Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(6)

Brody froze like a rabbit under the eye of a snake.

“No!” Evan shouted, leaping forward so he stood next to Brody, even though his neck burned like fury. “Captain Strangward said to shove off. You’d better do it or your fancy ship’ll be nothing but splinters on the beach.” To his mortification, his voice cracked and trembled.

The empress crowed with laughter. “Who’s this, now, Strangward? Your smallest bodyguard? Someone with a harder spine than you?”

With that, Evan drew his throwing knife and sent it flying. It was a good throw, and it would have hit Siren’s deck, anyway, had it not slammed into the empress’s invisible barrier and gone pinging off into the sea.

Strangward was not amused. “Get below, boy, before I break every bone in your body,” he roared, backhanding him across the face. “Abhayi! Get this whelpling out of my sight.”

Somehow, Evan was back on his feet again, seized with a cold fury. He could feel blood trickling down his chin, his lip swelling, his magemark ablaze. None of it mattered. Raising his curved Carthian blade, he adopted a fighting stance.

The empress stood, head cocked, like a patron watching a disappointing act at the fair. Then sent flame roaring straight at him. Evan lifted both his hands and desperately pushed out, as if he could shove death away.

As it turned out, he could. The torrent of flames slowed, like a ship sailing into a stiff opposing wind. They piled higher and higher, then crested and flooded back toward the Siren, grazing her side and setting her rigging on fire. Her crew stood frozen, gaping, then rushed to quench the flames before they spread.

Celestine stood, eyes wide, seeming more intrigued than frightened. “I’ll be gutter-strummed,” she said. “There’s more to you, boy, than meets the eye.” She looked from Evan to Strangward and back again. “Ah,” she said. “I see it now. I should have known you’d have at least one of the ratlings with you.” She motioned to Evan. “Come here, boy, and let me have a better look at you.”

Evan stood, shaking his head, and the medallion on the back of his neck seethed and burned. He raised his blade again. “You come here, and get a taste of this, witch,” he said.

She laughed. “Magelings should never throw stones at witches.”

The tip of Evan’s blade dropped a little. “Mageling?”

“Didn’t you know? There’s magic in you, boy.”

Evan was so flummoxed that all he could come back with was, “I’m not a boy. You’re not much older than me.”

“That’s true,” she said. “We should be friends, not enemies. What’s your name?”

“Don’t listen to her,” Strangward said. “They don’t call her the Siren for nothing.”

But Celestine stayed focused on Evan. “What’s the matter? Has Captain Strangward been holding out on you? He hasn’t told you his real reasons for bringing you on and keeping you close? He hasn’t told you who you really are?”

All of the questions that had been seething deep inside Evan came boiling to the surface. Such as why he’d been chosen over bigger, stronger street-rats. Why his captain always sent him belowdecks when they encountered another ship. Why he’d never been allowed to join in the fighting.

“At least I’ll tell you the truth,” Celestine said. “You carry Nazari blood—the heartsblood of the empire. You have a magical heritage that goes back centuries. Strangward wants to keep you to himself, but you belong at my side.”

“Maybe he carries your blood, Celly,” Strangward said, “but he’s my blood, too.”

Now it was Evan’s turn to look between his captain and the empress. No. It wasn’t possible. Strangward had plucked him off the streets of Endru, ganging him onto his crew. Evan had gone along, because it was, after all, a bed, and a roof, and food in his belly, with the promise of shares later on.

He’d started out an orphan, and now he had two of his relations fighting over him.

If I’m his blood, why did he never tell me? Did he not want me to make any claim on him? And how, exactly, are we connected?

More importantly, if he had royal blood, and Strangward knew it, why had he kept it secret?

Celly crooked a finger at Evan. “Come here. Let me see how you’re marked.”

Involuntarily, Evan reached for his neckline. Then forced his hand away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. Captain Strangward has lied to you, and betrayed you. Come serve me, and I’ll teach you all about how to use your magic.”

Evan took a tentative step forward, as if pulled by an invisible tether. Then somebody wrapped a muscled arm around him, pinning his arms to his sides, lifting him so his feet barely touched the deck. He felt the bite of a blade at his throat. It had to be Abhayi, but he couldn’t fathom why.

“No!” Celestine said, panic flickering across her face. The empress extended her hands as if she could reach across the water between them.

“Leave off, Celestine,” Strangward said, his voice flat, “or the boy dies.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Celestine said, licking her lips in a way that suggested she thought he just might. “You wouldn’t murder a child.”

“I would, to keep him out of your hands,” Strangward said.