Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(24)

I can’t help but laugh, knowing that Artemisia would call what I’m about to do the height of foolishness. “I promise I won’t,” I tell him. “But we’ll also need to bring Prinz S?ren with us.”

He’s alarmed at the idea. “The Prinz is a prisoner, a Kalovaxian prisoner,” he says. “Why would we bring him to interrogate other Kalovaxians?”

I smile. “Because those men respect S?ren as much as you respect Dragonsbane. And he will be on our side.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Spiros says, shaking his head. “He’s an enemy. Dragonsbane will get information from the Kalovaxians, just as she always does.”

“Good information?” I ask, and he hesitates. “You said very little of it ever actually checks out. Because they’re talking to an enemy, not someone they believe to be an ally. Like S?ren. He’s weakened and unarmed, easy for his guards to handle even without chains.”

“I won’t go against my captain’s orders,” Spiros says quietly, but that isn’t a no.

“You aren’t,” I tell him. “You’re following your queen’s. You’re going to go fetch Heron. He isn’t one for violence, so you’ll find him in his cabin. Once you have him, you’re going to meet me in the brig.”





BY THE TIME THE CHEERS erupt from the deck—which Spiros says means we’ve officially taken control of the other ship—I have Heron on one side and S?ren and his guards on my other. We didn’t have time for Heron to heal all of S?ren’s injuries, but the cosmetic ones have been taken care of, at least. The only outward sign that he is anything other than a guest on board is a limp he hides so well I wouldn’t notice if I weren’t looking for it. My dagger is sheathed at my hip, though it looks a bit silly strapped over my gray nightgown. It took some convincing for the guards to let S?ren out without chains, but my weight as queen helped push them. It isn’t a card I’ll be able to play forever, the Kaiser taught me that. A title is all well and good, but it doesn’t guarantee respect. Actions do.

“Would you like to fill me in on whatever you’re planning?” S?ren whispers to me as we walk up the stairs, Spiros, Heron, and the guards trailing a few steps behind.

I hesitate for only a second. “When Dragonsbane orders the Kalovaxians killed, you can’t say a word about it.”

Though the lighting belowdecks is dim, I can see S?ren go a shade paler. “Theo…,” he says. “I understand that this is war, but don’t ask me to watch it.”

“You need to prove that you’re on our side unequivocally if we’re going to get you out of the brig.” I glance behind us at the guards before turning back to S?ren and lowering my voice. “Please. Yana Crebesti.”

His eyes meet mine for just an instant before he drops his gaze and nods.

I take a deep, steadying breath before pushing open the door and stepping out onto the deck of the Smoke. It’s surprising the ship hasn’t tipped over, given how many people are gathered against the port side railing, peering over to where I can just make out the mast and collapsed red sails of the Kalovaxian ship.

S?ren struggles to see past the crowd—easier for him than me. After a moment, he lets out a curse under his breath.

“What is it?” I ask.

“The ship. It’s the Dragon’s Pride.”

The name means nothing to me, but S?ren is rattled.

“I trained on the Pride,” he explains. “So I could understand trade routes.”

“You’ll know some of the men,” I realize.

He nods, but doesn’t say more, his expression tense.

“That means that they’ll know you,” I point out. “It’ll be easier for you to get them to talk.”

And harder for you to watch them die.

Spiros and the other guards move in front of us, clearing a path to the gangway—a thick wooden plank leading from our ship to theirs. The sight of it makes my stomach clench and I imagine all the ways I could topple off it. Spiros crosses first, the plank rattling beneath his feet with each step he takes, though he hardly seems to notice it. He’s done this before, of course. So has S?ren—I’m the only one new at this.

“If it helps,” S?ren murmurs to me, “I’ve never seen anyone fall off a gangway unless someone pushed them.”

“Thank you,” I reply dryly, before taking my first step onto the rickety plank.

I’ve done harder things than this, I remind myself as I place one foot in front of the other. I remember escaping the palace, swimming against that icy current and climbing those jagged rocks, my palms and soles bleeding by the time I was through. I try not to think about the board shaking beneath me or how far of a drop it is if I fall, straight into churning dark water. I keep my mind empty until my feet find the solid ground of the Kalovaxian ship. My shaking hand finds Spiros’s and he helps me step down.

But as soon as my mind clears, I almost yearn for the quivering plank again, because suddenly I’m faced with dozens of Astreans and Kalovaxians, staring at me and S?ren, bewildered, alarmed, and expectant. None of them speaks, though. Instead, they glance between us and Dragonsbane, waiting to follow her lead. I find Blaise and Artemisia in the crowd, both staring at me with their mouths gaping open. Most of the crew are armed, their knives aimed at the pale throats of the Kalovaxians kneeling before them. I don’t have time to count them all, but I’d guess fifty Kalovaxians, many wounded, and a handful more Astreans. For once, we outnumber them.