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Daughter of the Tempest

Page 9

by Braidee Otto

“She’s not on a mission,” Myna says, and I can see her bracing for the next words. “She was taken.”

“By whom?” Prince Kallias demands.

I scoff. “You’d think being born into royalty would grant you a better education, but you seem a bit daft, don’t you, Prince?”

His eyes snap to mine, and apparently, I need to spell it out for him.

“When you help break a very powerful stranger out of the Aviary dungeons, sometimes they abduct you instead of giving thanks. Or did you forget the part where you helped us plan his jailbreak?”

“Or…” Myna’s words trail off, and I tear my gaze from the prince and fix it on her.

“Or what?” Prince Kallias demands.

The implication dawns on me before she can answer.

“Or she went with him willingly.” My hand creeps into the pocket of my pants and wraps around the charm Aella carved for me.

I don’t want to believe she would have chosen to leave without a word. As fiercely as she longs for freedom and the chance to explore the world beyond these isles, her need for family weighs heavier than that desire. She craves a sense of belonging, a place she can genuinely call home, and Prince Kallias represents that for her, even if her father does not. I am that for her—a sister of the soul, if not of blood. And yet…everything that happened during and after our mission could have pushed her.

“Clearly, you don’t know her as well as you think,” the prince scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “She wouldn’t leave.”

I glance at him, only to be met with yet another scowl.

Notos, spare me from this insufferable, pompous prick.

We both pretend we’re the only one who truly knows her. But the truth is—we’re clinging to different versions of the same girl, and maybe neither of us has ever really seen her whole.

“Then we’ll need to figure out why she was taken and where she is now.” Myna looks toward the prince. “But that’s not the only reason I asked you to come here. We have another pressing issue on our hands.”

Prince Kallias and his guard exchange a long look. “And what issue is that?”

“Nyssa’s life is in danger,” Myna says simply.

“Why should I care? She means nothing to me,” Prince Kallias says.

“How princely of you,” I mutter.

“Aella will never forgive me—or you, for that matter—if we do nothing about it,” Myna says, ignoring me entirely. “Since they foolishly decided to form a bond, the Eagle is planning to capture Nyssa and use her as bait to lure Aella back.”

Prince Kallias’s eyes flash with irritation. “And what is it you want from me?”

The way Myna smiles makes my stomach plummet, and I already know I won’t like the answer to that question.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

“I can hear you fidgeting from here,” Prince Kallias snaps.

I shoot a glare at the back of the prince’s head, tugging the scratchy fabric of the servant’s gown away from my skin once more before letting out a frustrated sigh and allowing it to fall back against my legs. As uncomfortable as this new attire is, Myna had attempted to make it marginally more practical by stitching hidden pockets into the fabric. A slit at the thigh makes it easy to reach the dagger and lockpicks, while the drapery across my stomach conceals several small pockets. The charm from Aella is hidden beneath the neckline, and I think that’s what bothers me the most—knowing how my appearance has been so altered. I’ve worn disguises, played different roles, but never physically changed my self.

Now my hair has darkened to near black, its warmth muted and the curls pulled pin-straight; my hazel eyes have shifted to a rich, unfamiliar brown; and the angles of my face and body have sharpened.

“This feels awful,” I say, tugging on the braid hanging over my shoulder.

Is this how Aella felt all that time she wore her charmed earring? Countless days for countless years, she disguised her appearance, and I’d never thought to ask. Guilt creeps over me, tainting my mood only further.

“I don’t need to imagine,” he says, taunting me. “I’m not a fugitive who needs to go into hiding.”

I resist the urge to grind my teeth, glancing at his guard where he walks alongside me instead. “Is he always this much of a prick?”