Tides of Mutiny Read online

  I stepped around a pile of dung with bits of grass poking out like spiky green hair and continued on. They’d installed cobblestone since I was here last. Yet from the gaps along the edge marked by crude warning signs, I could see they weren’t finished. So silly. What good were cobblestones to protect one’s boots when horses did their business all over the place? I preferred dirt streets, even when it meant muddy winters. At least mud was honest.

  There. A new sign stood at the footbridge leading toward town, larger and brighter than its predecessor. It boasted a figure wearing a black dress and holding an axe. A bloodred X had been painted over her. NO PIRATES, screamed bold lettering. The Jilly Black symbol. Like the old sign, it wore splatters of old spit along the bottom edge.

  It was ironic—male pirates had terrorized the four brother nations for centuries, yet the universal symbol for pirate was a woman. Not just any woman, but the one who’d nearly accomplished the unthinkable. Captain Elena and her fearsome crew had defeated three of the Four Lands. She’d come closer to conquering the world than any man who’d ever tried.

  Granted, she had nearly destroyed it in the attempt. And granted, her execution had spawned the King’s Edict and complicated my life considerably. She’d scared the nations’ leaders so badly, men cursed her name and spat at the thought of her. But there was one detail they’d gotten terribly wrong. Historians and witnesses all agreed that Elena had never worn a dress in her life.

  I stared at the sign, imagining a crossed-out figure next to Elena. What would King Eurion do to my father if he really was a pirate? Did he face prison like Belza, or execution like the other members of Elena’s crew? If this madness were indeed true, it would be just as important to protect my father’s secret as my own. Nobody could know. As far as the world went, it wouldn’t change a thing.

  And yet it would change everything.

  No matter how devastating the truth, I couldn’t turn back now. I wouldn’t be given this opportunity again. I pushed past the sign and strode on.

  The walk into town required crossing three busy footbridges over unusually high water for this early in the season. I dodged between two carts and trotted across the street toward the fabric shop, only to find my path blocked by two well-dressed and incredibly slow women. A heavy lavender scent tainted the wind. The women swung their hips as they sauntered, looking much like fly-bitten mules. Did that actually attract men? I really had no idea.

  Yet foolish as they looked, at least they didn’t have to hide who they were.

  I was about to walk past when I noticed a stringy-haired child trailing one of the women. Her once-yellow dress hung too short, exposing a pair of bare feet, dirty from the streets. An orphan. Rumors said many of Hughen’s orphans had disappeared lately—kidnapped off the streets for military service, some believed, though I wasn’t sure about that. Slavery was illegal here. More likely that the boys got picked up by sponsors wanting cheap labor. But the girls? Their options were begging or the brothel—both paths I’d narrowly avoided myself.

  It wasn’t her dress that tore at me, however. It was the girl’s bewildered look, as if in disbelief that she was now utterly alone.

  I’d felt that way once. The image emerged unbidden… reaching for the comfort of my mum’s hand and watching her stalk away instead.

  “Pardon, ma’am,” the beggar said, ignoring me and addressing the taller woman wearing the blue gown. “Have you a coin to spare?”

  The women’s pasted-on smiles froze. Blue Dress lifted her nose, huffed, and backhanded the girl clean across the face. The child yelped and stumbled, hitting the ground hard.

  I moved before I had time to think, blocking the woman’s escape. “A simple nay would suffice, Your Ladyship.”

  The first woman just blinked, but the one next to her, in green, snickered. “Do not address us in such a manner, boy. Move aside before I call the guards to remove you. I’ve no desire to touch… that.” She gestured to my clothes.

  I folded my arms and waited.

  “Oh, never mind.” Blue Dress grabbed her companion’s arm and strode off into the road, shoving me against a shop window. A rider jerked his bay gelding to a stop just in time, so close that the horse could’ve sneezed in their faces. I wished he had. The rider watched with gritted teeth as the ladies passed.

  The orphan sat in stunned silence on the ground where she’d landed. What faded yellow had remained of her dress was now a uniform mud brown.

