The Captive Kingdom Read online

  We paused as the doors opened and Imogen stepped into the room. Her gaze went from Roden to me, and if she sensed any tension, she simply said, “May we speak in private?”

  I turned to Roden, who dipped his head to Imogen. “Can we discuss this later?” I asked.

  His half-hearted shrug lacked the respect he had just shown Imogen. “We can discuss this for as long as you’d like. It won’t change anything. I will no longer be your captain.” Then he marched from the room and Tobias followed, promising he would try to talk to Roden.

  Imogen touched my arm. “What was that about?”

  After a deep breath to settle myself, I replied, “The usual foolishness. Nothing a few hours in the stocks won’t cure. Do we still use those?”

  Imogen frowned. “I see the servants were correct. They said that you’re in a foul mood.”

  “Not with you.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “With the entire rest of the world, then?”

  That was a fair question. I began counting on my fingers a review of names as they came to me. “Let me think: Roden — obviously. Mott, Tobias and Amarinda, Fink, Harlowe and Kerwyn, that man who opens the doors for me a second too late so he always bumps my shoulder.” I looked over at Imogen again. “I suppose you’re right. It is with the entire rest of the world.”

  “Well, you’ll have to get over it. There’s a formal supper beginning in one hour.”

  I took her hands in mine. “Let’s cancel everything. Maybe have a quiet supper together instead. Just you and me.”

  “We can’t cancel an hour before everyone arrives.”

  “We could run off somewhere and secretly marry.”

  “Where could a king possibly marry in secret?” She arched a brow. “Besides, you might have a good time at the supper.”

  “I might be struck by lightning as well. I’d prefer that, actually.”

  Her only reply was a soft sigh. “I heard Roden ask why you chose him as captain.”

  “He’s asked that several times since the war.”

  Imogen shrugged. “Maybe you haven’t given him the right answer yet.” Before I could speak, she added, “Roden fights as well as you … almost. He has a title as grand as yours … almost. He is a good leader … but no matter how hard he tries, he is still not you. Whether you realize it or not, Jaron, you cast a long shadow. Maybe Roden is tired of living in it.”

  “And how do I change that? Would you have me be less than I am?”

  Imogen considered that. “Roden is not you. But you are not Roden either. Help him to see that.” Then her face lit up. “I have an idea, one I know you’ll like.”

  “What is it?”

  “I won’t tell you until I’ve made arrangements, but I will give you one clue. When is the last time you snuck out of a ship’s porthole?”

  “When I was nearly eleven, on a trip to Bymar. But …” For the first time in days, my smile was genuine. I knew what her idea was and it was brilliant.

  And now, three weeks later, while being held captive on the Shadow Tide, I suddenly sat up straight and shook Roden’s arm to wake him up. “I know where Imogen is!”

  Roden rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on me. “Where?”

  “She must have escaped out the porthole to get on that lifeboat herself!”

  “She wouldn’t have exploded her own lifeboat.”

  “Imogen has watched me experiment with gunpowder enough to have a far better understanding of it than I do. She knew exactly how much to use to make it appear that it was a failed attempt at a real explosion. She was probably hiding directly beneath the stuffed figure, out of sight, escaping right beneath the Prozarians’ noses.”

  Roden shrugged. “All right, so maybe she did. And maybe Fink is with her. But Mott’s fist wouldn’t fit through the porthole. So where is he?”

  That was only one of a thousand questions still churning in my mind. I could breathe easier now about Imogen and Fink, and I hoped I was right. But I was more concerned than ever about Mott. He could not have been on that lifeboat.

  “What happened to him?” I mumbled.

  The door to our small room was unlocked and began to open. Roden looked over at me, his brows pressed close together. “Maybe for the next few minutes, we should worry about what might happen to us.”

  The man I had named Lump was the first to open our door again. When he did, I asked him about his strange name.

  He squinted back at me. “My name isn’t Lump.”

