Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

TRESSYA

The treacherous sea curled back upon itself, then mounted another attack, pounding mercilessly against the dock. The timber dock shuddered under my feet as a fine mist of sea spray dampened my hair. Having never sailed before, I wouldn't dwell on the time I would spend in cramped confines with Radnisa and Anderline, who would replace Lucia as my lady's maid, since Lucia was not a disciple of the Sistern. My family was conspicuously absent from the farewell party, which consisted of no one.

The docks bustled with noisy chaos. Men scurried up and down the gangplank, carrying cargo and herding reluctant livestock to be kept deep in the hold, while hungry gulls screeched overhead. Apparently, fresh breeding stock was also part of the deal. I could imagine what the ship would smell like halfway through the voyage. They cautioned us to expect peasant food and warned that water would be scarce.

Ten seamstresses had fattened my trunks with dresses of exquisite craftsmanship, embellished with jewels to grace the halls of Emberfell Castle. I might be a bastard with few features to recommend me, but Father was determined I would not disgrace the House of Whelin.

I turned away from the disordered mayhem and looked back at Aldorr Castle, nestled high on the mount. With the weak sun's rays reflecting off its stone walls, the castle appeared like a ghost hovering above the sprawling city below. And just like a ghost, I had always thought of it as a lonely place.

In the weeks since my father's announcement, I had tried to gather as much knowledge as I could about my future home and husband. But everyone dismissed me. Unlike Edilene, no one bothered to educate me about the Tarragona court, its laws, religion, or history. No one expected me to play any political part, just that of the docile, pregnant queen, hidden from public life for the shame of her ancestry.

Pregnant queen was the only role the Mother expected of me. The Sistern of Silence focused on bloodlines, secretly intervening and manipulating for their desired outcome. While kings concerned themselves with their male heirs, the Sistern focused on far more important fates: those of the female line. Daughters of important marriages were fostered into the Sistern's care and trained as loyal disciples. This ultimately strengthened the Sistern's political power within the near realms. But I was puzzled why the Mother chose me, ignoring Edilene, the more accomplished daughter, banishing her to the House of Stafford, though I doubted she cared much for a bloodlink with Prince Guillenet. No wonder Edilene was furious. I felt a smug satisfaction at that.

I turned back to the large ship, standing taller than any ships docked alongside or anchored out to sea. This was one insignificant fact I would be grateful for; perhaps I would find some space away from my two Sistern shadows.

A small boy with wild, shabby hair, dressed in stained clothes and smelling of fish, tugged at my skirt. I smiled down at him. "Hello, young sir."

"There's a man over by the crates," he motioned behind him. "He wants to speak with you."

Carlin. I'd managed one message to him since Father's announcement and had yet to see him. I thought perhaps it would be best for us both if I left without a teary farewell, even if the idea broke my heart. Now I knew he was here, the pounding of my blood through my ears obscured Radnisa's approach.

"No."

I jerked at her harsh voice, spoken over my shoulder. The boy scampered away.

"I have time. There's still more to be loaded onboard."

She seized my elbow and jerked me around, then stepped close to keep her voice low. "Your future is across the sea with an heir at your foot to appease the king and a daughter in your belly to please the Mother. That is your only purpose. Your life here is over."

I pulled my elbow from her hold. "I will say goodbye to him. I suggest you stop delaying me."

Her green eyes darted between mine as her lips pinched tight. I read her struggle to hold her anger within. Hidden away from onlookers, I was sure she would slap the insolence out of my mouth. "Now is not the time to grow thorns."

"And you'd best tend to your own preparations."

I spun from her and the fury roiling in her eyes like an angry sea. With my skirts lifted above the damp grime, I strode across to the empty crates stacked beside an old warehouse. Seeing Carlin's face poke around the side of the stack, I forgot about the stench of rotten fish, which turned the food in my stomach. His eyes widened, then a broad smile spread across his face. My heart tore in too many places; I was bound to leave many pieces behind.

He snagged my hand as I neared and pulled me around behind the crates. I breathed into his mouth as our lips smashed together and our chests collided. His mouth smothered my gasp at the lingering pain of my wound. With our bodies pressed as one, I felt his heart beat in tune with mine as tears burned my eyes.

We savored each other with a long, languid kiss to stamp upon our memories until we both needed to breathe.