  “Steer clear of lords and ladies,” I hissed, hauling her to her feet and digging my last two coins from my pocket. She snatched them from my outstretched palm and scampered away without a word. Her rudeness was a comfort. She’d learned a hard lesson today, but she’d be all right.

  The statue was only a few blocks away now. I picked up the pace and had just turned the last corner when a long scream pierced the air, pulling me to a sudden halt.

  The distant sound of hooves on cobblestone echoed against buildings from the direction of the docks. Travelers scrambled to clear the road. Behind them, a team of white stallions clattered toward us, hauling a tidy wagon filled with rigid soldiers. A single woman sat at their center, bound in an intricate network of chains save her hay-colored hair whipping in the wind.

  “Three years since the last Jilly execution,” someone muttered, “and this’ll be the second in a week.”

  Every muscle in my body went taut. I struggled to keep my face impassive as I turned to the man, a baker, standing behind his cart. “They’re searching ships at port? For women?”

  “Part of the king’s cleansing. Random inspections from now till the festival.” The baker grimaced, his lips covering a set of brown teeth.

  I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “King Eurion’s never done that before.”

  “Nay, but with the khral coming, s’pose he thought it best. The last prisoner kept yelling that she was a passenger, not a sailor, but they hanged her anyway. Must’ve got too hard to tell the difference.” He shook his head. Whether for the poor woman or her excuse, I couldn’t tell.

  Horror held me rigidly in place. If I’d remained at the ship like Father had asked…

  My heart drummed in my rib cage, so loudly I feared the man could hear it. It could have been me in that wagon. So close.

  I straightened my vest and looked about, but the entire market’s eyes were focused on the prisoner. The crowds parted slowly, forcing the wagon to a crawl. I could see the woman’s terror-filled expression now. She skimmed faces and shouted again. This time I caught the word. Marcu. A southern name. Was Marcu a lover or a family member? Not that it mattered. Only the king could pardon her now, and that was as likely as a sea monster wearing a dress and dancing in the square.

  The church bell began to toll. Come witness a pirate’s death. It wasn’t a request. The entire city was expected to attend.

  A single thought pounded in my head like a hand drum. If they treated a suspected pirate like this, what would they do to a known one?

  Somber mothers gathered their children. Men collected their purchases and trotted off, some looking eager. Those sitting behind carts full of wares only lowered their heads, silently tracing wards on their chests to shield them from dark spirits. It was good fortune to witness a criminal’s execution—a person could send their troubles with the dead into the afterlife and come away cleansed.

  But this wasn’t a criminal. It was simply a woman who’d dared set foot on a ship. A decision that would cost her life.

  My hands formed tight fists. Another hanging body that would haunt my dreams for months. Another innocent soul sent to join Elena in the afterlife, assumed a pirate simply because she lacked manly parts. Robbed of happiness and a future, and punished for violence she’d never dreamed of committing. She wouldn’t even get a trial. Meanwhile, I’d set out to see if my father was guilty of the same crime.

  Because if he bore pirate blood… so did I.

  One thing was clear. Sprinting to the ship now would bring attention upon myse
lf, and I didn’t even know if it was safe there. Besides, the poor prisoner deserved at least one witness who cared. My errand could wait. I hoped.

  I squared my shoulders, feeling hundreds of invisible eyes on me as the bindings beneath my shirt pulled tight. Then I followed the others.

  It took only fifteen minutes for the entire town to pack themselves into the square, shoulder to shoulder. Hastily invented stories of the condemned woman’s crimes whipped through the crowd. I placed myself on the group’s edge, too far for the gossip to reach and hopefully too far to see well. I focused on the oversized woven hat of the plump woman blocking my view and tried to ignore the whispers filling the air like a brutal wind. The bindings beneath my shirt were damp enough for a good wringing.

  A quick glance revealed that the nearest guard stood several horses’ distance away. I felt his eyes sweep over me as he inspected the crowd. No reaction, but I tensed anyway. Beyond him, I could make out the gallows’ highest timber. Several knotted ropes lay across it. Only one would be used today.

