The Pirate Prince Read online

  But Tam was already wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up in his arms. He moved a few steps back from the edge, and stood against one of the ship’s wooden masts.

  My eyes were glued on the point the djinn had disappeared.

  I handed my brass sight to Kym, who brought it to her face and looked.

  “He’s already headed back.”

  Sure enough, the djinn appeared, the large raven in his arms. Luckily, the bird was accustomed to being held.

  The djinn transformed the second his feet hit the deck, and walked up to me, cradling the raven.

  My eyebrows shot up.

  I could see the distinctive blue-and-golden seal around the parchment tied to the raven’s leg.

  Tam untied the message, and Jim walked off with the bird, cooing to it and muttering about a “nice bit of fresh fish for you,” as he walked.

  Tam examined the scroll in his hands. It was about two inches long, and half an inch in diameter, and tightly sealed with the royal crest. He shrugged and handed it to me.

  I broke the seal, the wax falling from my hands in glittering shower. I unrolled the message and studied it.

  My face blanched.

  “Trouble?” asked Tam.

  “Yes. Swerighe is in the throes of a crisis.” I looked down and read it again, trying to read between the lines. “Freak storms and floods have beset my homeland. Indeed, the whole of the Northlands.” I studied the message, reading it again and again.

  My throat felt tight, and my stomach hurt with worry.

  The wind whipped around us suddenly, and I looked up to see the dark storm clouds were almost upon us, even as our ship racing away toward the shore.

  Within moments, they had unleashed a downpour upon the ship, torrents of water falling so hard that the drops bounced when they hit the deck, casting spray upward.

  The memory of my nightmare came flooding back into my mind, and I felt a desperation born of foreboding.

  “We’ve all got to get below decks. Batten down the hatches! Secure all sails! Steer the giant manta rays toward shore with all haste! Double speed!” I called out to everyone, the troupe, the sailors, the very essence of my ship.

  We all rushed toward the door to safety. I stopped at the hatch, leaned against the wall, and gestured for the others to hurry down.

  Tam stopped next to me.

  “You aren’t going to do something like ‘ride it out’ or ‘sit low in the crow’s nest’ or something like that, are you, Charlotte?”

  I looked up at him, his beard and long hair wet with the rain that was slanting toward us and stinging our faces.

  I thought about the nightmare.

  “No way!” I pushed through the door, and Tam followed, close behind.

  We’d ride this one out below decks, thanks.

  Chapter Two

  Handfasting

  The storm thrashed the ship all day and into the night, but the mantas continued to pull hard for the coastline. We’d been sailing north alongside it for a week, but we’d veered out to sea a bit more every day, until we were a day’s travel from the coast.

  The ship tossed and turned and didn’t fall apart, although right before I fell asleep, I worried that it might.

  I woke up to a calm cabin. Tam was asleep beside me, snoring softly. I heard a ruffle of feathers and looked over by the door and saw someone had brought the raven in sometime after I’d fallen asleep.

  The huge black bird shifted position, stretching his wings out sideways, one by one. The perch he sat on was the old parrot perch that had been in the cabin from the beginning of my time here, and it consisted of a wooden bar, a flat base, and two wooden cups. I could see one of them had water, and the second had remnants of fish stuck to the edges. I smiled.

  If I knew Jim, he had made sure the raven had been fed to bursting.

  I stretched and noticed the ship was calm and not storm-tossed, as it had been the night before. Closing my eyes, I sensed we were going about fifteen or twenty knots.

  I quietly dressed and left the cabin without waking Tam.

  Patting my stomach, I was glad to be feeling fine this morning.

  And no nightmares last night, thank goodness.

  Although if I remember correctly, it had been an alarming evening, the ship tossed and bouncing on the storm waves in almost animal action.

  Now Charlotte, the ship is not alive. Don’t go down that road.

  I passed by the gallery and grabbed an apple. It was still very early. I was glad I’d worn my coat.

  I emerged on deck and found it was barely dawn. The wind whipped my hair, but the rain and storm had stopped. I looked to the starboard side and thought I saw a sliver of land in the distance.

  The shimmer-whirring of someone descending a rope filled the air, and I saw that the sailor on night watch was coming down from the crow’s nest. Another sailor was climbing over the edge of the nest to take her place.

  “Captain.” The sailor nodded, tipping her hat. I saw it was the same mariner from the morning before, and I smiled.

  “Don’t you ever sleep, mate?” I asked, laughing.

  “Not if I can help it, Captain.”

  I grinned and patted her shoulder as she passed. “Good night, sailor.”

  “Good night, Captain.”

  And I was alone on deck.