  “Are you certain?” I tilted my head and studied him. “Look at yourself. What other name could you possibly have?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. “Just call me Lump.”

  With a broad smile, I crossed to him and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Now I’m curious. If you are willing to let me call you Lump, then your actual name must be so much worse. What is it?”

  He pushed me away from him. “I’m here on Captain Strick’s orders. She’s about to give a welcome speech to the new crew. Then she wants you brought up one at a time for a public questioning and confession. To make an example of you both.”

  I let out a low whistle. “That sounds like torture.” I glanced over at Roden. “You’d better go first.”

  “Seriously?” I nodded at him and he grunted. “Very well. But I can tell you right now, no torture is necessary. I am Jaron.”

  Lump pulled Roden out of the cabin and shut and locked the door after him. Or at least, he thought he did. I had touched his shoulder with one hand. With the other, I had inserted a small amount of candle wax into the door frame, preventing it from latching shut, even when Lump turned the lock.

  I waited well over a minute to be sure they were gone, then opened the door a crack. From the sounds I heard, all crew members were on deck, just as Lump had suggested. Still, I crept out with great caution. Across from me was a room marked sick bay. That was probably where Tobias would be assigned.

  After passing his room, I reached the center area of the ship, which was loaded with bunks, stacked three high. It was a simple thing to swipe a Prozarian coat someone had hung from a rope to dry, and then to take the rope itself. From another bunk, I stole a hat and pressed it low on my head. I was digging through another bag in search of a weapon when I heard footsteps somewhere behind me.

  With nowhere to go, I froze, then heard a soft “oh” as I was spotted.

  A female voice said, “I thought all crewmen were supposed to be on deck.”

  Without turning around, I replied, “I’ll get back up there soon.”

  “Ah. Well, as a bit of advice, I wouldn’t steal from that crewman if I were you. He’s the meanest one.”

  I huffed and turned around, surprised to see a girl near my own age with long scarlet hair in a tangled braid that draped over one shoulder. Her natural beauty was evident, despite her dirty face and torn dress, and her eyes glistened with intelligence, though she quickly blinked that away, leaving only fear in her expression.

  “You must be Wilta,” I said.

  Her head tilted. “How did you know —”

  “Is Amarinda with you?”

  “Is that her name? She hasn’t spoken a word since she was brought into the captain’s quarters. I snuck down here to get her something to eat.”

  “Is she safe there?”

  Wilta tilted her head again, as if the question confused her. “Nowhere on this ship is safe.”

  “Are you in danger too?”

  She lowered her eyes. “I’m here as a punishment for leading a rebellion. The captain won’t let me die, but I cannot continue to live this way either.”

  “What are her plans for Amarinda?”

  “I don’t know. So far, Amarinda has been held in binds, but no harm has come to her.”

  Cautiously, I stepped forward. “Can you bring me to her? Can you help me get her off this ship?”

  Her only response was the last thing I wanted to hear. “You’re Jaron.” Something must have flashed in my eyes,
because she said, “I won’t tell anyone, but the captain will have the truth figured out sooner than you think.”

  “What does she want with me?”

  Wilta shrugged. “What does she want with any of us?”

  I studied her a moment longer. She did not look like she was from any of the lands near Carthya, but she spoke the common language, so she couldn’t have come from far away. “Where is your home?”

  “Belland. Have you heard of it?”

  I squinted, trying to remember if I’d ever heard of Belland. If my geography tutors had been more interesting, I might have stayed awake long enough to learn where it was.

  When I didn’t answer, she said, “Belland is a small country on the western side of the sea, though you can only reach it by water. It was formed by volcanoes hundreds of years ago.”

  “Is that where this ship is headed? Or somewhere else?”

  Hearing a sound from above, Wilta glanced back. “I should go.”

  I stepped forward again, keeping my hands low so as not to appear threatening. “You’re afraid, I understand that. But I have friends on this ship, and they’re afraid too. Can you help us?”

