Aethan

He smuggled me off my own ship, and onto his own. Clearly, Mirax did not even trust his own men. He explained while we rowed that I was to stow away in his cabin and to stay unseen and remain absolutely quiet.

Yet another indignity that I would have to suffer, but it was better than serving as a cabin boy and chancing being recognized – which Mirax took pleasure in presenting as an option.

But I knew Aella and I were too conspicuous. Unfortunately we shared the same milky white hair and deep-blue eyes, and no matter how much salt air and sunlight our skin soaked up, the layers would simply peel and remain underneath just as infuriatingly light as before.

Our mother, Queen Silva, was the only one adept at telling us apart before she died. She would always say that it was her mother's intuition, but my father had no such claims. He could not tell us apart if his life depended on it if we had ever set out to deceive him. I could never understand then why he held such coldness for me, while he doted on his daughter, who for every gem in her crown looked exactly like me.

Mirax got me aboard using a window to his ship and hushed me as I tumbled in a pile onto the floor, rolling with the wave that had struck the ship.

Mirax worked quickly, helping me to my feet and raising up a wooden door to the vat in the middle of his floor that appeared to be empty except for a dozen rats and maybe two scores of roaches. How pleasant, I tried to school my features away from disdain before Mirax could notice. I would not be squeamish about insects and rodents. At least not while he could see.

I forced my body to lower into the vat that held only a thin, small cot just shorter than my length, fitting the length and breadth of the small storage area.

Mirax looked down at me then, his face full of seriousness, "We will arrive in Readris in a day. If you have need of anything wait until I come to you. I will check in every quarter."

I frowned, he meant I would have to wait for food or to relieve myself every six hours. Mirax never ceased to amaze me in his flippancy for my status. Of course, I could not have the luxury of my own room because he insisted on secrecy but at the very least he could check on me every hour or so. I was still working that out when he pulled the wooden door over the vat, shutting out all but a few streaks of light filtering through the cracks.

Then it was just me and the motion of the ship, rolling over the night waves and sometimes tossing my body when I failed to anticipate one. Above decks, I could make out the shouts of the sailors and curses called down on the sea and wind. Their accents melded from all manner of places in Gracia, and as they shouted updates I gauged the time and distance remaining on the voyage.

There was more than ample time to grieve, crying miserably as the cockroaches crawled up and down my spine. I stifled my sobs and felt the pain I had shut away the instant Mirax had commanded it. For Aella, I would have to appear strong, but here, hidden from sight I allowed myself to fall apart.

In the dark I cried my inner tides onto the shores of my cheek until I was sure that my face was red. I passed that who time grieving while I drew nearer to what lay on the shores of Readris. Clearly my father would have to name me his heir now, he had no other children... But why all this? Why kidnap me from my home - and why hide Aella's death?

Mirax had the answers, as always. I wondered if his own men knew what he did for the realm. Sometimes I wasn’t sure either. But Mirax had over time shown me a great many of his skills that made him invaluable to my father.

Promoted to chief of staff a decade ago, he also secretly took on the role of a master spy. Mirax had been the cause of countless assassinations within the North and even abroad in the South, in enemy territory. Before the treaty, he fought on several battlefronts against every sort of invader the realm faced within the last ten years.

He had fought the mountain dwellers of the east, the desert lords of the Southwest, invaders from Yarkia and even pirates on the high seas.

Secretly I feared Mirax's prowess and envied it. What I would give to be allowed to truly fight. But my people were more sensible than that.

The hatch opened and Mirax's smooth, scarless face appeared above me with those black eyes surveying me emotionlessly. "Food." He shoved the bowl toward me and passed with it a small jar. "Sour wine, it's all the men have."

"Water?" I asked, hating the dryness at the back of my throat and wishing not to aggravate it further. He left then reappeared with a strange looking water skin, a relic of the old days, handing it down to me. I hated him, but at that moment he was the best person alive to have brought me water.

Finally, with my thirst sated, I looked to the food, a colorless soup with yellowed onions floating to the top.

I knew all about sailor food, but unless this was the poorest pirate ship in the Vernet, I expected at the very least some smoked meat or fresh bird and fish. Especially after just being a day away from the Capital.

I left the food untouched. I could bear my hunger for a day. I passed the bowl back to him and his eyes narrowed to dangerous little slits. "What? Not good enough for the little princeling?"

"Not by a half." It was the most venom I felt within me in hours. The heat might have driven me a little bit mad by now. "Do not think to test me at this moment Mirax, I've got a good mind to ruin this secret plan of yours and I am one yell away from doing it. I won't be treated this way."

That caught his attention, his neck probably cracked from how quickly he spun to face me. "You... Won't?" His eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't have a choice, little prince-ling."

"My sister is dead." My voice broke over it but I continued after a breath. "You need me alive for my father and for some reason you need it done secretly."

Mirax leaned in close, "You're so sure I need you alive, boy?"

"Go ahead," I taunted carelessly, "Slit my throat, I've hardly a thing to live for anyway." It was true. I have always just been a pawn in my father's game. I was ready to die if it meant I won't have to play anymore. I could see Aella so much sooner...

Mirax swore under his breath and came down into the vat, holding out his palm. A slim, curved blade rested on it, an offer. "You want to die so badly, kill yourself. Just like a coward would, I'd certainly not expect more from you. But if there is something else that you want... I'm sure that the king would move the heavens and earth to get it for you."

I blinked. Was Mirax actually saying what I thought I had just heard? It actually sounded like he was recommending that I blackmail the king. "But..."

"Stupid boy. You think I'm betraying your father, do you?" He pressed the knife into my palm, hilt first. His breath hissed out when he continued, "Understand this. I have a job to do. I will take you to your father or I will take your body and work from there. But be assured that I will finish the job. The next time you make a threat like that to me, make sure you're ready to do just that. Finish the job, and don't waste my time." Clearly he meant it too.

I collected the knife and he hoisted himself out of the vat, looking down at me expectantly. "Well?"

I wanted to throw the knife into his heart, and I would've if I thought I had the slightest chance of succeeding. Instead, I put it aside and picked up the bowl. I would live for today.

"Wise," Mirax angled his head, "We make port in less than half a day. I hope you're ready to face your father. He's dying to see you."

"Tell him to get on with it," I muttered.

Mirax laughed. "So there's a glimmer of Aella in you after all. You'll need it."