  The gallows’ placement was a chilling reminder of royal power. They’d built it upon the spot where King Eurion beheaded his wife’s murderer, Elena the Conqueror. But that hadn’t been enough for him. His infamous Edict had followed later that day. An Edict that would forever follow me like a thief in the shadows.

  Today I felt the thief’s hand on my shoulder.

  I scanned the audience, but Father’s three-cornered hat was nowhere to be seen. Engaged in business elsewhere, perhaps, and too busy to attend? Or did he have as much cause to hide as I did?

  “They’re unloading the Jilly,” a man drawled from the rooftop above me. When I narrowed my eyes at him, he just grinned and tipped a bottle toward the gallows. He knew as well as I did that this woman was no Jilly, but now wasn’t the time to correct him. Most of these observers would discuss the young woman’s murder tonight along with other gossip like the upcoming festival and the palace’s new cat, which was barely news at all, considering the royal family already owned fourteen.

  Meanwhile, a new body would be rowed out to sea and dumped with the city’s waste. A body that didn’t look all that different from mine.

  “They’ve put a sack over her head,” the rooftop drunk continued, emboldened now. “The priest is exchanging words with the prisoner.… Oh, he just turned his back on her! He’s walking away. The Jilly’ll die in her sins.” He belted out a laugh. A few others joined him. I wanted to curl my fingers around their thoughtless throats, every last one.

  The crowd quieted, brushing their trousers free of dirt or straightening their hats and placing a fist to their hearts in salute. Staccato hoofbeats from the front meant a carriage had arrived.

  “Varnen is here,” someone muttered.

  My blood went cold. Varnen: the man who had betrayed Elena and turned her in. A strange concoction of emotion churned inside me—curiosity, respect. Disgust. People spat at an uttering of Elena’s name, but from what I’d heard, Varnen wasn’t much better. The king had rewarded the man’s so-called loyalty by appointing him high advisor.

  I rose onto my toes, a feat that only earned me a few worthless inches. I almost expected the man stepping down from the carriage to have three heads and scales, but he was very much human. He wore his gray beard to a sharp point and stood slightly shorter and stockier than his guards. If it weren’t for the deep-blue uniform, he could have been one of Father’s Hughen friends.

  The thought was a bitter one. For all I knew, he was.

  A single shout sounded across the square. A man in his early twenties threw himself into the crowd, waving his arms wildly. “Stop! Advisor, please!”

  If word of the official’s arrival had stirred interest, this new development arrested every pair of eyes. Townspeople stepped back to allow the man’s approach, sending him nearly stumbling in his frantic haste. The surge allowed me to see clear to the gallows and its single prisoner, standing with her arms tied behind her and a cloth over her head. They’d already secured the rope around her neck. Even from where I stood, I could see her legs trembling.

  “She’s no Jilly, I swear!” the man continued, flinging himself at the advisor’s feet on the platform. Guards yanked him back, but his shouts only grew louder. “That woman is my intended from KaBann, just arrived. Please, oh, powerful one. This is a terrible mistake.”

  Despite everything, a twinge of hope fluttered in my chest. Varnen could ignore the woman’s story, but he couldn’t dismiss the testimony of a man so easily. Not in front of a crowd like this.

  “She has broken the King’s Edict,” Varnen said, far too calmly.

  “Please, Advisor Varnen, give her a trial! I will assure the judge that I pushed her into taking passage on that ship. Or let me die in her place.”

  My hope drained away as I took in Varnen’s disinterested expression. Marcu truly didn’t understand. This wasn’t just an execution—it was a demonstration. The nearby guard’s eyes swept the crowd again. If I slouched any more, I’d be folded in half.

  Calm down. Nobody sees a captain’s boy.

  A long silence hung over the square, like the wind holding its breath. It made Varnen’s voice clearer than ever. “Then she fooled you too. You should thank me for saving you from such a woman. Now stand aside and witness justice done.”

  “This is not justice!” the man howled. “This is not right. How dare—”

  I flinched as a guard’s club sent him to the ground. Then it was quiet once again, save for the muffled sobs coming from the condemned woman. She and Marcu had begun their day focused on the altar. Hours later, everything would end at the gallows.

