3199 A.Y.
Everything stopped when the ballroom doors were thrown open. The musicians fell silent, dancers froze in their steps, and conversation ceased entirely. Everyone was staring at the stairs of the grand entrance, where Ashen of Azure descended.
The newcomer had wavy light red tresses that flowed easily down her shoulders. Her arms, easily viewed through the clear silver sleeves, were lean and taut with well-defined muscles. A silver chain hung around her neck, though its pendant was out of sight, tucked neatly into the chest area of her gown. The dress was a fine one, made of blue silk, with a sheer silver overcoat. The hem of the dress brushed the floor, keeping everything under her waist out of sight.
When she reached the main floor of the grand room, the nearest men abandoned their partners and rushed at the newcomer. They all vied for her attention, trying in vain to earn her affection, none of them noticing how hers and the prince’s eyes had locked from so far apart.
The prince leaned forward in his throne. A handsome man with tan skin, dark eyes, and hair roughly the same dark color, he was accustomed to being around beautiful women. Most of the nobility were blessed with fine looks and wealth. What did shock him was the color of the maiden’s dress, a light blue, the color of the kingdom’s greatest enemy.
A collective gasp echoed through the room when the prince stood, his green cloak fluttering as its hem hit the floor. The ball, a celebration of his recent engagement to his cousin, had started hours ago, and despite the attempts to persuade him otherwise, the prince had remained on his throne. Now, though, he passed through the crowd. Everyone stepped back, giving him a clear path to the newcomer.
“I believe this poor woman has had enough,” he called out, his face spreading into a lazy smile. “There are plenty of other lovely maidens. I see no need to harass this one.”
Grudgingly, the suitors returned to their disgruntled partners, but the dancing did not resume. Everything remained still and silent, the people of Viridian anxious to see whether the prince would attempt to claim the woman. The woman could sense the tension, and, in an effort to ease it, smiled back at the monarch.
The prince’s eyes seemed to glow, as did those of many of the males in the room. There was a subtle blue glare over each pair of eyes as they stared at the woman. She suppressed a smirk.
Her spell had worked.
“I apologize for the behavior of my people,” he said, kissing her hand. When he bowed, a thin, long scar was visible on his forehead, the only blemish, and a minor one at that.
The prince continued, “You would think they were a pack of wolves rather than the finest gentlemen in Viridian, probably the world.”
Titling her head slightly, Ashen smiled. A lock of her light red tresses strayed into her face. She easily brushed it aside. “Do not apologize for the behavior of others, even your own people. You seem to be minding yourself.”
“Yes, but I know not how long I can hold off when I am in the presence of such a lovely young woman.”
“I am sure you will try,” she replied.
“In vain, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. She smiled again. “I suppose you are Prince Emlen, future king of Viridian, the esteemed Pirate Slayer. That is quite a title.”
“Yes, but I am far more interested in what title you possess, milady.”
With a slight laugh, she replied, “I am no royal, nor noble, and have no title to my name.” She smiled. “I would not care to, anyhow. It seems so tiresome, having such a terribly long string of words to accompany a rather short name.”
Emlen laughed. “What then, may I call you, if you have no title?”
Smiling, she said, “Most do not get a chance to call me anything, and when they do, it is usually unrepeatable, but I suppose Ashen will do.”
“A fine name for a fine lady.”
“A fine lady who would like her hand back,” she said.
Emlen blushed, realizing he hadn’t let go of her hand. Everyone in the ballroom chuckled and their prince hastened to drop Ashen’s hand.
“I apologize.”
“Don’t,” she said, “but I might let you make it up to me.”
“Would you accept a dance?”
“You just gave me my hand back and now you want to take it again.”
Emlen laughed and smiled, “Can you blame me?”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you. Very well, I accept.”
The music began again almost immediately. The prince couldn’t very well dance to utter silence. Once Ashen and Emlen began their dance, others joined them. Within a minute the ball was back in session, as if nothing had interrupted it to begin with.
