He crossed the plank after the queen, catching my eye as he neared. Fine lines around his mouth and eyes showed he laughed well and often, and the tone of his skin told me he did not spend all of his days in court. Several guardsmen steppedonto my ship, nervous as cats in a kennel. The queen walked over to me, her stride sure. One of her guards, clad in soft leather armor, stood at her side, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
I bowed, my hair falling over my shoulders to kiss the deck. A pallor fell over my crew, a silent wariness that only the calls of the gulls and the rub of ship against ship broke into.
“Your Majesty,” I said, straightening to find that many of my crew were down on one knee, the others bowing deeply. Prescott had his brow in his massive hands, eyes closed, legs bent as if ready to drop a steaming pile onto the main deck. He tried, bless his stinking bald head. “You honor us with your presence. I do hope that you arrive in the good manner that the king promised me in his letter?”
“I do, have no fear, you all may rise,” she announced, her pink lips carrying a soft, polite smile. The kind that told me that while she was being regal, she also had no great love for pirates, which stood to reason. Given she was the High Warden of the Waves, the highest rank in the Royal Navy. Never had a female elf held that title, so I applauded her for that accomplishment but had issues with mostly everything else the navy was set to do. “King Aelir has bid me to welcome you to Celear. Please know that while you are here, you and your crew are to be shown the hospitality all new arrivals to the capital are to be given.” I held out my hand. She eyed it with keen brown-green eyes then clasped my forearm as was tradition when meeting a fellow captain. “This is Grand Advisor Le’ral Fylson. Honored veteran of service to the crown for over four hundred seasons, as well as a decorated battalion leader of the elven forces in the incursion of Bal-Mar on the Bhaston Tundra to drive back the necromantic triumvirate.”
I’d never heard of that battle, but my father cared little for elven history. Only their women piqued his curiosity, it seemed.Le’ral stepped up, his gaze steady, his shoulders square. We clasped forearms. It was pleasant to see that his grip was strong. A male in his prime. His sight darted up.
“We thank you, Your Majesty.” I glanced at Le’ral studying the sky. Peeking up through windblown hair, I spied Jaculi chasing gulls. The queen then glanced skyward, her regal, placid exterior falling as she spied the wyrm riding the wind currents, long tail lashing to and fro as he hunted.
“I dare say I’m not sure which sight I find more amazing,” Le’ral said, his voice deep and smooth as well-aged rum. “The fact that a pirate vessel sailed into our port with the blood flag flying or that it was accompanied by a dragon.”
His gaze moved over me like warm honey. “Truthfully, I’m not sure which one is the biggest danger.”
That made me smile widely. “It’s good to be wary, Grand Advisor. Danger comes in many forms, most of them beautiful.”
I stepped away from him to introduce my crew to the queen. His soft chuckle rolled over me as I made the introductions. It was the most bizarre moment of my entire life. Down a line we walked, chitty-chatting with the queen, a band of notorious pirates, the scourges of the Silvura, as the navy liked to call us, shaking hands with royalty as if we were taking part in a receiving line. I even mentioned my thoughts to Le’ral as we waited for the queen to stop talking to my first mate about her leg and the fancy slipper Hyla had put on her wooden foot just for this occasion. We all wanted our best foot forward after all.
“Ah, yes, it is a rather odd situation to be sure, but I suspect it will be good practice for you,” he said, hands casually resting over his wide chest. I arched a brow. “Having seen you in person, I cannot state how much you resemble King Aelir, his mother, and his grandfather.”
“Hmm,” I answered, unsure of how to reply to him. “I take it you’ve seen images of me that did me no justice? Probably the artist drew me from my bad side.”
A raven cawed behind us, pulling my sight to Beiro standing with his lover, his lower lip between his teeth. The scout looked highly concerned, but with what I had no clue.
“I have seen your wanted posters,” he commented without a tick of emotion. “And I do not think you have a bad side, Captain Cadere.”
That one got to me. I threw back my head and roared. The queen and Hyla fell silent at the outburst. The guards on the ship grew tense, one reaching for his scabbard.