  Love had no place in my future either, but what these two had made my chest hurt.

  Ship or man, I reminded myself. You can’t have both.

  As it was, four men alive knew my secret. That meant four opportunities for betrayal, four people who saw me as vulnerable. Placing my life into yet a fifth person’s hands would be terrifying enough. Handing over my heart as well, especially when any romance was doomed to end up just like this? Nay, never. Not in a thousand years.

  If Elena’s ship had always been enough for her, the Majesty would be enough for me.

  “The Treaty Festival begins in a few weeks,” Varnen called out. “No crime will be tolerated, especially not the treasonous crime of piracy. Women such as this nearly destroyed us once. We refuse to be tricked again. Long live our defender, our protector, our glorious king Eurion!”

  The crowd raised a half-hearted shout, but most shifted in their boots. By Varnen’s darkening expression, he noticed. He didn’t spare the shuddering woman behind him a single glance. Justice indeed.

  Varnen said something to a soldier, who saluted. A wave of quiet expectation swept over the audience. He’d given the order, then.

  Movement to the left caught my eye as a young man pulled a cap lower over his face. His jaw clenched as he stared at the advisor, his shoulders taut. He had a stain on his shirt too, just like…

  I cursed.

  The boy from the docks turned to meet my gaze. Our eyes locked. Surprise flashed across his face—or was it confusion?—and he examined me, taking in my entire ensemble of ratty trousers and a worn vest. Then he grinned.

  Panic shot through my chest like the ball of a cannon. I forced my hands into my pockets to keep them from shaking. First the docks, then here. I didn’t believe in coincidences. He was following me—and there was only one reason he would do that.

  I felt the boy’s eyes still on me as I stepped backward, nearly tripping over someone’s boot. I ignored the person’s angry curse and headed for the back of the crowd. Something felt like it was closing around my throat.

  It should have been you, whispers in the crowd said.

  Next time.

  Pirate.

  The awful squeak of hinges tore through the square as the hatch beneath the woman’s feet swung open.

  My boots didn’t stop moving until I’d reached the square, my lungs
gasping for precious oxygen. I darted into an alley and hid in the shadows, straining for any sound of pursuit. But as the moments passed and my breathing slowed, I sat back with relief. If that boy intended to give chase, he would have found me by now. Even if he’d alerted a guard, what soldier would sprint after me when they could see a woman die instead?

  I hadn’t watched, but my mind provided the images far too readily—the victim convulsing, thrashing about, fighting to live with what instinctive strength remained. The image would reappear in my nightmares for weeks to come. Except her pale yellow dress would become my ratty pair of trousers and the delicate shoes a pair of dirty, too-tight boots.

  That was way too close.

  It was several minutes before the square filled with people again. Their conversations were somber, but the sound made me feel safer. Noise was natural. It was silence that was suspicious. The boy from the docks was nowhere to be seen. If I meant to complete my errand, now was the time.

  I crept out of the alley and strode toward the statue of the dead queen. She stood too rigidly, looking down upon the square’s inhabitants, every bit as proud and regal as I’d expect from royalty. It was this woman’s death that had caused so much trouble. Why Elena had thought it necessary to murder Hughen’s queen instead of its king was a mystery.

  I let my fingers brush against the letters etched permanently into stone beneath the statue, the words forever branded into my mind.

  Respecting my dear queen’s memory and regarding the bloody mayhem Elena and her band of women pirates have left behind, I hereby decree that any woman found sailing upon our seas will be assumed Elena’s spawn and executed.

  —Noble King Eurion of Hughen (YBE 348)

  The thing was, the Edict hadn’t even brought peace like it was supposed to. Belza had launched a bitter campaign of revenge that would last ten years before his capture, taking the lives of hundreds more. Sailors suspected, betrayed, and even killed one another. And now innocent women passengers were being publicly murdered. If the Hughens would talk sense into their king rather than getting superstitious, maybe we could finally get somewhere with the whole world peace thing.