  Her eyes darted and she turned as if to leave, so I quickly added, “I know at one time the Prozarians were greatly feared. But I thought they went extinct years ago.”

  Wilta paused, confused again. “Why would you say that?”

  “I battled a Prozarian boy once. He told me so.”

  During my time as Sage, one of the other orphans in Mrs. Turbeldy’s Orphanage for Disadvantaged Boys was a Prozarian boy named Edgar. He was about the same age and build as my brother, so at first I had hoped we might become friends. But I quickly learned he was nothing like Darius in character. He had a stash of treasures he wouldn’t share with anyone — rolls of gold coins, a piece of glass art, an old ring of his father’s. I stole some of his coins once to buy food for the rest of us, which ended up making me his target. He began tying me up at night so that by the time I got untied in the morning, what little food there was had already been eaten. It was thanks to Edgar that I had become so quick at untying knots. And he later thanked me for making the knots tight the day I bound him in ropes and dangled him from the window. After I pulled him back in, we got along much better.

  Perhaps it was an exaggeration to have called that a battle, but I had won nonetheless. The only thing that confused me now was that in one of our conversations, Edgar had told me he believed his people were extinct. Maybe he was wrong.

  “Do the Prozarians have plans to invade Carthya?”

  “I don’t know. Though if they did, I think they simply would have invaded, not gone to the trouble of finding you.”

  Nor would that explain what they wanted with Amarinda. The captain had noticeably reacted to hearing her name, calling it a lucky thing to have found her.

  “What is the connection between Bymar and the Prozarians?” I asked.

  Wilta shrugged. “None that I know of.”

  Then I couldn’t think of any reason that they should have cared about Amarinda’s name, nor even have known it.

  Up on the main deck, a voice that sounded like Lump’s told everyone to quiet down and prepare to listen to the captain.

  “I need information,” I said. “Please help me.”

  She paused and straightened up, as if gathering her courage. “The Prozarians know about the war you won six months ago, which means I know a little about it too. Promise to do everything you can to free my people, and I’ll give you all the information I can find.”

  “Agreed.”

  Her eyes rose to the deck. “This is the first thing I can tell you. Your friend is up there. When she discovers he is not Jaron, she will kill him.”

  Wilta returned to the captain’s cabin through what must have been a secret stairway or some passage I had not yet found. But that was hardly my biggest concern.

  Dressed as a Prozarian and in the low light of hanging lanterns and a few small torches, it was a simple thing to sneak onto the deck and blend in with the others. On a casual glance, they shouldn’t recognize me.

  I sat in the back row of the Prozarians, which put me directly ahead of the pirates. Even dressed as I was and with my head down, when I looked back, several of the pirates gave me nods of recognition. Far to the right of the group was Tobias, who seemed to be attempting to communicate his thoughts through the intensity of his stare. I tried to return a thought as well, reminding him that he could stare at me until his eyes popped, but that still wouldn’t tell me what he was thinking.

  Instead of failing at mind games, I looked around for other options. Not far from me on the deck was a stack of unused torches, ones that the captain might need later in the voyage. I, however, needed one now. Scooting closer to them, I casually slid one inside my coat.

  Captain Strick stood at the edge of the forecastle deck. Roden was kneeling beside her, his hands once again bound behind his back. He was staring straight forward, trying to appear unafraid, but I knew him too well to believe his act. He was terrified.

  Captain Strick raised her arms to call for quiet, which wasn’t necessary since it was already ghostly calm on deck. When she lowered them, she began, “Prozarians, congratulations on your conquest! We are another step closer to the greatest of rewards!”

  The front half of the deck clapped and cheered for themselves. Nobody moved behind me.

  Strick addressed them next. “To the crew of the Red Serpent, you made a valiant attempt at defending yourselves. You showed courage and strength, the same qualities we seek in our warriors. To board this ship, you already gave me your vows of loyalty, but those are only words. Now I ask for your hearts as well, that you serve me because you believe in me, and our purposes.”

