14. Reina

Chapter fourteen

Reina

" H elp, please! He's taken me!" I shout again, hoping the people above can hear me. They're Wolish merchants, I can tell by the red and white flags they're running. Wolfsheim and Fynren are allies now, and there's no way they wouldn't return me to the kingdom. I just pray they speak Common Fynish well enough to understand me.

Cold metal slaps down on my wrist and I yelp as Jasper snatches my other wrist. He chains me with the copper manacles and gives me a grin.

"What are you doing!" I yell, pulling on my arms.

He holds me impeccably still, his strength far greater than my own. "I also told you that you'd only remain unshackled when we were alone. If you want your freedom, princess, you'll have to kill me for it."

Rage spills through me and I thrash. "I am Reina Hilden, fourth princess of Fynren! He's captured me! Help!"

"Just hold on!" I hear someone yell behind us in Fynish as a boat splashes into the water.

Rescue is coming. I just need the key.

I dive forward, shoving my hands into Jasper's pants in search of the key. He yelps in surprise as I dig around, finding nothing but his anatomy.

"You think I'd keep it in the same place twice?" he whispers against my hair, his voice sinister.

Fine. Fuck him.

I grab onto his penis and let my magic flow to my hand. I can't release the heat, but I can make my hand hot enough to burn him. The temperature ratchets quickly and Jasper hisses in pain.

We lock eyes as he goes completely still, his face furrowed in frustration and fury.

"Give me the key or you will lose something precious," I say, the venom dripping from my voice. I never knew I could sound like this.

Desperate.

Evil.

Like my mother.

He breathes heavily through his nose as he watches me. "What will happen when they take you home? Do you think they'll return you to the safety of your rebellion?"

His words cut through my rage.

They'll take me back to the queen.

I'd be trading one prison for another, but hers will undoubtedly end in my death.

"And what if they don't take you home? What if Wolfsheim would like another Fynish princess?"

We'd been at war with Wolfsheim for decades before the tentative peace was struck just twenty years ago. Twenty years is not long enough to forget what we've done to each other over the half-century of bloody war.

"We're coming!" the men behind me shout, getting closer by the second.

Jasper's eyes glimmer with opal light. "Think, Rei. Who's the worse captor? Is this really your best chance for escape?"

Fuck . He's right.

"Please stop burning my cock now, princess, or they might get the wrong idea about who we are to each other," he says, nodding to the boat over my shoulder.

I release him and he groans in relief. I wipe my hands off on his pants and then pull on my arms, but he holds me still.

"You're my bounty, Amaya, and I'm not going to let anyone have you."

I scowl at him and he grins. Before I can ask just what the hell he's playing at, the rowboat pulls alongside us.

"Ho there! What happened?" a man with a scruffy red beard asks in heavily accented Fynish as he throws us a rope with a loop at the end.

Jasper catches it and holds tight as the other men in the boat pull our raft closer. "We were shipwrecked on our way to Illya. I'm returning this fugitive to the king and queen for punishment."

I want to fight him, and argue, and escape—but he's right. His stupid reasoning and logic. The likelihood that I would be able to get back to my rebellion with these men is lower than if I wait it out and come up with something else, some other way to escape him.

He wants me to play, I'll fucking play.

"Get fucked, you bastard son of a whore," I say, then spit in Jasper's face. He looks at me with wild amusement as he wipes it away.

"She's a vicious one, and mighty powerful. Don't let her get these manacles off," Jasper says as he holds up my chained hands.

"Understood, sir," the bearded man says. "Lucky we found you. Storm's comin' in soon."

One of the other sailors grabs onto our raft, and Jasper holds my waist as he passes me into the boat. There's not much space, so I end up sitting on the floor between Jasper's legs. I consider biting him, show them all just how vicious I can be, but I can't muster the energy to care.

I need a meal, a proper one, and a bed. Given the size of this town, there's likely to be both here. I'm not sure how Jasper intends to pay for anything, but I have to trust he has it in hand—I don't have another option.

"Is there somewhere we can rest and coordinate safe passage?" Jasper asks Red Beard.

"There're a few taverns for the merchant vessels in the lower city—but I'd warn you not to go into the upper village. The miners are protective of their homes."

Curiosity eats at me, but I know that after my show moments ago, I can't pull off the switch in behavior and keep things believable. I glare up at Jasper. He quirks an eyebrow at me, then sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Why so secretive?" he asks with barely veiled boredom.

"They don't ever show themselves, but the rumors are…" Red Beard leans in conspiratorially and whispers, "They're eksteinvas."