Ashen let the prince lead her through the dance. She didn’t like to be led by anyone, especially not someone with his history, but she made an exception. The night had to move seamlessly. That meant letting a man control her.
“So?” Emlen asked quietly. “What kingdom do you hail from? Certainly not mine, no one living in Viridian would deign to wear blue.”
“I was born in Azure,” she admitted, lowering her voice to a whisper, “but I spent most of my life at sea with my father.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“It was, until my mother died.”
“That’s dreadful.”
“Yes, that’s more like it.”
“Were things ever the same?” He winced. “That was foolish, and insensitive. I should be flogged for forgetting my manners in the presence of a lady.”
“There was no offense, I assure you, and no, things never were the same. My father has not been himself since her death. His quartermaster, Smiegal, has been incredible to me. I am grateful for him and my father’s entire crew.”
“It is nice,” Emlen agreed, “when people who really knew and cared about them are able to take care of you.”
“Is that what happened when your parents died?”
The previous king had been killed by a pirate eight years ago. His wife, horrorstruck, had committed suicide, leaving her son in the care of his uncle.
“I wish that was what had happened,” he said, turning solemn. “King Ignacio, he is not fond of me.”
“It might hurt him to look at you. Do you resemble his elder brother?”
He laughed coldly. “We share the common looks of our people: brown hair, medium skin, and brown eyes. Otherwise, there is the family gift.”
Every kingdom’s royal family had a gift. The Azurians could perform spells ranging from pitiful to impressive depending on how close they were to the direct line. Viridians had minor elemental abilities. Most of their royals could barely control one element. Even the most powerful struggled to control a single one of the four.
Ashen did not reply. She was focused on the room. She had never been in the presence of such grandeur. The chandelier glinted, with torchlight reflecting off each diamond crystal. She suspected it had cost thousands, waste of finances. An equal if not larger waste was the ornamented staircase, the rail carefully sculpted. It was so elegant, she doubted it would even hold your weight. She glanced down at her heels. If she was lucky, she would not have need of it.
The stone walls were painted a brilliant shade of gold. Deep green tapestries covered every other panel of the wall. She noticed there were no windows. This did not come as a surprise. The Viridian palace was created to be a fortress during the early, chaotic days of the kingdom. It was merely a territory in those years, a territory in habited by the bloodthirsty ancestors of the only slightly less violent modern Viridians.
Everything about the ballroom screamed wealth. It did belong to the royal family, but she had thought the Viridians were above, or rather, below wasting expenses on such trivial things. The idea of converting a military base into the center of your civilization suggested so.
As she scanned the room, she began to get more and more dizzy. Emlen was spinning her, like every male spun his respective partner. How they did not all puke, Ashen did not know. Fortunately, the spinning came to an end and the regular dance continued.
Shifting her position, Ashen’s eyes fell on a woman standing a good deal away from the dance floor. The woman’s chin had an upward tilt to it. Her eyes were what Ashen believed to be the color of chocolate, although she had never indulged herself in the treat herself, nor seen it. The darkness of her eyes and the paleness of her skin went surprisingly well with her long black hair, which had been pulled from her face in multiple bunches. Her dress was quite possibly the least wasteful thing Ashen had seen in the entire room. The gown was a deep green with golden threads making plain patterns. It was a rather basic dress, nothing like the extravagant fashions of the others. Was this woman a servant? Impossible. No one of such a low political status would be permitted to merely stand about observing the event.
“Who is she?” Ashen inquired before she could stop herself. She did not need to be diverting his attention.
Emlen gave the woman half a glance before his eyes returned to Ashen. “Neveianca, my cousin.”
Ashen’s eyebrow rose of its own accord. Neveianca was not simply Emlen’s cousin. She was the current king’s daughter and Emlen’s future bride. The Viridians had a tradition of marrying royalty, no matter how close or distant they were. With Neveianca’s father being ill, the Grand Duke wished Emlen to be ready to ascend to the throne at any moment. This included having a queen and therefore the possibility of an heir.
