And it wasn’t as though she had apologized. She’d thrown it right into his face when she knew it would hurt the most.
“Most of the king’s plots these days are madness,” Segonax muttered beneath his breath, and Lorcan wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard him right. The commander never questioned his king.
“What was that, Seg?”
“Nothing,” the commander said quickly. “You best get ready for your adventure. The hour is growing late. Try not to get yourself killed, eh? We need you.”
Lorcan frowned at that. The last thing the shadow fae needed was a prince who had no control over his own damn actions. Whirling on his feet, he strode back down the corridor, heading to his chambers to prepare for the days ahead.
And brace himself for the inevitable battle that was looming. His battle with Reyna Darragh. He hoped it would not be a bloody one.
12
Eislyn
“We’re fully north of the mouth of the Bay of Wind now, princess.” Vreis stood tall on the deck beside her, the salty air rustling his brunette locks. An amber jewel hung from his neck and swayed with the rock of the boat. “No ships have been spotted in pursuit. We truly may have escaped.”
Eislyn exhaled, a rush of relief. She had been tense from the moment they’d stepped foot on the Stingray, her eyes ever wandering to the western horizon, fearing a sail would be seen fluttering in the distance, bearing the Air Court’s golden crown sigil. It had taken them a full week to sneak north. At first, they had headed east, deep into the Mag Mell Sea and away from Tir Na Nog’s shores.
“I wish we could head to shore now,” she said, yearning for the icy forests of her homeland. She had forgotten how much she missed them.
That first night, Vreis had sat her down at a rickety wooden table below deck with an ancient map stretched out between them. He had explained their strategy for getting her home. Sail east, then north, and then even further north. They would not stop at the villages along the eastern edge of the Hoarfrost Forest. Too close to the Bay of Wind, Vreis had said. Eislyn was inclined to agree with him, as desperate as she was to reach Falias.
The next closest stop would have been the town of Deigh. But the cursed place had been destroyed by the Ruin five years past. No one lived there any longer, and they needed food and supplies when they landed. That left Margaidh far up north. Lord Killian lived there, old friends with her father. From there, it would be a long trek to Falias, but they could get an owl off to Father when they arrived and fill him in on what was happening at the Air Court.
And it would give her a chance to peruse the eastern markets again. Perhaps she could find another book to help her with her quest to end the Ruin.
“The Grand Alderman likely has ships waiting on the coast,” Vreis said. “We would be ambushed.”
She sighed. “I know. It doesn’t stop me from wishing.”
Vreis smiled. “You seem more at ease now, Your Highness. I’m glad to see.”
“You know you don’t need to call me that. You may call me Eislyn.” Ever the honorable warrior and guard, Vreis had not once uttered her name since they had stepped on board.
He arched a brow. “I don’t know any such thing. Most courtiers insist upon their titles, particularly princesses, kings, and queens.”
“You spent all of your money to get me out of that city so that I wouldn’t end up like the Imogen Selkirk.” She sucked in a lungful of brine-clogged air. “You don’t need to use my title, Vreis. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
“Very well then,” he said with a smile. “If you insist,Eislyn. But only when we aren’t in the presence of royals. We wouldn’t want them to believe you’d become too friendly with a mere warrior.”
She felt herself flush as she caught the implication. Only husbands, wives, sons, and daughters were permitted to drop titles at court. Family. Those bound by blood and vows and flesh. If Vreis were to drop her title in front of a lord or lady, some would think them lovers, ruining any chance she had at truly marrying Thane.
A High Queen could not be blemished. That included sex.
Eislyn cleared her throat, suddenly unable to find any words at all. As she turned her gaze to the horizon, a heavy darkness rolled across the crystal sea, blotting out the blazing sun.
“Storm’s a coming,” Aisten, the captain of the ship, shouted as he scurried toward them, flapping his shimmering arms. “You two best get below decks. I don’t fancy fishing a princess out of that there sea.”
Eislyn’s stomach flipped with fear. Their journey thus far had been nothing but pleasant. The waters were calm; the skies were clear and blue. It had lulled her into a false sense of security, it seemed. Eislyn hadn’t imagined what could happen if there was a storm.
They could all die.
“No need to be frightened, Your Highness. Er, sorry. Eislyn.” Vreis wrapped a strong hand around her elbow and ushered her toward the stairwell that led deep into the belly of the ship. “This crew has sailed through many a storm, and we’ll be safe down below.”
“All right,” Eislyn said, doing her best to appear steadied and calm, like her sisters would. They would not show fear, not when faced with something as simple as a storm. But storms made Eislyn think of something she wished she could forget. The ash in the sky. The falling flecks of black. Her mother’s scream as she died.
Eislyn shuddered and followed Vreis down the creaking steps. He led her to the cabins where a small, dark room held about half a dozen tables. Large barrels were stacked in the corner, and shadows bounced through the room from teal orbs that hung from the curving walls. It stank in here, Eislyn could not help but notice. Like stale mead, sweat, and grime.