"The ancient mythological race that was born in the heart of Gaien's first volcanos?" I ask, remembering them from one of the storybooks Alyse liked to read to me at night when we were young.

"Shush, you," Jasper says, nudging my butt with his boot.

I glare at him again and he gives me another quirked eyebrow that says, "You're my prisoner, remember?"

"Whatever they are or aren't, they'll take you apart for wandering into their city," one of the rowers states. "If you want to keep being among the living, don't go up there."

Jasper's eyes narrow on the island and I look over my shoulder. The upper city is built directly into the volcanic glass in flowing arches and intricate designs.

Lumi is a powerful magus with control of Gaien, which is how she became the groundskeeper at the palace. I've seen her create similar designs with dirt and softer stone like serpentine and soapstone, but nothing like this. I can see how the myth of the inhabitants' identities has come to be, since legend says eksteinvas can shape the mountains from which they were born.

"Stay away from the mountain," Jasper mutters as his hand falls to my shoulder. "Thank you for the rescue, and the warning."

Red Beard nods with a gruff grunt as the rowboat pulls up to the crowded pier. "If you're on your way to Illya, you can try to barter passage with our sister ship, the Sea Snake. Captain's name is Alejandra. She'll be at the White Sail with some of the crew."

"Thank you again, my friend," Jasper says, tapping his boot against Red Beard's.

He pulls me to my feet and grabs my waist before pushing me up onto the dock. The ten-foot-wide pier is a hive of activity. Wolish sailors roll carts loaded with boxes to the docked rowboats, and more unload them onto the ships. Each crate is branded with the Wol Empire's signate: an albatross with wings spread, encircled by grains and grapevines.

Jasper's hand clamps down on the back of my neck and I jump with a start. He leans in to whisper against my cheek, "These men are not your allies, princess. Stay with me, or you will regret it."

He marches me down the pier with his hand firmly on the back of my neck. Instead of feeling caging, and uncomfortable, it feels protective. Which is quite possibly the stupidest feeling I've ever had.

What in the nine hells is wrong with me?

Farther down the pier, men are closing the crates of sparkling gems, gold, and silver, all organized in their own compartments. Two sailors hammer the lid down while a third applies the burning brand to the wood.

At the edge, where water meets the rocky village, there are men and women with large contraptions on their heads that inspect the gems more closely. They weigh a selection of them, then place them in their appropriate slots in the crate.

"What do you think the people who live here are getting for all this?" I ask.

Jasper's thumb strokes the side of my neck idly. "Must be something important if eksteinvas are digging up their own mother."

I glance at him with a shrewd scowl. "You don't believe that story, do you?"

Jasper's face is stern, and the change in his usually effervescent mood puts me on edge.

"You do?"

He looks up at the towering city of obsidian glass with fear in his dark eyes. "Stay close to me."

I look up at the city not with fear, but hope. If Jasper wouldn't go in there, it could easily be my means of escape—once I get these damned manacles off. I blasted a hole through volcanic rock and turned it into ash . No one in that mountain would stand against me once they saw my power.

Jasper asks for directions to the White Sail and we make our way into the town. The streets are wide and clean, with buildings constructed entirely of wood and tar. A rhythmic hammering overcomes the noise of the bustling merchants, and I glance to the left as we turn a corner.

There: the billow of a blacksmith. They'll have the tools I need to free myself.

I count the alleys and our turns as Jasper finds our way to the tavern. The village is bigger now that we're inside it, having enough inns for at least two hundred people. Some buildings look like permanent residences, while others are for processing the hauls from the mines. I may be able to find other tools and necessities for my travels.

"Your scheming is so adorable," Jasper mumbles down at me.

"I'm not scheming," I say.

He laughs softly. "Of course not."

A band tightens around my stomach as I think of the path to come. I have to get away from Jasper somehow, unshackle myself, pilfer supplies to survive my trip home—how in the fuck am I going to do that?

We're on an island, and there's one way off. Hiding in the mountain might keep Jasper away from me, but he'll just wait me out. I'll have to leave by boat.

Unless…

When I fired that concentrated beam of my magic, it threw me off the raft from the strength of it. If I could channel it right, maybe I could hover? Or fly?

Hells, what am I thinking?

Jasper's hand squeezes down on the back of my neck. "You are relentless, aren't you?"

"I've never seen anything like this before. I'm just intrigued," I say, trying to assuage his suspicion.

He gives an incredulous grunt.

The White Sail is a two-story wooden construct that looks like all the rest of the buildings in this place. It's all so utilitarian. It'll be hard finding my way with everything looking the same— especially in the dark—but I've counted my steps and our turns. I know I can do it. I will do it.

Tonight, I escape.