Of course she would be watching them.
“Does she bother you?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to reply, but was unable to when the music grew much louder, the song and dance changing.
“Would you like to continue our discussion in a more private place?” Emlen asked, glancing around.
She followed his gaze and saw that a good deal of people besides his cousin were staring at them. Women had their eyes on the prince while men where avidly waiting for the mysterious girl in the blue gown to lose interest in her current partner.
“Would we be able to disappear without someone coming after us?”
“I fear you are right. Men would come charging forth, resuming their quest to claim you for themselves.”
Ashen laughed.
“Never mind. We will just have to lose them if they do pursue us.”
She let him lead her away from the dancers. Several people did look tempted to follow, but their partners pulled them back, trying not to claim a better companion but to maintain the one they had.
They had reached the door when someone stepped in front of them. He had the Viridian’s traditional appearance, including the muscles honed from warring and training, though his hair was more black than brown. His right eye was concealed with a golden eye patch and the one that was visible was a brown-green. He was the only one besides a guard who had a sword sheath on his belt. He wore a green blazer with gold buttons, black trousers, and black boots. A golden pin rested over his heart, but Ashen did not know what it meant.
“Carting off this poor maiden?” he asked. “Hardly seems polite.” His comment may have been intended as a joke, but his face was rigid and his voice serious.
Emlen smiled, clearly taking it as a humorous statement, rather than one of any truth.
“We would just like to get away from all of the attention,” he told the man.
As if to prove his point, china smashed somewhere across the room. A drunken guest was stumbling about, running into people and things. Quite the typical Viridian, she thought.
The man’s jaw tightened and his hand instinctively moved to his sword, which was mostly concealed in a sheath adorned with elegant designs. Noticing his gesture, Ashen realized he was a solder, perhaps a member of the Viridian Guard. A good deal of soldiers had the similar inclination to reach for their blade when the sensed danger. To be attending the ball rather than working it implied he had a high position in the armed forces, perhaps Captain of the Viridian Guard, or General of the Viridian Army. The sophistication of his sheath and the hilt of his sword, with had at least five or six emeralds embedded in it implied the former than the latter.
“That seems rather unlikely,” he replied, “The announcement is at midnight, which is in only ten minutes. Neveianca will be looking for you.”
“Could you delay her, and anyone else who might come after us, just long enough for us to talk?”
The man raised his eyebrows, or rather, eyebrow, as one was covered by his eye patch.
“Talking? Alright, then, I can distract a few of the nobles, ones that might go looking.”
“With your charismatic personality, I’m sure we’re covered,” Ashen said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“An Azure, how delightful,” he replied derisively.
Hoping to smooth the tension, Emlen said, “This is Peder, my brother and Captain of the Viridian Guard.”
“So you are a soldier,” she said, shaking his hand briefly, “delightful.”
Peder glanced towards Emlen and pretended to lower his voice to a whisper, “Is it wise to trust this woman, an Azure?”
Ashen flashed him a smile. “Most people find me actually quite charming. You know, for an Azure.”
“Unlikely.”
Emlen put his arm around her waist.
“Peder, I appreciate what you’re doing.”
“As do I,” she agreed, turning to leave. The captain stopped her.
“Might I have your name, Azure?”
She flashed him a smile. “Ella, my name is Ella.”
If the prince was puzzled by her use of a false name, he didn’t show it. He led her out of the ballroom, giving smiles to a few nobles who happened to glance in their direction.
Once they were away from everyone, he inquired, “Ella, I see.”
“Not Ella, Ashen,” she reminded him.
“Then why did you lie to Peder?”
“I did not feel comfortable giving him my real name. He is quite,” she paused, looking for a polite word, “interesting.”
“He doesn’t trust most people, with good reason,” Emlen explained. “Despite our family tradition of keeping the blood within our line, almost every noble has been trying to marry off their daughters to me. Distant cousins have made attempts on my life numerous times. He is always vigilant because he always has to be.”