"You didn't think I would let you go without saying goodbye?" he said with a cheeky smile.

"I thought it would be kindest to both of us if I slipped away." My arms wrapped around his neck, and I entwined my fingers through his hair, staring into his muscovite eyes. "I'm so glad you're here." Then I kissed him again, desperately, showing him all that was in my heart, inhaling his seed oil smell and knowing that smell would never leave me.

My salty tears broke free and streamed down my cheeks and into our mouths. I had few words strong enough to bridge this moment, so I poured my pain through our kiss, wanting it to find a home deep within him. I was a disciple. I knew this day would come, but I'd not expected it to hurt so much. I didn't want to let him go. He struggled to pull back, but I clutched him tighter to me.

"My beautiful princess."

I placed my hand over his mouth. "Don't call me that."

"You're right. I should call you queen."

I closed my eyes. "That I want to hear even less."

"Tressya." He won, setting me back a short distance. "You'll be a magnificent queen. There's no woman as wise as you. That is what you take with you. And this." He pressed a hand over my heart. "Loyalty to your people. They'll fall madly in love with you. I know I did." He feathered a finger down my cheek. "They won't be able to help themselves."

The pain was like nothing I'd felt before. I'd let Carlin into my heart. Mother forgive me my weakness .

"You would hate the life of a farmer's wife even more. It's beneath you."

"I never would've hated you."

"Someday maybe you would've done. You're too intelligent and too courageous to be anything other than queen. Don't compare yourself with your sister. Or that snake of a lady-in-waiting. You outshine both. It's no wonder the king chose you."

I circled my arms around his neck and pulled us close, unable to meet his eyes any longer.

You don't know me . The painful stab in my heart at thinking those words brought more tears to my eyes. I fulfilled my promise never to lie to Carlin in all ways but one, the most important way, the way that opened the true depths of my soul. Love was not one of the six pillars, so the Sistern gouged it from our hearts. It was a manacle, diminishing our purpose and placing an obstacle in our path. The perfect disciple's heart would not bleed. That mine did showed my lack of discipline.

"The prince will be kind and unselfish. Oh, and did I mention adoring of you?"

"How can you be so generous?"

"I don't know. It comes naturally." Then he chuckled, but I sensed the underlying melancholy in his voice.

"You'll give your children a title that does not begin with bastard. Something you and your mother never had."

I nestled into him even more, my hot tears against his neck and drenching his shirt. Only now, in the wrenching pain of separation, did I realize that Carlin had found a dormant place in my still-beating heart. For a brief moment, I had loved. But I had been weak to fall. This beautiful man was not meant to be my life. He was too honest, generous, and wonderful to exist in my world, and I was too torn, beaten, and dangerous to live in his.

I wanted to stay in his arms forever. Discipline . I loosened my grip on his neck and let my hands fall to my sides. While it would have torn my heart to depart without a proper goodbye, I needed to remember who I was.

"Forget me," I urged him. "In your children's eyes, see only the woman you loved and married."

"That is an impossible request."

"And one you will fulfill." I darted in and kissed him to silence him, to remember him, to sear his presence into my pain for a little longer.

"I have something for you." He captured my wrist before I could retreat, with his other hand he pulled a silver chain from his pocket, a piece that would cost six months' worth of wages if not more.

"No, Carlin. You shouldn't have."

"But I did. You can't refuse it."

I shook my head, fresh tears blurring my vision of the small, intricate carved series of circles dangling before me.

Carlin took my hand, turned it palm-side up, and placed the carving in the center, allowing the chain to slip through my fingers.

"I carved it from bone."

"Bone?"

"I wanted to do something different, something special. You likely have plenty of expensive jewels in your trunks, but I bet you have nothing carved from bone."

He took it from my hand. "Turn around."

As I obeyed, he told me. "Circles have no end. Remember that my love for you will have no end."

I held the bone carving in my fingers as Carlin fastened the chain. Then he spun me around to face him.

"Your courage will have no end. Even in the darkest moments."

I closed my eyes as I placed my fingers over his lips, unable to bear his words any longer. Already they'd torn out my heart. My strength deserted me. I would give me life at this moment to stay by his side.

"I have to go," I whispered, drowning in my warm tears as slashes brutally tore my heart to pieces.

