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My power was best used here, on the battlefield. But I had to pick and choose my moments. Eventually, that power would be drained, and I would have nothing left. It killed a piece of me when several wards buckled farther down the line—and one of Regner’s ships took full advantage, blowing one of our own ships out of the water. But I couldn’t think of all those lives lost in this moment. I had to stay focused.
Regner had the wind. And his ships slammed into our front lines.
Lorian struck.
Conreth let loose with his power.
Madinia’s fire arched through the air, aiming for the masts, sails, and rigging.
The perfect distraction while Rythos attempted to board Rekja’s ship, a tiny, frail woman at his side.
* * *
When I’d asked where Rythos had disappeared to yesterday, Lorian had told me he was busy making friends. Galon had walked in with Jamic and interrupted before I could clarify exactly what that meant.
Now I understood.
Rythos had been busy using his magic on Rekja’s crew. So when his ship approached, the crew merely waved at him, gesturing for him to board. I watched through the spyglass as the Gromalian prince’s mouth dropped open. Color swept up his cheeks, and he yelled something—likely ordering them to fire.
They ignored him, extending a gangplank instead—all while Rekja’s captain nodded, a wide smile on his face.
Rekja snarled, lifting his own hand in warning as he said something to Rythos. Rythos gestured to one of the pirates, who guided a woman toward him. She was so thin, she looked like she might snap, and she clutched the man’s arm with both of her hands. When Rekja saw her, his face drained of color.
Telean had done it. She’d found the evidence we needed. The proof that Eryndan had killed Rekja’s mother.
She’d located his aunt.
Rythos helped her walk across the gangplank, his steps graceful. When he was just a few foot spans from Rekja, he held out a message.
Rekja took it.
His aunt stepped forward, and Rekja’s hand dropped to the sword at his side. My heart jumped into my throat. When we’d discussed this plan weeks ago, Prisca had been certain he was reasonable. That he would listen. Yet the prince was clearly enraged, his face tight as he snarled something.
Slowly, his aunt slipped her hand beneath the neckline of her dress.
I barely breathed.
Rekja’s mouth was frozen in a snarl, but his face turned blank and the air shuddered from my lungs. The necklace his aunt was holding was clearly familiar to him.
He snapped some words that made his guards melt away. Then he stepped closer to his aunt, examining the necklace.
Tears were rolling down her cheeks now. Dropping the necklace, she held out her hand. Rekja took her hand, bowing his head. She spoke for several long moments, replying to his questions. Finally, he dropped her hand and stalked to the other side of his ship, his hands gripping the railing.
I felt a presence to my right and turned. Daharak was watching through a spyglass of her own.
“How long has this plan been in place?” she asked.
“Prisca has been attempting to turn Rekja since the moment she met the Gromalian king and realized he would never ally with us.”
“And she thinks this woman will change that?”
I turned my attention back to the spyglass, watching as Rekja’s shoulders shook.
“The Gromalian prince has just learned that everything he knows is a lie. His father killed his mother. Not to mention, the moment he learned Rekja was in love with a guard, Eryndan directly threatened her life. Rekja may not ally with us, but I’m betting he won’t ally with his father anymore either.”
Rekja shouted something to his crew.
His ship was turning, until he faced Eryndan, who was speaking to one of his guards.
