Crystal Storm
Page 20
“I can hear you, you know,” Felix managed as he clung to the railing at the edge of the ship.
Jonas tried to repress a grin, the first one he’d felt on his face in ages. “Yes, we know.”
“This isn’t funny,” Felix growled.
“I’m not laughing. Not out loud, anyway.”
Felix said something unintelligible but unmistakably unpleasant under his breath, then groaned. “Can someone please kill me and put me out of this misery?”
“I volunteer,” said Taran as he descended from the crow’s nest. He’d insisted on climbing up there, displacing a crew member, to keep a lookout for any Kraeshian vessels.
“Shut up,” Felix snarled. Then his face tensed, and he threw himself against the railing to be sick again.
Jonas grimaced. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Just . . . leave me . . . to die.”
“Fair enough.” He turned away from his sick friend to regard Taran as he picked up the sword he’d left at the bottom of the pole. “What are you up to now, might I ask?”
“I’m going to sharpen my sword.”
“It seems like you’ve been sharpening that blade since we set sail.”
Taran glanced at him. “And . . . ?”
“Must be the sharpest blade ever, ready to kill those who deserve it,” Nic said, sharing a knowing look with Taran. “Well done.”
Jonas sighed and took Nic by his bicep, directing him out of Taran’s earshot. “We need to talk.”
Nic slipped away from Jonas’s grip. “About what?”
“Your hate of Magnus is consuming you, and it’s becoming a problem.”
Nic scowled. “Really? How odd that you’d say that, since I haven’t mentioned that bucket of scum in days. Besides, since when did you become his majesty’s personal bodyguard?”
The thought was ludicrous. “I’m not. But the prince sent me to Kraeshia to kill his father. We’re in an alliance with him.”
“You might be in an alliance with that monster, but I’m not.” Nic’s cheeks flushed as he jabbed a finger in Taran’s direction. “Magnus killed his brother. Your so-called alliance has nothing to do with either me or him.”
Jonas had heard about the murder of Theon Ranus over the last few days and how the former Auranian guard had been involved with Cleo before Magnus had stabbed him through the back.
Yet another reason for Cleo to despise Magnus, he thought. He’d had no clue about any of this, but that Cleo had lost someone she cared about . . . just like Jonas had lost Lys . . . it only made him feel closer to her.
Taran had every right to seek vengeance on the prince, but it was nothing but a distraction from the larger problem of Amara and the king, of three magical crystal orbs imprisoning elemental gods, and of Jonas’s own need for vengeance against the fire Kindred for killing Lysandra.
“Fine,” Jonas said, absently scratching his chest. “You and Taran can do what you want when it comes to the prince. But I want no part of it.”
“Agreed.”
Jonas scanned the deck, seeing Taran and Felix and a few crew members, but one person was notably missing. “Where’s that other prince we need to worry about?”
Nic didn’t reply for a moment. “Likely in his quarters, being silent and meditating, or whatever it is prophesied phoenixes do to spend their time while at sea.”
With each day that passed, Jonas felt more and more sure that allowing Ashur passage aboard this ship had been a mistake. At best, he was simply the misguided brother of the power-mad empress who’d used and manipulated Felix nearly to death; at worst, he was completely insane and would get them all killed.
Jonas had never been much of an optimist.
“Do you believe the legend is true?” Jonas asked.
“I don’t know,” Nic said, exhaustion and sadness in his tone. “All I know for sure is that I watched him die, and now here he is, alive and aboard the very same ship we are.”
“Have you ever heard that legend before? Of somebody who’s returned from death to be the savior of the world?”
Nic shrugged. “When I was a kid, I remember reading a story that was very similar. But there are thousands of legends that aren’t true.”
“The Watchers are a legend that’s true,” Jonas pointed out.
“Yes, and it’s possible that this phoenix tale could be the same.” He noticed Jonas still scratching his chest. “Do you have a rash?”
Jonas grimaced. “No. I guess this long journey to Mytica is making me itchy with impatience.” He paused. “Listen, you know Prince Ashur better than any of us. Right?”
“Well, I’ve known him longer,” Nic allowed.
“I need to know more about his plans. If he sees you as a friend, he’ll trust you. You need to uncover the truth about why he’s not simply marching up to his evil sister and taking his rightful place as emperor.”
“I can tell you why. Because Amara would try to kill him again. Besides . . . I don’t think he wants to be interrupted when he’s meditating.”
Just the word meditating raised Jonas’s hackles. That was what Chief Basilius claimed to be doing when he believed himself to be a prophesied sorcerer who would save the world.
He’d been certain the chief’s belief had to do with Princess Lucia’s prophecy, but perhaps this phoenix legend had further reach into Paelsia.
