Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(75)

“Oh,” I say, suddenly understanding. “I know this game. It’s jacks.”

“No, it’s knucklebones.”

“Well, it’s jacks in Kandala. I’ll warn you: I’m very good.”

Her smile widens, and she leans in, taunting. “Not as good as me.”

“Go ahead, then. Prove it.”

To my surprise, she is very good. She’s quick and sharp and doesn’t miss until she goes for her fourth set. I quickly see the reason for the box: the rock and sway of the boat would send the ball all over the deck.

But every time she reaches for the jacks—the knucklebones, I suppose—the sleeve of her shirt draws back, and I see those scars across each forearm. They’re not very long, in varying directions, and very straight. Definitely caused by a blade.

I frown, thinking of the cook’s warning yesterday, or the way a shadow fell across her features before she recognized me. Anya doesn’t like strangers.

I think about the fact that Sablo is missing a tongue, or the way Tessa told me about the gutted citadel and the pirates in Ostriary.

I think about that locked room that Rian refuses to open.

There is a part of me that wants to get off this ship at Port Karenin.

There’s another part of me that wants to wait around and find answers.

When I bounce the ball, I realize that it’s harder than it looks on board a ship. I fail on my second set.

Anya grins. “I told you!”

“You did indeed.” I hand her the ball and try not to think about the fact that Rocco suggested that we could use this child as leverage, if necessary.

“Are you really a prince?” Anya says.

“Yes.”

“Why isn’t there a princess?”

“Ah, most likely because I don’t have any sisters.”

For some reason she finds this hilarious, and she giggles so hard that she only catches one of the wooden trinkets. “No, why don’t you have a wife.”

“A wife? Miss Anya, you are rather forward.” I take the ball, bounce it, and make it to three this time.

She takes the ball, but before she bounces it, she peers up at me. “Why is your name Your highness?”

That makes me smile. “It’s not. My name is Corrick.”

Her face screws up. “Then why—”

“Anya.” Gwyn speaks from behind me. “Leave the man in peace. Dabriel is ready to start the breakfast rolls anyway.”

Anya gasps, then springs to her feet, taking the box with her. Her voice calls out behind her as she clatters down the stairs. “Goodbye, Your Highness Corrick!”

I uncurl from the deck more sedately to face Rian’s lieutenant. I’m not entirely sure what she thinks of me, but I know what the captain thinks of me, and I remember how Gwyn told me to let Tessa go last night. I wonder if she was alarmed to find me sitting with her daughter.

The better part of me wants to say something reassuring, an encouraging statement like, What a bright child, Lieutenant. You must be so proud.

But the worst part of me is feeling tense and prickly and judged, so I say, “Don’t worry. She was clever enough to keep out of my reach.”

I’m expecting her to dig back at me, the way Rian would, but her expression doesn’t flicker. “I wasn’t worried.”

“You certainly seemed worried about Miss Cade last night.”

She snorts. “I wasn’t worried about her either. I didn’t want a bunch of hotheaded sailors to get in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel.”

We’re not lovers.

The words stall on my tongue. Putting voice to things like that always seems to make them more official. More finite.

Maybe Tessa would want me to say it, though.

But by the time I’ve reasoned all this out, the moment has passed, and wind is whipping across the water, battering the sails overhead. I slip my hands into my jacket pockets and regard Lieutenant Tagas.

“You don’t hate me like your captain?” I say.

“There aren’t too many people I hate,” she says. “You’re not on the list.” She hesitates. “The war in Ostriary was brutal and vicious, Your Highness. I know you and Rian don’t see eye to eye, but he’s seen a lot of terrible people do a lot of terrible things. So have I.”

I think of those scars on her daughter’s arms. Most people probably wouldn’t comment on it, but I’m just agitated enough to push. “Like what happened to Anya?”

She freezes, and a flare of rage fills her eyes. “Oren Crane is a bad man.”

“He did that to her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her gaze holds mine. “To punish me for getting away from him.”

I frown.

“It was war,” she adds, as if that explains everything.

Maybe it does, and maybe it doesn’t. I keep thinking about the moment Rian challenged me, when he implied that Harristan and I were putting people in a situation where they had no choice but to risk their lives. There are certainly people in Kandala who would refer to us as bad men, too. But we didn’t have any good choices either. At least we weren’t torturing children to make a point.

Though Rocco did say we could use Anya for leverage.

I thought he meant an adult at the time, but I didn’t confront him once I knew the truth.