  There were a few sailors on the fo’c’sle, and a few more up at the quarterdeck, but otherwise, I was solo on the main deck.

  I leaned out over the ship railing and scanned the horizon for any sign of bad weather. The sky was an expanse of light grey, smooth and unmoving, looking almost ashamed of the fuss it had put us through the day before.

  I watched the sun begin to rise, the wind whistling passed my ears, making me tie my scarf tighter.

  Caroline appeared beside me and handed me a mug of steaming tea.

  I took it gratefully.

  “Couldn’t sleep, Carrie?” I asked.

  “No, Miss, I slept well, just woke early. I was studying the note your mother sent with the raven, and I found it odd,” she said.

  “Mmmm, you and me both.” I took a sip of tea. It was delicious.

  “It looks like the storm is over, Miss. And the shoreline is coming up, I believe,” Caroline said.

  “Thank goodness, Carrie.”

  Later that day, as we sailed north along the shore of Alkebulan, we all sat in a circle in my cabin, all nine of us. We even squeezed Akim in, his slim thirteen-year-old frame sat on the shelf above my bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms around his legs, hoping no one would notice him.

  I pretended to not look at him, but I did see Greta glance at him a few times. At eight years old, she was a curious, inquisitive girl whose light brown curls streaked with gold, and huge green eyes, hinted at the beauty of the woman she would one day become.

  “Okay, everyone,” Khepri said, holding court, “I’ve got at least five to six percent of the book translated and figured out, and this first part is incredibly helpful. It deals with cures and solutions to illnesses we had no idea how to treat.”

  “Well, at least some of them,” Christianne muttered.

  Khepri nodded at her. “Yes, Chrissy is correct. We did know the direction a few of the cures would take, but the book showed us how to focus and purify the remedies we’d considered. This should hasten the resolution of many human, and even animal ailments.” Khepri smiled.

  I lifted my glass, “Here, here, Khepri!”

  The others followed suit, and a chorus of “here-here’s” filled the cabin.

  “The ship came through the storm better than expected,” Tam began at the nod of my head. “The mantas, of course, were nearly unaffected. They are tired from the strong run to the coast, but since we rested them and fed them a double breakfast, they seem to have recovered all their strength.” He nodded toward Jim, who nodded back.

  Jim was usually the one who went into the sea to check the mantas, the five massive beasts had fifteen-foot-l
ong wingspans and were used to the djinn the most. I’d noticed Jim was a huge animal lover, probably the strongest one on board, although Kym was a close second.

  Both magical beings, both of extreme longevity, both dear, dear friends.

  “Okay. Thank you, Jim, for keeping a close eye on the mantas. I don’t know what we’d do without them, to be honest.” I paused and took a deep breath, then continued. “About the raven’s message from Swerighe ...” Everyone leaned forward, and I held up my hand. “I have no information other than yesterday’s note from my mother, the queen. But Khepri, Caroline and I have been talking and consulting the sea charts, and we’ve decided that, although the situation in Swerighe seems odd and troubling, it does not really require our return – at least not right away.”

  Jim shifted in his seat. I nodded to him.

  “What we did receive, late this morning, was a message from Tupu,” I said.

  “Oh!”

  “Tupu! Oh I miss her!”

  “How is she?”

  “How is her baby?”

  “I hope she’s all right?”

  “Oh, Tupu!”

  “She’s such a great warrior!”

  “Yes,” I held up my hand for silence. “Okay, so, you may have noticed,” I nodded my head toward the perch in the corner, “that there are now two ravens in the cabin. We received Tupu’s message late this morning, a few hours ago. In fact that’s why I called you all together.”

  “Are the ravens okay? That one’s feathers look off,” Kym pointed.

  “Yes, they’re okay. They just need rest and good food. They’ll be ready to fly off tomorrow, most likely. Now...” I paused, looking around for anyone else who wanted to comment.

  The troupe looked back at me expectantly.

  “We’ve decided to return to the Mare Nostrum and the twin islands,” I said. “Tupu will be meeting us there, and she will be rejoining us.”

  “YAY!”

  “WOO HOO!”

  “WHOOP!”

  “TUPU!”

  “Oh! I’m so pleased, Miss!”

  “I did miss her.”

  “Jim, you must be happy?”

  “Yes, I am very happy,” Jim said, turning scarlet.

  I grinned.

  Jim spoke again, “You know,” he mused, “I miss her so much, I think I can smell her.”

  Khepri looked at him sharply.

  “So can I,” Kym said.

  “Well,” I stood up, “Who’s ready for a handfasting?”

  “Miss, we are all ready.”

