“Only one?”
“As of this morning. He’d caught on a log. Floated him right along until the rocks welcomed him with open arms. By accounts, all the boats with Myrcellian markings and that hasty flag were small and swift—you know how pirates are in their waters. The crew likely numbered a dozen at most if it was like the others.”
Geneva could easily take a ship manned by a dozen men. Alone and aided by the element of surprise, it would not be a difficult task.
“The rest of the men either surrendered or are skulking along the bottom of the ocean now,” Osana muttered.
“Any other markings known to this ship?”
The harbormaster shrugged. “None that I know.”
The information wasn’t perfect and it wasn’t clean—Koldo had made it clear that the harbormaster was working from three steps back. He hadn’t counted the ships accurately the day they’d arrived. It wasn’t until they knew Inés was dead that he and his crew were ordered to catalog the number of undocumented vessels. There could be a dozen ships missing for all the accuracy of one. The washed-up soldier was corroborating evidence of that single missing boat, but none of it was solid.
It was what one might expect when hunting a ghost.
“Good man. Queen Amarande and I thank you for your service.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Brundi nearly bowed, obviously unsure of the proper protocol when addressing the former-king-who-was-the-current-queen’s-brother-and-heir. Clearly uncomfortable in knowing that he had bungled the census initially, the man nearly sprinted away as fast as his tired body could carry him, but then he remembered his manners, stopping with a lurch. “Is there anything else you require of me?”
Ferdinand checked the sky, the pink deepening to orange over the mountains behind them, the waters ahead growing more silver than blue. “Yes, actually, I would like you to prepare the paperwork to release a ship. I will have the harbor note to you before I disembark.”
“If it’s one of the royal ships, you won’t need a note, sir, it’s—”
“No, Brundi, we won’t be flying Ardenia’s colors for this particular trip. Please ready theGatzal.We leave within the hour.”
Osana arched a brow but said nothing as the man fell over himself to confirm he would do so. When Brundi was jogging back down the quay and toward his office, Osana tipped her chin toward Ferdinand. “Do Ula and Urtzi know you plan to hijack their ship?”
“It’s not hijacking if we get back to the castle quick enough to inform them of our plans.”
The pirates were to head out with Tala’s crew and camp at the Torrentian border with the rest of the resistance overnight. The mischief in Osana’s eyes as they turned for their horses made it clear he would not make that argument with confidence. “And if we miss them? Or if they, stars forbid, deny your request?”
Ferdinand knocked her shoulder with his. It wasn’t a kiss, but itfelt like he’d invited a lightning strike—and he was actually grinning enough that Osana’s face broke into unchecked delight. “They’re pirates who stole their ship. Surely they’ll simply be happy we’re pirates who both asked nicely to borrow it and have every intention of returning it?”
CHAPTER 7
AMARANDE’Sstubbornness meant testing her sutures and skills every morning, even with the crown now firmly placed upon her head. If her father was the Warrior King, she intended very much to be the Warrior Queen.
And Luca would do anything for his love.
The morning after the coronation, they stomped out to the meadow early—before breakfast and before they planned to spend hours in the Itspi library, tomes and maps spread between them as the young leaders studied all the rules, regulations, and history that both bound them and limited them. One needed to know precisely what the rules were in order to change them to what they should be.
Even at this early hour, the sun was slanting brightly in a new and cloudless sky as they dropped their waterskins on a particular stump they preferred and checked their gear. Chest plates tightened, boot daggers secured, blunt swords tested for grip and weight. Beltza was there, too, of course, better than the best-drawn shadow. As Amarande and Luca settled in, so did the black wolf—dropping to her haunches in what was fast becoming her favorite spot in the trees, golden eyes never straying from her Otsakumea.
“What’d we last work on?” Amarande stalked to the center of the meadow and turned to Luca, hasty auburn braid curling over her shoulder, the rising sun painting her skin with the flush of summer. Her brows knit together in concentration, unintentionally drawing attention to the azure brilliance of her eyes. She caught the swell of her full bottom lip with a flash of white teeth as she thought.
They needed to train—this was serious business indeed—but in that moment Amarande was so unguarded and so beautiful that a certain mischievousness came over Luca. Without thinking twice, he knocked aside her sword, caught her forearms, and twirled her toward a tree. “I believe we were interrupted by General Koldo right about here.”
Then, Luca captured Amarande’s mouth with his.
Though his eyes were closed, Luca knew the exact moment Amarande’s resistance and preoccupation faded, her taut body sinking into the embrace and away from their collective concerns, worries, duties.
When they parted, Amarande’s face broke into a dreamy smile—again, a relief. When Luca’s love put her mind to something it was often a gamble to dissuade her, even for a brief moment. His gamble here had paid off with exactly what he’d hoped to see.
Even better, she played along.
As lithe as ever, Amarande slipped out of Luca’s grip, and forcedhimaround and against the trunk. His chest plate clanged dully against the sturdy juniper as she grinned up at him. “No, I believe this is where we were.”
She was right, of course—that had been exactly their position.
