Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(25)

“Theodosia.” Dragonsbane’s voice cuts through my thoughts. Her voice is a warning with an undercurrent of confusion, but it does not match the fury in her eyes. But that is a good thing—it means that angry as she might be to see S?ren out of the brig, she is trying to hide it. To show her emotions would be to lose face in front of her crew and the Kalovaxians, and she can’t have that. I can almost see her mind working: S?ren is out of the brig, yes, but there are enough armed crew members around him that he’s still effectively powerless. She has more to gain by letting this play out than by confronting me and setting us in opposition to each other. She knows that if it came to it, some of her crew would follow a queen over a captain—not many, not enough to put up a real rebellion, but still too many by her standards.

So she plays along. She stands on the raised bow of the ship, Eriel behind her. On his knees in front of her is an older, broad-shouldered Kalovaxian man who I assume to be the captain. If the length of his hair is any indication, it has been many years since he lost a battle. Now that he has, he’ll be losing more than just his hair. He knows this. While most of the men in his crew are looking around fearfully, his eyes are lowered and empty—a man who has already given up.

At least until S?ren crosses the gangway and comes to stand beside me.

“Min Prinz,” the man says, his gruff voice sharply accenting the Kalovaxian words. My Prinz.

“Captain Rutgard,” S?ren says, impassive. I sneak a sideways glance, only to find that his eyes are as emotionless as his voice. He might as well be speaking to a stranger, but he isn’t.

Dragonsbane clears her throat. Her eyes are daggers piercing S?ren. “You were meant to stay on the ship, darling,” she says in Astrean, and I realize she’s speaking to me and not S?ren, on account of how syrupy her voice has become. It’s the way a person speaks to a child or an invalid.

I curse my decision not to change out of my nightgown. What a sight I must be in this too-big gray shift, with my too-big boots and my hair loose and wild. I must look like some sort of specter, not like a queen at all. I fight the urge to cower and instead stand up straighter, lifting my chin and forcing my voice to stay level.

“Spiros assured me all was safe, and he was right,” I say, sticking to Astrean as well, since the Kalovaxians won’t understand. I pan my gaze slowly around the ship at the dozens of Kalovaxian men cowering on their knees before Astreans with blades held to their throats. It is not a sight I’m used to and I savor it. I begin to wind around the deck, with S?ren and his guards following a step behind, and I examine each Kalovaxian I pass. A boy of maybe fifteen looks up at me with fear plain in his eyes. I hold his gaze until he drops his.

“What news do they bring us from Astrea?” I ask, looking back up at Dragonsbane.

“None,” she admits, through clenched teeth. “Yet.”

“I thought they might be a bit more forthcoming to their Prinz,” I say, gesturing to S?ren beside me.

S?ren doesn’t understand what I’m saying either, but he recognizes his title, his forehead creasing.

“They’ll tell us what we want to know, eventually,” Dragonsbane says, waving a dismissive hand.

“Will they really?” I ask her. “I was under the impression that was not usually the case.”

Dragonsbane’s eyes find Spiros behind me, but before she can reprimand him, I continue. “S?ren is their Prinz; they’ll tell him the truth if he can convince them to turn against the Kaiser. Many of these men know him—or at least they know of his legendary skills in battle. They may be more loyal to him than to his father.”

I turn my attention to S?ren, keeping my Kalovaxian to a whisper. “We need news from Astrea and they won’t tell us anything, so she’s going to kill them.”

His expression flickers briefly before settling back into placidity. “It’s wise,” he manages. “It’s why no one has been able to describe her or the ship. It’s why no one knows who she is.”

“No one will be able to spread rumors of you rebelling against your father to a court where you still have allies either,” I add.

Understanding sparks in his expression.

“Get the information and we can spare a couple of them. Turn them into our own spies.”

He nods before facing Dragonsbane.

“Captain,” he says, stumbling over the Astrean word. It’s an admirable attempt, but it’s as far as he can go, so he switches to Kalovaxian. “If you would let me be of assistance, I can prove my loyalty.”

Dragonsbane hesitates, eyes darting around to the watching crowd. “Make it quick,” she says in Kalovaxian before switching to Astrean. “It’ll all end the same anyway.”

The Astrean crew members laugh. Though S?ren can’t decipher what exactly she said, he understands enough. He takes a deep breath before looking around at the Kalovaxian men on their knees. It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s searching for a familiar face. It takes a few more before he finds one.

S?ren crouches in front of a man in his early twenties with blond hair long enough to brush his collarbones. The man looks up at him with angry, bright green eyes. His arms are twisted behind him, bound by fraying rope, and an Astrean man I don’t recognize stands over him, a knife at the man’s neck.

“Mattin,” S?ren says, his voice low and soft. I suppose he’s trying to sound soothing, but the man is far from soothed. “Help me help you, Mattin.”