  She waited for more applause. None came.

  I would have considered applauding, but I was busy trying to casually cut a nearby rope, one that seemed to be holding an overhead beam in place. Also, I could not applaud for any speech that sent bile into my throat.

  “We serve the Monarch, so you now serve the Monarch. Our leader demands absolute obedience, but will recognize absolute loyalty.” With a sharper tone than before, Strick continued, “Disobedience will result in your punishment, or execution.” Now she turned to Roden. “Lie to me, and I’ll make you beg for execution.”

  My knife snapped through the final threads of the rope, which whipped up high into the air, causing the beam directly above me to swing out wide over the sea.

  Several Prozarians around me leapt to their feet, shouting orders at one another for how to retrieve the beam. But by then, I had already begun to climb the rope ladder. Others were climbing ladders too so there was nothing suspicious about what I was doing. And once I climbed high enough to be out of range of the lantern lights below, I became relatively invisible.

  I hoped.

  When possible, I stayed behind posts or used the crow’s nest for cover, but I knew where I was trying to go, and so I’d have to move slowly and stay low, and do everything possible to not be detected.

  Once the beam was retrieved and locked down again, Strick blamed the accident on sloppy knot tying and picked up where she had left off, with Roden.

  In a voice loud enough that I could hear even at my height, she said to Roden, “What is your country?”

  “Carthya,” he replied in an equally loud voice.

  “What is your name?”

  A pause. Then, “I am one of two people on this ship who could be named Jaron.”

  Beside Strick, Lump hit Roden across the back. Roden fell forward from his knees, nearly toppling down the stairs, but he straightened up again, with a more determined expression than before.

  “Name?”

  “I am one of two —”

  Lump hit him again, and this time he did roll down the steps to the deck. Strick followed. I withdrew the torch from my pocket and, along with it, the tinderbox. The oil in the torch would immediately light, if the tinderbox still had e
nough life in it to create a spark.

  Below me, Strick tried a different strategy.

  “If you are Jaron, tell me your parents’ names.”

  “Eckbert and Erin.” He straightened up and glared at her. “I had an older brother too, Darius, but all of them are dead now.”

  At Strick’s direction, Lump hit him again, which surprised me. There was no reason to have done it. Roden was still slumped over when Strick crouched beside him and took his right hand.

  “There is no king’s ring.”

  “I left it on the other ship.”

  I glanced down at my hand. I’d pocketed the king’s ring when we were boarded, but I replaced it now. Then I reached into the tinderbox for a badly worn piece of flint.

  But Strick smiled. “There is no evidence of a ring ever being on this hand. No discoloration of the finger, no impression on the skin.” She stood tall. “You are not Prince Jaron. What is your name?”

  His shoulders hunched. “I am Jaron.”

  “No, you are not.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You are very brave, and what I’ve seen from you thus far is perhaps the most courageous act of any person on this deck. I want you to know that I sincerely regret having to kill you now.”

  Now she turned to address her crew. “The first show of loyalty is to carry out my orders, so, pirates, I am giving you the chance to prove yourselves. Every one of you who gave me your oath today will administer one lash to this boy, this imposter, assuming he is still alive after everyone has had their chance.”

  “No one will touch him!” I shouted, now standing on the lower beam. It had taken four strikes of flint to light the torch, but now it was bright in my hands. I raised it toward the nearest sail. “You will listen carefully and do everything I say, or I will turn this ship to ashes.”

  Strick glanced up at me and folded her arms. “Prince Jaron, welcome to the Shadow Tide.”

  I leaned in, certain I had not heard her address me correctly. “Pardon?”

  She squinted. “I welcomed you here, Prince Jaron.”

  “Ah. No, I’m King Jaron. I’m a king. We even had a ceremony to make it official. Which is a problem for you. To capture a king is an act of war.”