He nodded, wiping his eyes. "I couldn't let you go without a piece of me."

I tortured myself a breath longer, falling into his silvery-gray eyes, memorizing for the hundredth time the perfection of his ordinary face.

Then I let him go and fled, knowing that was the last time I would feel my heart; the last time it would be ruined.

Though spacious for a ship, I already felt caged. King Henricus spared little expense in collecting his son's bride while taking the opportunity to display Tarragona's wealth. Father's ships were little more than barges alongside the Sapphire Rose, with its black and white ensign rippling in the gentle breeze.

The crew was numerous and busy, leaving the three of us forgotten. I slumped on one of my many trunks, already feeling my stomach roll in time with the ship, already sick of the smell of the salty air. Radnisa stood beside me, arms folded and wearing her usual deep frown. She shuffled from one foot to the other and huffed a sigh before finally uttering, "This won't do. You"—she snapped at a passing sailor—"do something about these." She waved at our trunks. "Do you expect us to wait here until the ship leaves the dock?"

He eyed her, seemingly unperturbed by her snappish manner. Then he flicked his eyes to me. Equally unimpressed, he turned and slouched away.

"Mercy to the Mother, these Tarragonans are half savage." Radnisa caught me smirk so turned her body to face me. "I wouldn't start with your exaltations. You're not on the throne yet."

Slowly, I turned away, pressing my lips together to suppress my smile. I was free from my family and Father's court. That was enough to lighten some of my burdened heart.

"A flirtation with the stable boy, and now you think you know a man's heart," she continued.

I closed my eyes, preparing for the lash of Radnisa's words. She never allowed me the upper hand in any argument, knowing how to wield her tongue to cut me deep.

Facing the dock, I heard the fabric of her skirts crinkle as she leaned closer to me. "The crown prince of Tarragona won't differ from any man. Ruthless, greedy, and vengeful, with a wandering eye and disdain for the one whose bed he's forced to share. Wives are easily shoved aside." She straightened. "It's a good thing you are so compliant. It will be easier for him to dismiss you."

Perhaps her words were tinged with personal experience. "What about Baron Ledredon?"

"He was happy to let me go."

I'm sure he was.

"Besides, he would've found a knife in his chest had he made a fuss," she added, her sarcasm cutting through.

Placed there by his wife, who would've paused long enough to take some celebratory wine before raising the alarm. Radnisa was high-born but forced into a marriage with a lowly baron. I'm sure the indignity was responsible for her permanent ill temper.

"Someone else has likely already filled his bed. And that is the way of men. Now get up, we're finding our cabins."

A man dressed in a regulation uniform of breeches, a gray frocked coat with white trim, and large white buttons approached us, trailed by a band of sailors. He had tied his dark brown hair into a small bun at the nape of his neck. The only facial hair he wore was a small mustache that barely covered half his top lip.

"Forgive me, Your Highness." He made a show of his bow. "I am First Officer Hindemill. I see the men have been tardy in securing your trunks. You must forgive us. The captain says there is a storm coming and wants to be away as soon as possible. There's much preparation I need to oversee before then."

I stood. "You're?—"

"Ensure Her Highness's trunks are stowed first. The princess is not herself since boarding the ship," Radnisa interrupted.

Hindemill shared a knowing smile. "It's not uncommon for those who've never been onboard before. It will pass." He dipped his head before spinning on his heels to bark orders at his men.

The first officer escorted us to the stern of the ship, boasting that my cabin was the best onboard and placed Radnisa and Anderline elsewhere. If not for the wound in my heart, I would be elated they weren't cramped in my cabin with me.

I pressed my hand over my heart as if that would hold the dozen pieces together, then feeling Carlin's necklace, I seized it in my fist. He was my past, so he shouldn't be filling my head or remaining lodged in my heart like he did. Prince Juel should be there instead. Since no one had told me anything about him, all I had were my hopes. And if I let my fantasies free he was a brave, generous, attentive, handsome prince, though the latter wasn't necessary for my happiness.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, I leapt to my feet, intent on exploring my cabin, only to land back on my bed when my stomach rolled with the ship. I pressed my hand over my bodice, swallowing the queasiness down before standing again. Hopefully, as Hindemill said, this sickness would pass.