“Yes, but,” she paused again, carefully choosing her words, “he did not seem to like me very much.”
Laughing, Emlen asked, “Are you upset he didn’t shower you with affection?”
“Well, yes, actually, it is quite strange.”
He laughed again. “My goodness. And you seemed so modest earlier.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “It is not like that; it is . . . what is his gift?”
Emlen frowned. “It’s the same as everyone else in our family. Well, he controls the wind, whereas I control water, but . . .”
She cut him off. “He controls the wind, not just influences it?”
Shaking his head, Emlen amended, “Peder isn’t any stronger than the rest of us. He’s just got his gift fine-tuned.”
Ashen glanced back at the ballroom skeptically. Peder was nowhere to be seen, already fulfilling his duty to his soon-to-be-king.
“Why are you so curious?”
“I’m a curious girl,” she said.
“I suppose so.”
Emlen stopped walking in front of the nearest door. He opened the door and Ashen peeked inside. It was the music room. She wrinkled her nose. She had no interest in music. Her hobby was a little more exciting.
“It’s pretty,” she lied.
The room was not very fine at all. Instruments stood in stands at the end of the room. Tapestries on the wall displayed normal looking instruments surrounded by music notes. The floor and walls were a plain stone, like most palaces. Not that Ashen had seen many castles. She had been inside one twice before, neither time as a guest.
“It’s alright,” Emlen said. “The people of Sienna favor the arts, so they have entire corridors dedicated to specific musical talents. They played a mourning tune at my parents’ funeral. It was lovely.”
“I am sure it was,” Ashen said.
“What about your mother’s funeral?” he asked.
“Oh, I am sure her parents hired a Siennan musician, but I was not welcome to attend.”
Shocked, Emlen inquired, “Why would they forbid you to come?”
“They didn’t know about me, and they hated my father,” she replied. Looking at the chairs lined up at the wall, she frowned, noticing a curved sword, like a hook, or a scythe.
“Is that . . . ?” she asked, stepping towards it.
Emlen reached for it and picked it up. Ashen saw that it had a sapphire embedded in each side of the hilt. It was an Azurian weapon. Her green eyes flashed.
Emlen held it out to her.
“I left this in here, away from the ball. It tends to draw unwanted attention. It was the sword of the pirate who killed my father,” he told her. “I won it from him when I killed his wife. Did you know that pirate captains usually make themselves a unique sword? This one is supposed to cause more pain when it wounds you. I don’t know if it does. Its previous owner, Captain Jaymes of the Jolly Roger, didn’t give me a single blow. It was barely a fight, hardly worthy of the title revenge.”
“You killed his wife because he killed your father,” Ashen repeated. “You truly are the one who killed the esteemed pirate, the wife of Captain Jaymes?”
Emlen nodded.
Ashen continued, “You’ve killed a lot of pirates, haven’t you? That’s how you got the title ‘Pirate Slayer’.”
“It is,” the prince said.
“Before the pirates, it was magical beings, whether they were royal, like the Azurian sorcerers, or not, like the Faeries and Enchanters,” she said.
Enchanters were Azurians who, though they had no relation to the royal family, could perform magic like a sorcerer. They were believed to have been bestowed their powers by the devil and were scorned and often banished.
“We’re a hunting, warring people,” he told her. “The only way to keep us from having a civil war is . . .”
“If you hunt other people,” Ashen finished. “You give your people permission to kill people, to hunt them down like animals! In fact, you and your family encourage them to murder other people brutally, all so they can bring home things like this!”
She threw Captain Jaymes’ sword at the wall. It stuck there where it hit. Emlen stared at it.
“You’re alright with a blade,” he commented. He had no prejudice against females, but like his people he had a tendency to underestimate them. In a society as brutal as theirs, the fragility of a female was considered a weakness, a personal flaw to be used against the lesser gender.
