Broken Throne (Red Queen #4.5)(61)

Ashe wastes no time and turns around with a snap. He waves Daria, Jem, and their children across the deck, gesturing to Hallow’s ship.

“Get your things. He’s your captain now,” he says, his words trembling with the weight of a command. Then he looks to his crew with the same fervor. “We make for the confluence. Lose him on the Great River. He’ll be beyond his own borders. Let him fight through the Freelands if he wants his princess so badly.”

His princess. I feel sick at the words, their implication. And their truth. Ashe is right: I belong to that foul person; I’ve belonged to him as long as I can remember. No matter what I have to say about it.

And still I feel the need to warn these Reds. “Orrian won’t be deterred by borders,” I say, pacing after Ashe.

He glares at me for a second. “Do I look stupid to you?” Leaning against the rail, he shouts to Hallow’s crew and his own. “Put out the word to every boat and raft you pass: there’s a Lakelander prince in our lands. That should set the bounty hunters foaming.”

Confusion steals over me. I narrow my eyes. “Bounty hunters?”

“You think smugglers are the only lawless kind in the Freelands?” he says, throwing me a dark smirk. “If the right bounty crew gets word of your prince, they’ll hunt him down before he can hunt you.”

I blink, trying to imagine what kind of bounty crew would be required to stop Orrian. But far from the Lakelands, with only his guards, without any kind of aid from his kingdom . . . It’s certainly a start.

I bite my lip, then nod. With one hand, I gesture for the rifle.

Ashe is quick to give it back.

“At least it’s a plan.”

The two keels move downriver at speed, putting a safe distance between us and Orrian’s assault point. He’ll be on the move again by now, but farther inland, away from the river’s edge. There’s no more cover on this stretch, and he’ll certainly be moving by transport. The roads are some miles north, giving us time to make up ground. We pause every fifteen minutes, giving Hallow time to get ahead of us. Hour by hour, the distance between the boats spreads, until he’s out of view even on the longest stretches of river. Our speed picks up too, between the motor and the strengthening current. I assume we must be getting close to the confluence, where the Ohius meets the Great River. Where no land, on either side of the water, answers to a Silver crown.

Every second ticks like a clock, grating inside my skull. I clench my teeth against the sensation. Two hours since the attack. Three. Four. I have the sneaking suspicion that Orrian is enjoying this. He always did like to play with his food. Hope is not something I’m used to, and while the captain seems to have faith in his river and his people, I cannot.

I’m glad the children are off the boat, and their mothers too. At the very least I won’t have them dragging at the back of my mind. They’re on a dangerous enough journey without adding a fugitive Silver to the equation.

I’m thinking of them when the captain eases up to me, this time with less of an attitude. He leans over the stern at my side, elbows planted on the rail. His sleeves are rolled up, showing more scars and fading bruises. River life is not easy for these people, not by a long shot.

“So, Orrian Cygnet.” There’s such disdain in his voice, even more than he expresses for me.

I sigh, looking at my hands. My fingers are crooked, broken so many times in my ability training that even skin healers couldn’t fix them properly. “He’s part of the royal line, close to the throne but not close enough for his own tastes.”

A shadow crosses Ashe’s face, even in the bright light of afternoon. “You know him well.”

“I know him well enough.” I shrug, remembering our few bitter encounters. He was quick to reveal himself as a terrible man. “We met a few times, and I found his character lacking.”

“I take it your uncle didn’t agree.”

Scoffing, I shake my head. “Oh, he knows Orrian’s nature. He just doesn’t care.” Next to me, Ashe flushes and I’m surprised. Reds are so strange, so emotional. “Just because you get secondhand news about Silvers doesn’t mean you know how we live.”

He smarts under the jibe, lashing out. “So you murdered six people and ran.”

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same?” I hiss at him, knowing the truth. My response is swift and cutting. As my words hang between us, I square to him, raising my chin so I can look him in the eye. Instead of the Red captain, I see six corpses laid out, their faces burned beyond recognition. Magida with them, her body in ashes.

He doesn’t hesitate. Ashe is not one to second-guess himself or his intentions. “I would have done the same.” Then he leans toward me, brave enough to put a finger in my face. As if scolding a child. We’re nearly the same age. “But I wouldn’t drag innocents into it.”

“Really?” I sneer, my voice rising. “And your friend? He’s running guns right now, isn’t he? With passengers on board. You telling me you’ve never done that?” His flush darkens, and I know I’ve scored a point in whatever silly game we’re playing. I keep pressing. “Odd, for a Red to be running guns this direction. The civil war and the Scarlet Guard are behind us.”

The captain doesn’t have a slick or smart response for that. His bravado falters, if only for a second. He probably didn’t even know his friend was running guns west—and therefore running guns for Silvers. Tiraxeans, Prairie lords, maybe even raiders farther west. Selling gunmetal to those who would kill him without blinking.