in preparation for her meeting with Damien the morning following tomorrow. Once the pages were secure in her bag, Erinna cleaned the two empty cups, letting the routine movement work some of the worry from her bones before retiring to bed, praying she wouldn’t wake until morning.
Chapter
Three
It was far too calm for Captain Kane Atwater’s liking. Two months into imprisonment, the guards had finally discovered the most effective means to torture him: boredom.
The best way to punish Kane was to pay him little attention and drown him in mundanity. They moved the most talkative prisoners out of his current cell block, leaving him with a young woman who refused to talk and a corpse of an old man as his neighbors.
Oh well.
Kane paced the small length of his cell, absentmindedly brushing dried blood off the back of his hand. The scar had already started to fade. No matter how deep they cut, he still got more information than they did. Not even that Reformed, the mentalist, could crack Kane’s mental barriers. The poor aberrant was a skeleton of a man with more demons haunting him than Kane had. It was barbaric, really, what they did to those poor souls.
“Fools,” he scoffed.
A bell rang from the Chancellor’s tower, high above the prison.
The old mage was infuriatingly stubborn, the way he clung to life.
With nothing left to do but wait, Kane returned to the sorry excuse he had for a mattress and watched the shadows dance through the bars. Finally, two guards came to his cell. Right on schedule.
“You know the drill,” the woman, Aetna, grumbled before clicking the lock open. The older man behind her kept his sword drawn and his harsh stare fixed on the pirate.
In just a few strides, Aetna was upon him. She grabbed his arms and twisted them painfully behind his back.
Kane struggled just enough to make her complacent in her victory, confident she had the upper hand. The performative scuffle reopened a few of his fresher cuts, but they were hardly something to wince over.
His hands were shackled behind his back. “You certainly know how to entice a man.” He smirked and earned a rough shove in return.
“Move, Atwater,” Aetna commanded flatly.
He could tell the guards were growing tired of their roles. They came and bound him as such, led him to an interrogation room where they got little to no information, only to return him to his cell to repeat the process.
If Kane wasn’t careful, they would begin to suspect that the kidnapping was a ruse. The last thing he needed was for someone to realize he got caught on his own volition.
Damnit, Kane knew he should have taken a finger from the Minor Apprentice. Give the lie more credibility. He was surprised the guards believed the story in the first place.
Captain Kane Atwater had kidnapped the Minor Apprentice, and the esteemed soldiers would stop at nothing to get him back. Well, at least they pretended to stop at nothing.