Ashen knew he wanted to divert her from the subject of pirates. He wanted to distract her from his own history, his own killings and murders. To be fair, she had been getting increasingly emotional. She could not afford that, so she decided to take his bait.
“I’m better than alright with a blade,” she said. She lifted the front of her dress. Reaching into her heeled silver boot, she pulled out something.
The Azure now held a sword made entirely of glass, its blade reflecting light from the torches. Its hilt was made of some sort of stained black glass with sapphires embedded in its side. It was two of a kind, one of a set of dual swords.
“Incredible,” Emlen said, reaching for it. Ashen let him take it easily, let the hilt slid from her fingers. “How did you come across this?”
“I made it,” she confessed. “It’s completely unique. Well, it has a sister, but she isn’t our concern.”
Nodding, Emlen examined the blade. He could not help but be amazed by the craftsmanship. Perhaps females did not have as many shortcomings as he believed.
“It’s almost weightless. This really is glass, isn’t it?”he asked, running his finger along its edge. A welt of blood appeared where it touched. It was sharper than most metal swords were, and not as fragile as you would expect it to be.
“If it looks like glass, it is.”
He stopped looking at her sword and stared at her.
“You got to impress me with your sword,” she whispered, walking closer to him. “I wanted to impress you with mine.”
Emlen smiled and began examining the blade. Ashen put her hands on the hilt and, with a sweet smile on her face, lurched forward. Emlen gasped as the sword impaled him.
“Oh dear,” Ashen said, staring at the blood oozing from his chest, “It missed the heart. I was rather hoping for a quick death.”
He fell forward, but she kept him upright, grabbing him roughly.
“I would advise you not to scream,” Ashen told him as his blood oozed in between her fingers. Her voice was hushed, as if telling a secret “I have another one of these, remember? It’s in my other boot. If someone comes for you, it will be Peder. I would really enjoy killing him. I might make it last a little longer, prolong the enjoyment of it. Sadly, with you, I only have until midnight.”
“Why?” he asked hoarsely, groping at his front. His eyes, no longer tainted with blue, were wide with shock and fear. He was petrified as she wretched her blade out of his chest. The glass grinded against the chest plate that had further prevented a quick kill. She had anticipated this, as she had anticipated how easy it would be to deceive him.
Ashen walked circles around him, admiring her work. Emlen gasped when Ashen plunged her sword back into the same spot.
“I have waited eight years, trainedeight years, to finally kill you, yourmajesty,” she said with a sneer as she sliced into him. “I wonder, do you prepare so much before your murders? Before your assassinations?” Emlen started to fall forward, but she stopped him.
“It’s almost midnight. You had better die quickly.”
She thrust the blade through him again, allowing it to remain in his chest for a few seconds before sliding it out again.
Emlen tried to cry out, but he had no breath left. The prince fell forward onto his face. She ripped the corner of his cloak and used it to clean the blood off her hands. She grabbed the chain around her neck and used it to pull out a small, crystal-like shard of glass. Clutching it, she cast a simple concealing enchantment that hid the sword from view—it was not going back into her boot so dirty.
After a moment’s hesitation, she concealed and took Emlen’s sword too. She hadn’t seen it since he stole it eight years ago. She had not seen it since she vowed to kill him. Clutching the sword caused the blood left on her hands to well between her fingers. She barely noticed it, her mind in the past.
Brushing away the memory, Ashen hurried to the doorway. She closed the door behind her. With a smile, she thought of the formally drab room with its formally drab floors. The blood would make them a little more colorful, she thought.
She moved like a blur across the ballroom, avoiding nearly everyone. She glanced around and saw Peder walking briskly towards her. He couldn’t know yet, or they would have run into each other on her way out, which meant he wanted to find Emlen for the announcement. It was midnight now; she had taken too long. She dodged him and ran to the front gates. He followed her.
Running as fast as she could in her heeled boots, Ashen stopped just outside the palace doors. Peder was catching up to her, and calling for her. If the guards heard and came running . . . she couldn’t take that chance.
