Blood Ties

Chapter 16: Declan

He knew he should not have been so rude to Nadia when she had been nothing but kind to him. The minute her cabin door slammed shut behind him, he regretted it. Not only because he would have to stumble back to his cabin, holding onto the handrails like an extremely clumsy limpet, but because he had lied. Good night was not the only thing he had left to say to her. But it was the only thing he could say without impunity, without receiving a lashing from his own morals and sensibilities.

Because the truth was, Nadia was not only valuable to him in the way of a priceless treasure or an interesting trinket. No, because he could not convince himself to ignore that tug between them. That inexplicable bond would not allow her to only matter as much to him as a diamond or a gold bar or one of those fantastical delicacies from the Far East. It was rumoured that, once consumed, they provided not only delicious flavour but granted the user temporary magical powers and heightened senses.

She was not a human being to him. Or, she should not have been. He ought to have kept her in a cage, in shackles, in chains. That was how you treated prisoners of war, spoils of war, slaves. But Declan had never had a taste for enslaving others. Learning more about humanity fascinated him. Putting others in severe pain for his own selfish benefit did not.

Nadia Sancta was foreign, cursed, intriguing. A mere possession, she would never be. But how to explain to his father that the key to immense magical power lay in one wisp of a girl draped in swaths of pale silk--that would be impossible. He would view her as his concubine as easily as the ship's captain had.

Passing by the ship's galley, he paused and entered, smelling herbs and spices despite the late hours. It must have been the servants' mealtime. "Do you have any ginger?"

"Would you like me to make you something, sir?" The cook's red face appeared tired and cross, as she folded her arms over her broad, apron-clad chest.

"No, not at all. I simply wanted to know if you could wrap up some ginger and have it delivered to Nadia Sancta's cabin?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the hall he had just vacated. "I would, of course, provide monetary compensation for doing so."

Her wary expression relaxed, her brown eyes softening into compliance. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Could you see about getting her some salve, also?" he asked, thinking of how she had cursed when touching the hot kettle. "For a burn."

"Certainly, sir." She waved over one of the younger maids, Mary, and gave precise instructions. "All set, sir."

Declan nodded. "Thank you, Mrs...?" It was always a good idea, he had learned, to befriend those who would be preparing your food.

"Amanda will do just fine," she said gruffly, clapping him on the back. "Now get yourself to bed, Your Highness. You look like my youngest son when he stays out too late after a long night of drinking."

He chuckled, surprised at the quick and easy rapport forming as he pulled out his gold. "I will, Amanda. Thank you again."

She took the small pouch and tucked it into her apron pocket before exclaiming in surprise. "That's too much, sir!"

He was already halfway out the door when he heard her response and said, "No, I hardly think so."

Whistling to himself with the feeling of a debt paid, Declan went back to his cabin and had barely taken his boots off before he drifted off into a deep sleep. During the night, strange visions passed before his closed eyes, as though he had partaken in one of those magical delicacies from the East.

A red-haired woman ran through the streets of Astroia. Her white dress billowed out behind her, rippling in the wind. She had taken something from him, something vital, something he would fall to pieces without. What was it, he did not know, but he knew he needed to get it back.

Damp earth rose and fell like the ocean beneath his feet as Declan tried to follow her, calling out her name. "Olivia?"

Then her hair colour changed, the red shifting in the sparse sunlight, darkening from red to reddish-brown but not quite reaching a deep, rich brown. She was not his Olivia. She was someone else, a stranger. Green-eyed, auburn-haired where Olivia had been blue of eye, red of hair, the sort of maiden that bards sung ballads about. Something broke and reformed inside of him when he met her gaze, his insides shifting.

She had the same eyes as Nadia, not in colour but in type. They were the kind of eyes that pierced into one's soul, that saw one's hopes and dreams and fears and perceived all of them without judgment. But who was this stranger? Why did he seek to chase her, to hunt her down? Why was she so important and why did hse look like Nadia?

"Wait," he called. So she did, surprising him as he stumbled into her, catching onto her wrist. She felt ephemeral, as though the slightest touch would cause her to turn to sand and blow away. "Who are you?"

She laughed, throwing her head back. That laugh was not Nadia's. That laugh was ancient and primal and utterly destructive, a laugh of complete ruin and obliteration, a laugh that burned civilizations and sent mountains tumbling down like so many pebbles. "You know me already and you will see me again, lad. Do not worry your pretty little head about it."

Then he woke up, sunlight streaming across his face, sweat soaking into his clothes. She had seemed so familiar... If only he could remember where he had seen the woman before... But there was no time, not time at all to ponder these things when there was a pounding on his door and Mark's voice speaking in urgent tones. "Your Highness! The storm has damaged the ship. We may all sink!"

He threw on his clothes and dashed out of his room to focus on problems of reality, not issues of fantasy.

-

Mark, of course, had exaggerated greatly. The ship was far from sinking. However, one of the masts had been knocked down in the middle of the night, having been stabbed by lightning during the storm and now lying as a blackened husk on the deck. So, the Leyria needed to make some repairs and so, the passengers would be temporarily let off at a nearby island while the crew hunted for supplies. The island was under Vytian control and had adopted their customs.

"Have you ever been to Vytia?" he could hear Rowena asking Nadia as they disembarked arm-in-arm. Their almost-instantaneously close friendship made him suspicious. He knew Rowena was keeping things from her--she had to be. After all, he was the only one who knew her secret, even if he hadn't made any nefarious use of it.

"No, I haven't," Nadia replied, her expression unreadable as it was covered by her veil. "But I've always wanted to."

A priestess, cloistered away in a temple... how would she even have heard of Vytia? Then again, who was he to judge her for being from some ancient religious backwater? The breeze ruffled Nadia's veil, and she tugged at it to keep it from blowing away. It was translucent enough that he could see the colour of her hair, deep brown, falling over her shoulders in rich waves. Sunlight slanted through the sheer fabric, making him stare a moment too long.

Rowena turned around, a smile on her face that looked far too mischievous for her position in relation to him. "What are you looking at, prince?"

She was like the younger sister he'd never asked for. "I was merely... enjoying the sights."

"Hmm." Her curious tone was tinged with mischief, lending a hint of worry to what had already been a troublesome day. 

"What?" he said.

She shrugged. "Nothing, nothing at all."