Blood Ties

Chapter 14: Declan

Candles flickered in the library as Declan turned another page, making a note in the weighty tome's margins. He had spent all day among these leather-bound spines and yet found not another clue to the reason why Nadia would heal in moments from a cut that looked as though it should have taken weeks to even form a scar. Why a cursed priestess would have the powers of a sorceress. And what it was that tugged at his gut whenever she was near, like a rope tied around his ribcage and connected him to her. There was something to be said for academic work. At least it got his mind off of Olivia's death.

"Studying again? You should have been born a scholar, not a prince," Mark commented as he appeared from behind his armchair. The boy really had far too much nerve and far too little common sense for someone of his size. He quickly realized his mistake and stuttered out an honorary. "Er, Your Highness."

Declan slammed shut the book he had been poring over--a detailed inventory of curses and curse magic--as he turned to face the blond. "What is it that you want, Mark?"

"Your Highness, the captain has asked me to see him in his quarters," Mark stammered out, staring down at his scuffed boots.

"The captain should have better sense than to summon a prince to see him, but I suppose intelligence is in short supply around here." Declan put the book into his satchel. "Very well, then. Lead the way."

He stomped after Mark, walking so quickly and taking such long strides that the boy had to hurry in order to be in front of him. Good. Someone needed to keep the younger guards on their toes, or they would become far too complacent for his liking. As they hurried through the halls up to the deck before finally reaching the Captain's study, he caught the whiff of sea air. Declan had always been indifferent to the ocean. For him, it was just another method of travel. It was simply another vast swathe of undiscovered, unexplored, and uncharted territory. Interesting, but not particularly compelling. But it wasn't until he had spent time on a ship for long lengths of time that he realized how wrong he had been.

Massive storms could easily gather and form on the water and pummel ships like this without so much as a second thought. Out on the water, they were vulnerable, like a woodland creature out in the open, available to any predators who wanted to pick them off. Enormous waves could dwarf this vessel, making its manmade hull and the sailors on it look like tiny ants compared to the monstrosities lurking in the deep. No, the ocean was not something to be taken lightly. Not anymore.

They reached the Captain's office, and Mark gave a timid knock on the door. Resisting a sigh, Declan rapped loudly, then heard footsteps and shuffling as the captain got up from his chair to greet them. He opened the door, his scraggly grey beard--his face was usually clean-shaven-- making him appear worn-out from a long day at sea. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes had hollows beneath them, complete with dark circles to cement his image of a tired, grandfatherly sort of sea captain. Still, no one could mistake the authority in his tone or the steel-straight spine even after a day's work.

"How might I assist you, Captain?" Declan asked after Mark had been dismissed. He stepped into the Captain's office after being invited in.

"Please, take a seat before we discuss business. Can I offer you a hot beverage or the like?" The captain gestured toward a teapot that had been haphazardly placed next to a stack of papers and a brown journal--likely his captain's log. It seemed rather dangerous to leave a container of boiling hot liquid next to so much flammable and fragile material especially while on a moving ship, but Declan figured that the man knew what he was doing. "I have tea, coffee, some whiskey..."

"Tea will be fine, thank you," he said, simply to keep the man from listing more beverages. "Captain, what news do you have for me?"

"Actually, I had some questions for you, Your Highness," the man replied, pouring the tea from its ceramic pot into two matching cups. They were of a simple design, without handles or any decorations. "Tell me about the priestess. What's her name--Natalia?"