She whirled around, whispering a muffling spell. It would prevent anyone from hearing them.
Peder reached her and eyed her suspiciously. She smiled at him.
“You seem quite determined to speak to me, for someone who dislikes me so,” she said.
His eye narrowed. The eye patch was a little unsettling. She had only ever seen one other person with one, and he had died at the hands of the man whose sword she clutched in her left hand.
“It is time for the announcement,” he stated. “You must know the reason for this ball. Just because his majesty showed an interest in you doesn’t mean he won’t . . .”
He trailed off. He was staring at her hand. She had kept them mostly hidden by her gown. She glanced down surreptitiously. No blood was showing, other than on her sword, and he couldn’t see it.
Could he?
She faked a frown. “Are you alright, Captain?”
“I was just thinking it might be wise to have you escorted out by a guard, in case any of your previous attention hounds show up.”
He was lying. His elbow had gone taut. Recognizing his tell from earlier, she knew he was bracing himself for a fight.
He had been immune to her charming spell. He could most likely see the swords.
She smiled, then swung at him. He pulled his sword free of its sheath just in time to block. It was decent block, for a rushed one. Their blades parried badly. She didn’t want to imagine what he could do with ample time.
The answer came quickly. He spun and swung down at her feet. She blocked his blow effectively, turning her defense into an offensive strike that narrowly missed his ear. In fact, a drop of blood told her she had nicked it after all.
Usually, Ashen took everything into an account in the possible event of a fight. This time, however, she had neglected something important. Her sword, covered in blood, had a slippery blade. Drops of the prince’s blood slid down to the hilt. She almost dropped it when her opponent slammed it too hard. Peder’s eye widened, realizing this.
Rather than striking her sword again, which she could have predicted and easily countered, Peder hit her wrist with the flat of his sword. A small line of blood appeared when his blade had been. He pressed hard and more blood bubbled at the surface of her skin. She scowled and swung at his chest. His blow had distracted her though, and she missed. Her bad aim, the excessive force of her swipe, and the increase of blood around her hand cultivated in the extreme loosening of her blade. The next time she went to parry, the sword slipped from her hand.
She went to bring up Captain Jaymes’s sword and stopped. She ducked a blow from Peder and hurried down the steps. In his surprise to her retreat, he didn’t immediately pursue her. He began to call for the guards—in vain—as she dashed through the palace gates. A single guard waited on the other side. She slammed the butt of her sword into his solar plexus and he slumped against the marble pillar. Hiking up her gown, she leapt into the carriage that had brought her there.
How long will it take him to have horses mounted? Ashen wondered.
She leaned forward and opened the curtain that let her speak to the driver. Her friend, Smiegal, her father’s quartermaster and hers as well, was sitting there, the charming spell wearing off of him too, not that he needed it. With dark hair, dark, soulful eyes, a muscular build, and a fine face to go with his lovely body, he had no trouble appealing to woman. They couldn’t be too careful though, so Ashen had used the spell.
“Ashen,” he said, not looking at her, “is it finished?”
“Aye, it is, but we have to get back to the ship.”
She didn’t let herself panic. The plan was still working greatly, even with the loss of her sword. If it continued to run this flawlessly . . . Well, she couldn’t afford to think that far, not with so much at stake.
“Are you strong enough for the spell?”
“Kind of you to worry after me, but I’m fine.”
Smiegal stopped the carriage. They were not far from the harbor, but didn’t want to risk being caught. They released the horses, letting them be free. Smiegal stroked the carriage and it began to revert back into its original shape, a birch tree. Once there was no trace of the carriage ever being there, Ashen, reaching into the front of her dress, finding her pendant, whispered the return spell.
She pictured the ship in her mind. It was a large ship, quite capable of overpowering most trading vessels. She could see the flag, black, with crossbones. Rather than a skull above them, however, it was a hook, a warning to other pirate ships about who was on board. Lastly, she thought of the writing on the side of the hull, the engraving The Jolly Roger.