Jonas tried to repress a grin, the first one he’d felt on his face in ages. “Yes, we know.”
“This isn’t funny,” Felix growled.
“I’m not laughing. Not out loud, anyway.”
Felix said something unintelligible but unmistakably unpleasant under his breath, then groaned. “Can someone please kill me and put me out of this misery?”
“I volunteer,” said Taran as he descended from the crow’s nest. He’d insisted on climbing up there, displacing a crew member, to keep a lookout for any Kraeshian vessels.
“Shut up,” Felix snarled. Then his face tensed, and he threw himself against the railing to be sick again.
Jonas grimaced. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Just . . . leave me . . . to die.”
“Fair enough.” He turned away from his sick friend to regard Taran as he picked up the sword he’d left at the bottom of the pole. “What are you up to now, might I ask?”
“I’m going to sharpen my sword.”
“It seems like you’ve been sharpening that blade since we set sail.”
Taran glanced at him. “And . . . ?”
“Must be the sharpest blade ever, ready to kill those who deserve it,” Nic said, sharing a knowing look with Taran. “Well done.”
Jonas sighed and took Nic by his bicep, directing him out of Taran’s earshot. “We need to talk.”
Nic slipped away from Jonas’s grip. “About what?”
“Your hate of Magnus is consuming you, and it’s becoming a problem.”
Nic scowled. “Really? How odd that you’d say that, since I haven’t mentioned that bucket of scum in days. Besides, since when did you become his majesty’s personal bodyguard?”
The thought was ludicrous. “I’m not. But the prince sent me to Kraeshia to kill his father. We’re in an alliance with him.”
“You might be in an alliance with that monster, but I’m not.” Nic’s cheeks flushed as he jabbed a finger in Taran’s direction. “Magnus killed his brother. Your so-called alliance has nothing to do with either me or him.”
Jonas had heard about the murder of Theon Ranus over the last few days and how the former Auranian guard had been involved with Cleo before Magnus had stabbed him through the back.
Yet another reason for Cleo to despise Magnus, he thought. He’d had no clue about any of this, but that Cleo had lost someone she cared about . . . just like Jonas had lost Lys . . . it only made him feel closer to her.
Taran had every right to seek vengeance on the prince, but it was nothing but a distraction from the larger problem of Amara and the king, of three magical crystal orbs imprisoning elemental gods, and of Jonas’s own need for vengeance against the fire Kindred for killing Lysandra.
“Fine,” Jonas said, absently scratching his chest. “You and Taran can do what you want when it comes to the prince. But I want no part of it.”
“Agreed.”
Jonas scanned the deck, seeing Taran and Felix and a few crew members, but one person was notably missing. “Where’s that other prince we need to worry about?”
Nic didn’t reply for a moment. “Likely in his quarters, being silent and meditating, or whatever it is prophesied phoenixes do to spend their time while at sea.”
With each day that passed, Jonas felt more and more sure that allowing Ashur passage aboard this ship had been a mistake. At best, he was simply the misguided brother of the power-mad empress who’d used and manipulated Felix nearly to death; at worst, he was completely insane and would get them all killed.
Jonas had never been much of an optimist.
“Do you believe the legend is true?” Jonas asked.
“I don’t know,” Nic said, exhaustion and sadness in his tone. “All I know for sure is that I watched him die, and now here he is, alive and aboard the very same ship we are.”
“Have you ever heard that legend before? Of somebody who’s returned from death to be the savior of the world?”
Nic shrugged. “When I was a kid, I remember reading a story that was very similar. But there are thousands of legends that aren’t true.”
“The Watchers are a legend that’s true,” Jonas pointed out.
“Yes, and it’s possible that this phoenix tale could be the same.” He noticed Jonas still scratching his chest. “Do you have a rash?”
Jonas grimaced. “No. I guess this long journey to Mytica is making me itchy with impatience.” He paused. “Listen, you know Prince Ashur better than any of us. Right?”
“Well, I’ve known him longer,” Nic allowed.
“I need to know more about his plans. If he sees you as a friend, he’ll trust you. You need to uncover the truth about why he’s not simply marching up to his evil sister and taking his rightful place as emperor.”
“I can tell you why. Because Amara would try to kill him again. Besides . . . I don’t think he wants to be interrupted when he’s meditating.”
Just the word meditating raised Jonas’s hackles. That was what Chief Basilius claimed to be doing when he believed himself to be a prophesied sorcerer who would save the world.
He’d been certain the chief’s belief had to do with Princess Lucia’s prophecy, but perhaps this phoenix legend had further reach into Paelsia.
