My teeth rattle with every round, the rifle pressed tightly in the crook of my shoulder.
At first I think the silhouette is a trick of the light. The sun on the rushes and the leaves, casting an odd shadow. But then it’s unmistakable. Orrian parts the plants with a hand, his wicked smile visible even fifty yards away. I take aim and miss, the bullet plunking into the water. His grin only deepens. He doesn’t need words to threaten me. The smile is enough.
When the keel rounds the bend, the captain shouts something I can’t hear, but I feel relief all the same. His friend, the other keelboat captain, has stopped his craft in the middle of the river, waiting for us.
And standing on the cargo bed, loaded and waiting, is a fixed and ready heavy machine gun, perched like a black iron spider. The ammunition coils next to it, a snake of bullets.
With the grove of trees out of our sight, now hidden behind the river bend, everything falls quiet. No gunfire, just my thundering heartbeat and the gasping breaths of every person aboard the keel.
I keep my eyes behind, waiting for another strike, as the captain maneuvers the keel up to his friend’s boat. Both crews are quick to lash the crafts together, working as diligently as ants in a colony.
Softly, Melly starts to cry.
My focus is still on the river, on the stand of trees just out of view, when the planks of the deck shudder beneath heavy footsteps. The captain’s voice growls in my ear, his breath hot against me.
“You lied, strongarm.”
FOUR
Lyrisa
Lied about not being a danger. Lied about no one pursuing me. Lied, lied, lied.
“A smuggler taking offense to dishonesty? There’s a sight,” I snap, stepping back to put some distance between me and the captain. The rifle is still under my arm, and his eyes trail along the barrel. He’s gauging if he’s fast enough to take it back.
I make the decision for him, and press the gun into his chest. “They’re done with us for now.”
Jem stands over her son, still crumpled on the deck. She glares at me with a leveling fury. “You care to explain who they are, Silver? The ones who tried to murder my boy?”
I’m suddenly aware of the dozen eyes watching me, both on this keel and the one tied up alongside ours. The other captain stands behind his machine gun, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He looks like a skeleton leering down at me. I detest such an audience, and my insides crawl.
“Not hard to figure it out,” one of our polers—the woman, Riette—drawls. “The princess got sick of the palace, and now her uncle’s sent soldiers to bring her back. Without regard for anyone who might get in the way.”
Captain Ashe narrows his eyes. “They were on the Lakeland side of the river. And you’re far from Prince Bracken’s Lowcountry.” He steps back into my space, crowding me against the rail. “Seems like an awful long way for them to follow. You didn’t outrun those Silvers all the way from Citadel.”
No, just the border.
Scowling, the captain surveys me again. This time his eyes snag on my clothing, the dark blue of the Lakelander uniform soaked through with river water. He grabs my collar, rubbing the fabric between two rough fingers. I slap him away, working hard to keep my strength in check.
His eyes are livid; he’s angry with me, and with himself. “You weren’t traveling with a convoy, Princess, and you weren’t attacked by rebels.”
I don’t expect a Red to understand. They don’t know what it’s like for us, what it’s like to be sold the day you are born.
“Keep the payment,” I hiss, stepping around the young captain. “I’ll make my own way from here.”
He grabs me by the collar again, daring to stop me. I could break his grip if I wanted. Shatter his hand without blinking. And Ashe knows it. But it doesn’t stop him. That infernal gold tooth winks at me, gleaming and terrible.
“You tell me who that was and what you’ve dragged my crew into.”
“Or what, Red?” I nearly spit. “I’ll get out of your hair. I’ve paid your price. What does it matter?” I almost expect him to hit me, and I would welcome the glancing sting. Anything to combat this unfamiliar twist of wretchedness in my stomach. I do what I can to keep my eyes on the captain and not the sodden little boy who nearly died for my foolishness. Still, I can’t help but look.
Big Ean shakes his head and answers for the captain. “You think they won’t track the boat, miss? Even if you’re gone?” He scratches his beard. “I think they will.”
He isn’t wrong. Orrian is nothing if not vengeful, petty, and altogether dismissive of Red life. The Lakelander prince has so much anger in him, and the rest is hatred.
“I’ll make it clear I’m gone,” I tell them weakly, the words already dying on my lips. It is a poor excuse, one we all see through.
The captain doesn’t let go of my collar, even as his grip slackens. “Who are we dealing with?” he growls, though his voice is tinged with need.
“His name is Orrian Cygnet. He is a prince of the Lakelands, a cousin to the nymph queen, and a nymph himself.” I focus on my boots. Looking down helps me speak. If I don’t have to see their pity or their anger, I can manage to tell the truth. “He is a terrible person—violent, vengeful, a monster of a man—and I’ve been betrothed to him since I drew my first breath.”
I look to the Red servants first, hoping for their derision. It was their son who almost died. They should hate me. But they soften before any of the rest, and it makes me want to vomit. They know firsthand what Silver monsters look like.
I don’t deserve their compassion. I don’t want it either.
“You slipped a Lakelander escort,” the poler Gill guesses. “When you crossed the border.”
Jaw tight, I turn to face the aging Riverman. “I killed a Lakelander escort. When I crossed the border.”
The captain pulls his hand away as if burned. “How many guards?”
“Six. Seven, if you count my companion from home.” I taste bile when I think of her, Magida, my oldest friend. Her blood silver between my fingers, her mouth trying to form words she would never speak. “She died helping me escape. But I suppose you could say I killed her too.”
A murmur goes through the crew on the other keel, rippling in a line right up to their captain. He twitches, uncertain, nervous to the bone. “Ashe, you should let her go,” he calls. “Shout up and down the river that she’s off the water.”
The captain doesn’t respond, his teeth gritted. He knows as well as I do what a risk that would be. He watches me, looking for an answer I cannot give.
“Ashe, I’ve got hot cargo here. I’m with you easy river or hard, but if I’m caught with what I’m carrying . . . ,” the other captain continues, pleading now. He expects Orrian and his gang to jump out of the river at any minute. It’s not a bad instinct.
Orrian is nowhere near as powerful as the Lakelander queen or her daughters, but he is still formidable. And while he can’t turn the entire river against us, he’ll certainly try.
A muscle jumps in Ashe’s cheek as he thinks, running a hand through his dark hair. Without knowing it, I do the same, twisting my hair away from my face.