Seconds passed, then she was sitting with Smiegal on her bed below the deck of her father’s ship, now hers. The familiar salty scent of the sea filled her lungs. With a sigh, she collapsed onto her bed, closing her eyes and letting the creaking of the old wood lull her into serenity.
Sadly, none of them, especially her, could afford to rest. As long as they were in Viridian waters, they were in danger. She sat up rather reluctantly, stuffing her pendant out of view into her dress.
“What should I tell the crew, Captain?” Smiegal asked. Now that they were back on her ship, he resumed his habit of calling her by the title her father had previously held, and the one she herself now held.
Looking up at him, Ashen said, “Tell them it’s done. The Prince of Viridian is dead and we need to get to safe waters.”
“Should we set a course for Ebony?”
“Aye, tell the crew.”
Smiegal nodded and began to walk to the door.
“And Smiegal,” she said.
“Aye, captain?”
“Thank you for helping me,” she said. “Thank you, to all of you.”
“We wanted him dead to,” Smiegal said, “but I will tell them all the same.”
She nodded and let him leave.
Immediately, she stripped down to her undergarments. A whisper of a spell turned her new heeled boots into their true form. Her dress, which had regrettably cost a small fortune, would be pawned off at the first trading post they happened across. Ashen stuffed it into one of many loose floorboards for the present time. She put on a plain black outfit and her boots, a style which she preferred to gowns of lace and silk and mile-high heeled slippers.
Using a mirror she’d recently acquired, she successfully removed the powdery-substance that had been the charming spell. Most of the men who had seen her at the ball would not recognize her without it, as it had changed her appearance almost entirely. For someone more fetching, it would have only perfected their less desirable features. More work was needed, though, to make her appealing.
She was not ugly, but she made little to no effort to be pretty. A pirate captain didn’t need looks; they needed skills and wit, which she had more of anyway.
Ashen’s only fear was Peder. He had, somehow, been immune to her enchantment. Only magical beings had a better immunization to them. They weren’t completely foolproof; otherwise Peder wouldn’t have let the prince run off with an Azure. But he had not been utterly transfixed by her, which was what the spell usually did. If he was somewhat invulnerable to her magic, it was possible he would recognize her. She doubted it, but it was better for them to get out of Viridian immediately.
She heard footsteps at the door and withdrew her sword. A male’s voice chuckled and she recognized it. She hadn’t heard it in years, eight years.
“George,” she exclaimed, dropping the mirror and rushing towards him. They embraced tightly.
“Are you alright, Ash?” he asked, using her childhood nickname. She hadn’t heard it in years either, not since her mother Arrow had died.
She stared at him, looking for some sort of change. He still had light red hair streaked with a subtle black, brown eyes, and a scar running down the right side of his face.
“I did it, George,” she told him excitedly. “I finally did it.”
He didn’t smile; hearing that your daughter had become a murderer was never reason for delight, even in their lifestyle. He did seem to be doing better, thought, which Ashen hoped meant she truly had done a good thing.
“Where is your sword?” he asked, noticing she had only one.
Grimacing, she admitted, “I had to leave it behind.”
His face fell and she knew he was disappointed. Her heart beat faster. He couldn’t be angry, could he?
“It’s alright,” he told her. “You can make another.”
Her eyes widened. When he had lost his blade, his unique sword, he hadn’t remade it. He refused remake a sword that had failed him. She had expected him to think she would believe the same.
But he didn’t.
Suddenly remembering Emlen’s sword, she smiled and walked over to where it lay on the bed, no longer concealed.
“I did recover this, though,” she said, still smiling. She whirled around, showing it to him. He took it gingerly. She had been a little worried about his reaction. She had worried that he would no longer want it, just as he had not wanted to remake it.
To her relief and joy, the corner of his mouth twitched. It was not an outright smile, but it was closer than he had come in years. Ashen could not help but smile herself. She extended his sword to him.
“Captain Jaymes,” she said, using the false name he had given himself years before, “you’re a pirate again.”
