Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(65)

“You allowed the palace guards to search the armory,” I say. “They reported it was well stocked.”

“And you don’t trust the palace guards?”

No, but I’m not going to admit that. Just the words send a chill down my spine. We already suspected something was amiss with the palace guards, but until this moment, I hadn’t considered that this journey might be part of it.

I shake off the worry before it can manifest in my voice. “Personally,” I say smoothly, “I’d like a little more insight as to what’s inside.”

“No.”

It’s so uncommon for me to run headfirst into a flat refusal that I’m more intrigued than irritated. “No? Why?”

“For the same reason I refused to have sailors on board or ships sailing behind. I’m not giving you or your people access to a room full of weapons that can be used against my crew.”

I stare at him in the flickering lantern light, listening to the splash of water against the hull.

“My guards have weapons,” I say.

“I expected them to have weapons.”

“Then we don’t need yours.”

“Exactly. The contents of the armory are unnecessary all around.”

His voice is so calm, so reasonable, that it’s making my demands feel unreasonable. I can’t tell if he’s hiding something or if his worries are genuine. I wish I had Rocco at my back right now. Kilbourne will defend me without hesitation, but I’ve learned that Rocco is a good partner from an offensive angle.

But it bothers me that Rian is refusing to open the door to what must be a simple room.

“I demand that you open the door to your armory, Captain Blakemore. That is an order. I am here by the authority of the king.”

He holds up his left hand, and his ring, the one bearing my father’s seal, catches the light. “So am I.”

Fury swells in me, hot and sudden. “My father is dead. Any power granted by that order is rescinded.”

“No, it’s not. The order is very clear that it’s backed by the Crown, not the man wearing it. King Harristan took no action to rescind my authority. I still bear the ring. I still carry the letter.”

My heart is pounding. I’m thrown, scrambling, trying to find my footing again. Was this an oversight? Did Harristan forget?

I clearly did.

“Turn back,” I say. “Return to Artis. We can resolve this with Harristan right now.”

“I will not sail directly into a storm because you’re in a pique over a locked door,” he says, and his voice is grudgingly tolerant, as if I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum. “If you wish to dock in Sunkeep and send word to your brother, so be it. I will continue on to Ostriary and inform their king that you were belligerent and obstinate, and you delayed negotiations because I wouldn’t give you a key to a room you truly have no need to access.”

My fingernails are biting into my palms. My pulse pounds in my ears now. I’m afraid to move, because I really might throw a punch.

“Captain!” a voice calls from above. “Marchon needs you at the helm.”

Rian takes a step back. “We’ll be nearing Port Karenin in a day or so,” he says. “Inform me of your decision then.” He pauses, then holds out the lantern to my guard. “I’ll leave you with the light, Your Highness.”

I hate him.

The instant I have the thought, I remember how many times Tessa thought those exact same words about me.

“Captain,” I call, when he’s nearly to the stairs.

For an instant, I don’t think he’ll stop, but he does. “Yes?”

“You’ve gotten the wrong impression of me,” I say.

“I don’t think I have.”

“Oh, I know what the people say of me. I know the stories you’ve heard, and I see the way your crew looks at me. Rumor may claim that I’m cruel and thoughtless, and my reputation may paint me as impatient and forceful, but you won’t be the first to learn that it’s a misstep to underestimate me.” I take the lantern from Kilbourne and take a step toward him. “So make no mistake. When I pick a fight, you’ll know it.”





CHAPTER TWENTY

Tessa

I was glad when Corrick left with the captain, because the tension in Rian’s stateroom had been thick enough to choke the air out of the room. I caught a few glimpses of the two young men walking the deck, and their mannerisms seemed amiable, but I know Corrick well enough to recognize when he’s unsettled.

So far it’s been the entire duration of his time on board this ship.

When Corrick and Rian disappear down the steps to go below, Gwyn sighs and says, “If those two went at it under the sails, I wouldn’t know which one to put money on.”

Sablo huffs a quiet laugh, then hisses as I use my tweezers to pluck another rope fiber out of his wrist. His wound is a rope burn that runs down the length of his forearm, but he’s got a dozen rope splinters embedded in the skin. The burn is deep enough by his hand that it’s drawn blood, so it’s nothing I can stitch, but I can tell it’s painful.

I give him a commiserating glance. “Sorry.” He’s a big man, nearly as big as Rocco, so I thought he’d be intimidating, but he’s not. I glance between him and Gwyn. “So I’m not the only one who can tell they don’t like each other?”