To Kill a Kingdom(41)
“He always does this,” Kolton Torik says.
His presence casts a shadow beside me, but for all the foreboding Elian’s first mate could bring, he’s nothing of the dire pirate he could be. His face is gentle and relaxed, hands shoved into the pockets of frayed shorts. When he speaks, his voice is deep but soft, like the echo after an explosion.
“Eidyllio is one of his favorites,” Torik explains.
I find it hard to believe the prince is a romantic. He seems as though he might find the notion as ridiculous as I do. I would know in an instant that Midas isn’t his favorite kingdom; men don’t make homes if they have them already. But my guess would have been ágrios, a nation of fearlessness. Or the warrior kingdom of Polemistés that I chose for my origin. Lands for soldiers on the precipice of war. Fighters and killers who see no use in pretending to be anything else.
I would not have guessed that the infamous siren hunter had humanity in him.
“It’s one of my favorites too,” Madrid says, inhaling the air. “They have streets of bakeries, with chocolate hearts oozing toffee on every corner. Even their cards smell sweet.”
“Why is it his favorite?” I point to Elian.
Kye arches an eyebrow. “Take a wild guess.”
“What else do you need in life when you have love?” Madrid asks.
Kye snorts. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”
Madrid swipes at him and when Kye sidesteps her blow, she narrows her eyes. “This is supposed to be the land of romance,” she tells him.
“Romance is for royals,” Kye says just as Torik throws an empty bag in the middle of their makeshift circle.
He has shed his shirt, and I see that his bare arms are covered in tattoo mosaics, not a single piece of skin spared from the patchwork quilt of color. On his shoulder a snake stares down. Yellow, teeth bared, hissing as his biceps flex.
“And what’s the captain, then?” he asks.
“A pirate.” Kye throws his sword into the bag. “And we all know why pirates come to Eidyllio.”
Madrid shoots him a withering look.
I dare another glance at the prince. The warm wind bellows the tails of his coat, and as it pulls back, the point of his knife catches my eye. It splinters the sun’s growing hue, and then a small vein of black crawls up the metal and snatches the light. Drinks it until there isn’t a glimmer left on the blade. I bite down on the corner of my lip and imagine holding something that powerful.
A knife that absorbs life and light.
Elian’s stance goes rigid. His knuckles whiten on his hips, and his head tilts ever so slightly back toward the ship. To me. As though he can sense my thoughts. When he turns, it’s slow and meaningful, and it takes a few moments for his eyes to find mine among his crew. He stares, unblinking, and just when I think he’s going to raise his hand and signal for Madrid to shoot me, or for Kye to throw me back into the crystal cave, he smirks. The left side of his mouth tugs upward, and the action, somehow, feels like a dare.
Then the look is gone and Elian turns to survey the rest of his crew. When he does, his smile becomes real and wide enough to dimple his bronzed cheeks.
“You know the routine,” he tells them, climbing back onto the deck. “Everything sharp or deadly in the bags.” He looks at me. “Think you’ll fit?”
I shoot him a feral look, and his crew reluctantly pulls their swords from their belts. Drags arrowheads from their shoes. Reveals knives in the folds of their trousers. Hoists guns that were tucked into their waistbands. At one point, Kye takes off his boot and throws it in. The inked sun reflects the light from a hidden dagger in the heel before it’s buried beneath a mass of weaponry.
There are pirates unarming in front of me. Layer by layer they throw down their protection, shedding it like a second skin. When they’re done, each of them shuffles, placing awkward hands on their hips or reaching for weapons that are no longer there.
Madrid brings her thumb to her mouth and bites down hard on the nail, while Kye cracks his knuckles. The pops are as rhythmic as waves.
“Why are you doing that?” I ask, eyeing the stash of weapons.
If I can swipe one, then I can use it on the prince if he tries anything, but in this gown, there’s nowhere to hide it. I sigh in frustration, knowing I won’t be able to get close enough with a weapon in plain sight.
“No weapons in Eidyllio,” Madrid explains. She flicks the last two twin blades from either of her sleeves.
“It’s law,” Kye continues. “You can’t touch the ground if you’re carrying, so we pack up our arms and take them to the wall. Then drop the bag with the scouts.”
“Why not just leave them on the ship?”
Madrid looks down to her discarded speargun, horrified. “Don’t worry,” she whispers to the deadly contraption. “She didn’t mean it.”
Kye smirks and kicks one of the bags somewhat fondly. “Can’t risk leaving our best metal on the ship. If another lot docks here, they might decide to have a rummage. Of course,” he says, casting a meaningful look my way, “it’d be really stupid for anyone to try to get on the wrong side of the Saad’s captain.”
Elian claps a hand on Kye’s shoulder. A straw of black sugar is nooked inside his mouth, carrying the familiar aniseed smell. “But you can’t bet your life on people not being stupid,” Elian says. “That’s how you end up with a knife in your gut.”