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For the fifth time in as many days, Caelan found himself staring toward Rivosa. A tapestry of stars surrounded him, twinkling across the cloudless sky overhead and reflecting off the churning waves below. It was the dead of winter, and the cold wind off the sea tore straight through his tunic and overcoat. He had given up his court finery in favor of loose tunics and fitted leather pants the moment they cast off. There was no longer a point in pretending he was anything more than a commoner.
The ship dipped over a wave, and his stomach turned. How he hated sailing. He clutched the railing and focused on the horizon, wishing he could see beyond the darkness and distance to Rivosa’s shore. It was just over a week since Riona had confronted her king.
Just over a week since he’d lost her.
As soon as the thought occurred to him, he shoved it away. Riona had never been his to lose, and he’d been a fool to ever believe otherwise.
Footsteps sounded on the deck behind him. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Always.” He turned as Drystan leaned on the railing beside him, watching the stars ripple over the waves. The prince’s face was calm and composed as usual, as distant and unreadable as the face of the moon shining high above. He was so careful to keep his true thoughts hidden, to wear that mask of quiet confidence, that Caelan often wondered if Drystan ever doubted himself at all. “I was just…thinking.”
“About Riona.”
“Yes.” He hadn’t been able to take his mind off her since Drystan had arrived bearing the news of her impending marriage to the Duke of Kenter. “I can’t stop thinking about her. And I can’t help but think that I never should have come to Rivosa.”
Drystan shot him a look of disbelief. “Would you really trade what little time you had with her for never knowing her?”
No.The answer came to him immediately, but he refused to give the prince the satisfaction of admitting that he was right. Instead, he turned back to the water, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach as the ship tilted.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Drystan said, “but I don’t think you should continue working as a spy when we return to Torch. Anyone who knows you can see that you’re unhappy there. Before Rivosa, you couldn’t wait to get your next assignment. To become someone else. To go somewhere new. Until you met Riona, I don’t think I ever saw you truly happy. When you were around her, you were like a different person.”
“Iwasa different person. That’s the point of being a spy.”
The prince let out an exasperated breath. “You know what I meant. You’ve always seemed…content working for my father, but as your friend, I don’t think this life is for you. I believe you’ve been feeling lost for a very long time, and you joined my father’s spy network because you needed something to do. The problem is, it’s not enough.”
Despite himself, Caelan smiled. “Careful. You’re beginning to sound like Walther.”
Drystan chuckled. “If that’s the price I have to pay to make you see reason, so be it.”
Caelan sat with his back against the ship’s railing, his legs stretched out before him. As the prince settled beside him, he tilted his head back and stared up at the stars, remembering the night he and Walther had sat up on that rooftop in Torch. Only a couple of months had passed since then, but it felt like a lifetime.
Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “I watched my parents burn to death when I was five years old.”
“You watched—?” The prince’s head whipped toward him, shock on his face. “By the Creator, Caelan…”
He closed his eyes, fighting the onslaught of memories that came flooding back. It was no secret he’d grown up an orphan, but he had never spoken of the deaths of his parents to anyone until the night he’d confessed his identity to Riona. “I can’t remember their faces anymore, but even now, I have nights where I wake in a cold sweat, the sound of their screams ringing in my ears. The stench of smoke stinging my nose. They were just two of the countless casualties in the war between Kostos and Kenter, but they were my entire world.” He faltered, his heart aching. “After that, nothing will ever be enough.”
Drystan was silent for several moments, seeming to struggle for the right words. “I had no idea. Caelan… I want you to know that you will always have a place in Torch, no matter what you choose to do. But I do hope that you will give up this life and find happiness,” the prince said. Then he added, “Preferably not with a girl who threatens to bury a dagger in your heart.”
Caelan let out a soft laugh. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” The prince rose and offered him a hand up. “Now, I’m going to try and get some rest. Are you going to go back to your cabin as well, or stay out here?”
“I’ll stay a little while longer. Brooding agrees with me.”
Drystan chuckled as he walked away. Once he’d left, Caelan pushed to his feet and stood at the railing for several long minutes, watching the stars sparkle on the waves. He hated sailing, but he loved the scent of the sea-salt air and the way it rushed over him, tugging on his clothes and hair. Something about it settled the restless, anxious energy that never seemed to leave him. Gradually, the churning in his stomach began to ease, and he returned to his room below decks.
Caelan closed the door behind him and started toward the bunk affixed to the wall. He had left the lantern burning low, and in its dim light, he nearly tripped over the large chest sticking out from under the desk. An expletive slipped from his lips as he righted himself, bracing a hand on the wall just as the ship listed to one side. Bile rose in his throat.
If he never set foot on a ship again, it would be too soon.
Stumbling forward, he sank onto his bunk and dropped his head into his hands, forcing himself to breathe evenly until the nausea passed. As soon as his stomach settled, he pulled the heavy iron key from his pocket, unlocked the chest, and lifted the lid. Inside, countless shards of eudorite gleamed under the lantern light. Some were no larger than his pinky finger. Others were longer than his arm. All the other chests were down in the ship’s hold, but he had kept this one in his cabin as a reminder of what he’d accomplished.
Caelan closed the chest, locked it, and extinguished the lantern’s flame. He stretched out on his bunk and closed his eyes, letting the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull lull him to sleep. As he did, his thoughts drifted back to what Drystan had said. He appreciated the prince’s concern, but the advice was less than helpful. Caelan had nowhere else to go. Six years ago, Emperor Hyperion had saved him from a lifetime of begging and stealing when he recruited Caelan to his spy network and assigned Walther to train him. The Emperor had given him a job, a purpose, and a home. In Rivosa, he had almost lost sight of that, and he would never allow that to happen again.
I am a weapon of Erduria,he thought as the darkness rushed in to drag him into sleep.Nothing more, and nothing less.
PartSix
