Page 25 of Only Flames Remain

We were provided stale bread, stew, and water. I hadn’t even been able to keep the stale bread down. Quinnick was more than happy to eat my rations lest they go to waste. I was surprised to find that Enora wasn’t the only Veytari aboard the ship. There were quite a few other fae bound for Gothryn alongside the humans.

The whispers I overheard about the Blackwater princes had intrigued me the most.

After dinner last night, I was utterly claustrophobic in the thin net they called a ‘bunk.’ The room was filled with strangers—men and women alike—with prying eyes and ears. I had taken Enora and Quinnick up to the forward bow to get some fresh air. There was a cluster of humans who had the same idea, leaning over the rail as they enjoyed the balmy night.

“I’ve heard that Emrys is the most handsome,” the one with the pale hair said, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I have my eyes set on him.”

The one with the dark, bound curls shook her head. “I’ve heard he is a debauched cretin. It is Prince Sorin you should go after.”

“You’re thinking of Valerian,” she corrected. “He has a different woman in his bed each night. I would too, if I was as handsome as he is said to be.”

“I believe they all might be equally scandalous.”

“You might be right.”

They dissolved into a fit of laughter.

I had my stale bread in my grip, but I hadn’t been able to stomach it. I leaned down to give it to a greedy Quinnick who grabbed it in his maw and scooted off to eat it in private.

“I’ve heard the crown prince is cursed.” The blonde spoke in a hushed voice, but not so quiet that the crashing waves against the hull drowned out their conversation.

“Cursed?” The black-haired woman clutched a hand to her chest. “By the old gods?”

Blondie shook her head, casting a glance over her shoulder. I dropped my gaze in time not to be caught eavesdropping.

“No, by a mage. You know as well as I do that the old gods haven’t deigned to visit Aeloria in centuries. The gods have forsaken us.”

The black-haired woman nodded. “As long as the curse doesn’t affect his fangs, wings, or his performance between the sheets, it’s of no consequence to me.” She winked.

These women were planning on entering the blood trade, then. They wanted to become glorified blood bags for the Vireth fae.

I shook my head.

They were young and misguided. There was nothing alluring about being a blood servant. Humans were used and discarded as if they meant nothing to the Vireth. These women would die soon enough, when they overstayed their welcome and were no longer of any use to those more powerful than them.

Though mindless, the conversation between the young women had my thoughts swirling. If what they said was true and each of the three princes brought women into their beds regularly, that might be something I could leverage.

If different women were entering their chambers on a revolving basis, it shouldn’t be that hard to make an excuse to enter the crown prince’s sleeping quarters myself. Or at the very least, slip something into a drink one of the young maidens brought in. There were a million herbs or poisons I could plant on one’s person. The tricky part would be not killing the both of them. It was an option I would need to think about more thoroughly, when my mind wasn’t overrun with nausea.

If the princes frequented the local taverns, I could easily slip something into their ale. Were the princes truly so careless with their own safety? War was brewing on the continent. Were they truly so heedless they slept with strange women and frequented taverns and brothels, exposing themselves to all manner of danger?

It sounded all too easy.

As the women drifted off into the night, so did thoughts of killing dragons.

Sitting on the deck now, my head between my knees, all I could think about was Kallias. How if I failed in this crazed mission, I might never see him again.

“Tell me more about that job the queen has secured for me. I know you are to be working in the library as an apprentice, but what has she arranged for me?” I asked Enora, concentrating on taking deep, even breaths.

“You know, I hear gazing at the horizon helps with the sickness,” she replied, amused.

“The only thing that makes me feel even slightly better is the fresh air.”

Those cramped quarters downstairs were insufferable. The swinging of the hammock did absolutely nothing to ease my unending nausea. The last two nights I had tried to stay as still as humanly possible, flat against the creaking floorboards.

That hadn’t helped, either.

We advanced on Gothryn with every breath, the land in the distance no longer a mirage. That knowledge had a nausea of an entirely different kind stirring in my gut.