The sun flooded through latticed windows, creating blocks of light across the furniture, and stretching as long columns across the floor. At least they hadn't housed me in the depths of the ship, which had been a momentary fear. I had a large wooden desk with stationery and a comfortable couch for relaxing, and if I opened the window, I could release the stuffy smell all enclosed spaces held and let in the briny sea air.

The crew had set my trunks against the opposite wall to my bed. Perhaps if I unpacked a few things, I would forget about my stomach moving in rhythm with the ship. But before I made it halfway across the cabin, a shimmering light appeared above my trunk. I watched as muted colors emerged through the floating mirage, swirling in on themselves before coalescing into the form of a man wearing the clothes of a sailor. The top half of him was visible while the bottom half disappeared inside my trunk. For the first time in my life, I was seeing a spirit. Any gift in the death arts manifested in infancy, which meant if I was a spiritseer, it would've manifested already, not at the late age of twenty-three.

"By the looks of yer expression, I'd say yer'd be seeing me."

He moved forward, his bottom half emerging from my trunk. Rather than walk, he floated, his legs less formed. I could also see through him to the wall of my cabin behind. There was no death echo for me to read because, I guess, the man was already dead.

"A shock, aye? Same 'ere. This ain't never happened to me before. What might the lass's name be?

"Tressya. And you?"

"Scregs." His eyes roamed down my body.

"I see the dead lose their manners."

"The dead think like the living. Even if we've no more desire. Habit, I guess." He chuckled as he floated around me.

"Yer the princess?"

"And they eavesdrop."

"What else I gonna do? No one to talk to."

"You're alone?"

"Nah. Yer try talking to the same dumbasses for a century more and see how interesting that would be."

"Why don't I see them?"

"Yer will. No doubt. At some point." He came to a stop in front of me. "Curious, ain't it?" He slowly reached out his hand, but his finger passed through me like a spear of ice.

I shuddered. "That we're talking to each other?"

"Yeah. And more."

"Which is…?"

"Yer."

He floated closer. I refused to step back as a wall of cold pressed against my skin.

"What about me?"

"Why aren't yer on the floor? Fainting is what fancy ladies do. Or screaming?"

"I'm familiar with spirits. I've never seen one before, but…" There was little point in explaining.

"Hmm…" And he rubbed a finger along his chin, but it passed through his face. Perhaps gestures were a habit the dead retained, even if they couldn't feel what they were doing. "It might explain yer ways."

"My ways? Do you mean my ability to read death echoes?"

"Don't know what yer talking about. Death echoes?" He uttered it a few more times, playing with the word. "Never heard that one before."

"Colors are intricately linked to a person's fated moment of death. The taint of their death echo, the aura surrounding them, will change depending on where they exist in their life-death cycle. A healthy baby's death echo glows like the sun. A person close to death is surrounded by a choking, dark mist. Those are the extremes. Every key moment on their way to death is signaled by a change in their death echo."

He nodded, then scratched his ear, but his hand slipped through his head as a heat rushed up through my body. I swayed greater than the gentle roll of the ship, and I spun from him, a hand over my mouth, one pressed firm to my stomach. That didn't help. As the burning wave rode up my throat, I had little time to rush for the windows. The latch wouldn't budge. In my desperation, I banged on the wood paneling. "Curses, why won't you open?"

"I'd show yer. But I ain't got the fingers." Scregs wriggled his fingers in my periphery.

I palmed my mouth once more, pressing my lips firm to keep the constant roll of sickness inside. Fighting with the latch would not win me through. I closed my eyes. Discipline . I focused on my sudden, unexpected well of panic, swelled with the rise of sickness from my stomach and finding the window wouldn't open, then used my deep exhale to dislodge the panic and drag it from its clutch on my chest.

Once I'd tamed my wild racing heart, I found the latch wasn't hard to undo. I swung open the window and leaned out as far as I could, breathing in the cold sea air. The back of the Sapphire Rose stood almost as high as the dock, but I stared ahead out to sea with the noisy squawk of gulls overhead.

Scregs appeared at my side, the windowsill splitting his body in two.

"It happens to many. Best to empty yer guts into the water. Yer'll feel better."

I ignored him as I pressed my palm to the wound. Mother, what have you done? It was the only explanation for my deepening ability within the death arts.