“Easy, I’m only having a laugh.” I rolled my eyes then settled my sight on the grand advisor. “You have a way with words.” He inclined his head. The way the sun stroked his dark hair brought out the silver threaded through it. I liked his ears as well. They were longer than mine, with a finer point. No rings or jewels dangling from them. No jewelry on his hands either, which told me he was a practical man. A former soldier. It fit. I, on the other hand, was a lover of pretty things. Be they bangles, ships, silken trousers, wines, men…
I turned to the queen. “We have need of a master carpenter or skilled shipwright. We mistakenly sailed into a nest of chainjaw lampreys. Our hull is leaking slowly, but it is only a matter of time before the small holes grow larger.”
“We shall get you berthed quickly, then I will send a missive to the royal shipwright. He will get to your repairs with all due haste. Nasty things those chainjaws.”
“Yes, they are. I also have news of a plague that has overtaken Light’s Keep. It appears to be widow’s touch,” I explained as gently as I could. The queen’s pretty eyes flared. Her hand came to her cheek then fell to her side.
“We shall gather clerics who have been exposed to sail out to Light’s Keep with speed. May I ask of you that you send word to your fellow privateers to not harass the ship if it is spied in disputed waters?”
What an educated way to say that. Disputed waters. We called them ours as the navy had not shown its snout on those waves for twenty or thirty seasons. But I was being polite so disputed waters they would be.
“I can send a few notes,” I replied. It was the least I could do for Polly. The poor bastard. I hoped he was still alive when the remedy arrived.
“Thank you. Well, I think we need to be going. Aelir is probably chewing his nails to the quick. He is quite looking forward to making your acquaintance, Captain,” Queen Raewyn stated with a pleasant smile that disappeared with haste. “We have secured rooms in an inne in Celear, The Skye Nest, a highly rated establishment, for the duration of your crews’ stay.” Her gaze darted to Prescott lingering about behind me. I could hear him breathing. Trolls had stuffy noses quite often, most likely due to their pushed-in features. “We do ask that your people behave as respected guests of the crown and do not engage in any forms of illegal activity or other criminal acts.”
“They wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, throwing a warning look at all of them save Hyla. “My first mate will keep them in check. If you’ll let me gather my bags, we can be off.”
The queen nodded, striding across the planks with a sure footedness that spoke of time at sea. Le’ral gave me a nod and followed her, the guards moving over to their vessel. Asdren and Beiro also took their leave, the scout shooting me a worrisome glance as his dragon plucked another gull from the sky. Feathers floated down over us as if someone had torn a pillow asunder over our heads.
“Captain,” Hyla hurried to say, speeding over to me in her best silver slippers. “I don’t like the idea of you being in that fucking castle alone. What if the uppity prigs decide to do you in before they even test your blood? I don’t trust the rich.” She spat over the rail.
“I’ll be fine. The king is eager to meet me. You heard the queen.” I entered my quarters to gather my belongings. The small chests with my jewelry—vanity thy name is Coelum—as well as my ship’s logs, which were locked in my desk, some clothes, and my father’s cutlass. I stuffed a few daggers into my boots since a well-armed pirate was always fashionable. The gleaming silver sheath that housed the weapon was secured to my belt, the weight familiar and comforting.
“Let me come with you. I can sleep outside your door on the floor,” she argued, tossing me a pleading look as I closed the top of the large chest that sat at the foot of my bed. I’d already had one of the hands pry up the wooden treenails that had secured it to the floor.
“No, you are not sleeping on the floor like a dog. All will be well.” I closed the lid soundly before locking it, sliding the heavy iron key onto one of several chains around my neck.
“You are being foolish.” She stalked over to glower at me as I pulled on a vest with a white lotus on the back. I let her words go. She was in mother bear mode now, which, it seemed, erased all shipboard rules of talking to the captain with deference etiquette. She forgot those rules often, bless her oaken leg. “If they hire a shipwright, they will take the Cloud’s Shame to dry dock. Once she’s out of the water, how will we escape if things turn to shit?”
