The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

That Night

"I've never been."

"Lots of strong winds and blue skies and the castle was really tall. I remember Mama freaking out because I wanted to go to the highest tower. She was so sure I was going to fall..." Now Lark was frowning and fighting for breath, clearly struggling with his composure.

"So you do miss her. Why didn't you go back?"

"It's...really complicated." Lark rubbed at his already smudged eyes. "Really...goddamned complicated."

"Lark, please look at me." Able risked touching his shoulder.

The prince—his friend—complied and anxiously searched his eyes.

"I'm not angry with you," Able continued sincerely. "I'm not angry, and even if I was, I could never hurt you. I only want to know what happened. Please. Maybe I can even help you."

Lark's eyes fell. "...I do want to tell you. You deserve to know. I don't mean to stall, I just. Okay, so..." He sat up some so his legs were now crossed and rubbed his face for vigor. He still needed two breaths before he began.

"I was a pretty typical kid, bad at listening, always trying to get my own way. Made me an easy target, I think, since everyone knew I'd ditch my tutors and governess every opportunity I got and play in the fields or the gardens or the stables. Three masked men it was that surprised me out in the horse pasture.

"They caught me, gagged my mouth and bound my arms, and I was pretty terrified at first, but I got the idea that they didn't want to hurt me and would loosen the ties if I stopped struggling. I took to keeping very still and quiet so I could have my hands tied in front of me, and I didn't have to have that awful thing in my mouth.

"They carted me around with a bag over my head for ten nights, storing me away in sheds and suchlike during the day. Maybe they thought I couldn't tell. They made a big deal about me not seeing their faces, but I could identify them anyway to this day, even if they hadn't constantly been slipping up and calling each other by name. On the tenth day, we didn't go anywhere at all, but on the night of the eleventh, they put me on a boat. Your father's boat."

"The Provider." Able smiled, trying to be encouraging. "I remember that night too."

"I'm sure," Lark acknowledged with a somber nod. "I threw up in the bag within hours of us setting out. Better was really annoyed with me— he was always annoyed with me, whenever I had to pee or anything...anyway—while my captors were arguing with each other about what to do with me, your father took the bag off, cleaned me up, even gave me my hands back. I had seasickness most of the way, and he nursed me through it, and wouldn't let the others put the bag back on my head saying I needed the air. He told them if they were so worried about me seeing their faces that they could wear bags themselves."

The words echoed in the back of Able's mind, in his father's voice. He swallowed.

"He was looking after them, too, you know. We were twenty days at sea, and the men were constantly arguing about how to bypass the blockade. I was seasick, but they were scared sick. And Careful'd calm them down, talk them down...but I think they turned on him in the end. The pressure was too much and they forced him to try to make landfall that—that night.

"I wasn't lying about being asleep when it happened. I was exhausted, hadn't been able to eat pretty much the whole time. But I do know which side fired. It was Larbantry. The first shot missed, but it woke me up, and everyone started fighting over which flags to display or if to display any at all and run."

"Run?" Able scoffed and shook his head. The idea of that little ketch trying to out-pace a warship was...sickeningly sad.

"Careful was trying to run up a flag while Better and Fig were trying to get him to move the craft. The second shot shattered the mast and put a hole through the port side. We were taking on water, but not really listing yet. Fig had a shard of wood through his thigh and was bleeding everywhere. Careful was ignoring that to finally put the flag up, although Sober was screaming at him to help. Better was shouting too, something about not being taken alive."