Part Twenty-One

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Under different circumstances, Ashen would enjoy a visit to East Sienna. She liked to wander through the sandy streets and the bazaars throughout the capital city. She enjoyed seeing Jonian, the palace gardens, and even the palace itself. Trips to the kingdom used to be a time of peace for her family. Markael seemed calmer, Jonian didn't pick fights with their mother, Arrow and George didn't have to hide their relationship or their identities, and Ashen got to enjoy having a normal family. Even after her family fractured, that sense of tranquility remained. It was one of the few places Ashen felt at ease.

Now Nikolai was taking that away.

It had been over twelve hours since she spoke to her father—and overheard Veran and her stepfather. She hadn't seen Veran yet—lucky for him—and she had managed to avoid Nikolai almost completely. Unfortunately, she hadn't eaten since they left Carmine. Her stomach had stopped growling several hours earlier, but it still ached for food. Once she was sure no one would be in the galley, she could sneak down there and snipe whatever was left.

She stopped pacing and glanced down at Smiegal. She'd rushed to his cabin the second she woke. He was still unconscious. His eyes were closed and his breathing was steady. The bruises and scars were beginning to heal; that was a good sign. Still, she would feel a lot better when he awoke.

Please wake up soon, she thought. Please.

Fiddling with her glass pendant, she looked around the room. She looked at the trunk at the foot of his bed, his night table, the makeshift target she'd carved on the wall, and the window overlooking the sea—anything but him. She couldn't bear to see him like that.

Ashen took a deep breath, drinking in the salty ocean breeze. Her cabin didn't have a window, and Nikolai didn't want her above deck, so she could only glimpse the sea when visiting Smiegal. How she missed it! She wanted to be on her ship again. She wanted to grip the wheel and turn it towards the nearest vessel—and the nearest fight. Ashen missed being a pirate. It had been less than a day but it felt like a lifetime.

Just six more days after today. Six more. Then you and your crew will be free, she told herself. Just six more days.

She thought she heard Smiegal stir. Whirling around, she watched his face, waiting for him to move. He didn't. Smiegal was still just as unconscious as before. She snatched a dagger from the night table and flung it at the wall. It thudded as it embedded itself in the center of her target. Ashen huffed and walked over to it. She yanked it out of the wall. There were dozens of other notches at and around the bullseye. That had been her best throw so far. She found herself smiling. What would her stepfamily think if they knew what she was doing? Nadya and Alena would be outraged; throwing knives wasn't very ladylike, after all. Natalya might be intrigued. She didn't seem quite as prim and proper and her mother and twin.

Sighing, Ashen sat down and leaned against Smiegal's bed. She pulled her knees to her chest. The Carminian amulet bumped them, swaying back and forth from her sternum to her legs. She batted it away irritably. The stupid thing was useless now. It was the reason she was in this mess. She shouldn't have taken Jag up on his deal. He was the only reason she hadn't chucked the ruddy thing into the ocean. He had said it was valuable, and her father and crew would need that money after they were free.

After a few minutes, she stood. There wasn't anything she could do for Smiegal. If he were a sorcerer like her, she could have given him a healing elixir. Even if he were, she doubted Nikolai would have let her brew one, or use one of the ready-made ones onboard. No, she would just have to wait.

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