  “I’m sure ready,” Tam squeezed my hand.

  Tam and I stood on deck, the sun setting behind us. I wore a white shift, a huge departure from my normal black outfit, and I had a flower crown on my head that Kym and Greta had woven for me. The white shift was borrowed from Caroline. It was actually her mother’s: She carried it with her wherever she traveled, and it was beautiful.

  It was a simple white dress that fit me well, and was comfy. Which is important to me. I guess I’m not really a girly-girl.

  Tam looked wonderful; he actually combed his hair!

  I had forgotten the flowers I was to hold, and Christianne rushed to get them; her wings whirred behind her as she ran across the deck, making her go so fast she was a blur. But she was back in less than a minute. I couldn’t stop giggling.

  Khepri performed the handfasting, and I was in tears by the time the ribbon she’d borrowed from Greta was wrapped around our hands.

  Caroline slipped me a handkerchief so I could wipe my eyes. Which was a good thing, because I didn’t want to trip when we jumped over the broom.

  The ceremony was short, and then came the celebration.

  The party aboard Pride of the Sea was huge and loud. The rum flowed freely. Caroline and Christianne had prepared a feast of wild boar and wild carrots and onions, and Khepri had created several delicacies, some of which I had never heard of. Everything was so delicious, and I ate far too much.

  Then Tam had me up and dancing a jig with him, a few of the sailors in the background playing a flute, a mandolin, and an instrument I could not identify but which produced such a sweet sound it tugged at my heart.

  Then we danced to several slow songs, and I laid my head against Tam’s chest as we swayed, closing my eyes and losing myself in my love for him.

  He kept murmuring sweet words in my ear all evening, and he was so gentle with me, so tender, that I knew I had fallen in love with the right man. The moon rose in the starlit sky, and I found myself swaying to a slow song and gazing into his eyes. The moon had a halo of mist around it, and Khepri pronounced it a good omen.

  Every member of the troupe produced a special gift, and they were all so sweet.

  Tam told me he had something for me, but he wished to give me his gift when we were in private, so after a few hours, when I was feeling tired, Tam made excuses and led me to the captain’s cabin. Caroline had produced a bottle of mead from her trip to Swerighe, and this Tam carried under his arm.

  When we entered my cabin, we saw they had decorated it for us. There was a new quilt on the bed – that would be from Caroline. Flowers stood colorfully in vases in three places. A glowing moonglobe hung from the ceiling, and everything had been tidied.

  Tam busied himself opening the mead and pouring two cupfuls, then turned to me where I sat on the bed.

  “Princess,” he said quietly, handing me a cup of mead.

  It was wonderful to drink the customary handfasting beverage from my country. I sipped at the mead and watched him.

  He had sat on a large chair in the corner, and stared at me, a smile on his face for several minutes as we both sipped the sweet brew.

  “Oh,” he said suddenly, reaching under the bed for a small box. He straightened and handed it to me.

  The box was brown and tied with a red ribbon, and about five inches square. I opened it eagerly, pulling the ribbon loose and lifting the lid.

  Inside was a brilliant orange and red leaf encased in a clear glass. I lifted it out of the box in awe. It looked too delicate to handle. Its colors gleamed in the cabin’s lantern light, and I noticed the edges sparkled with a golden hue. I looked at Tam.

  “That is the leaf I picked on the southern island, two days after you’d been gone on the quest for The Book of Mysteries. It was the day I woke up with a pain in my chest that I realized was there because I missed you so much. I knew I had fallen in love, and I wanted something to mark the day.” He gestured at the clear glass encasing the leaf. “The mermaid helped me encase it, the glass is a substance they brought up from the bottom of their grotto. They said it will never break and its light will always shine. The mermaids said the luminescence was from the feeling of love I had for you.”

  “The preparation to encase it took hours, and the mermaids and I worked on it all day. I had to close my eyes and think of you while holding the leaf, and they performed some kind of spell that transferred some of the energy of my love into the leaf. Here,” he reached and blew out the three lanterns.

  I sat, spellbound, watching the leaf I held in my hands, as the light left the cabin.

  The leaf was glowing.

  Chapter Three

  Ancestral Magic and a Surprise

  The next morning, Tam and I slept in. I had placed the leaf in a box frame on my cabin wall, removing an old pinned butterfly that had been there. It glowed while we slept, and it was gorgeous.

  We finally emerged late in the morning, and Tam excused himself to go check the status of the ship.

  I wandered over to Khepri and Caroline, who were deep in conversation on a corner of the fo’c’sle deck.

  “Hi,” I said, yawning.

  “Miss! Congratulations on your handfasting! What a grand celebration!” Caroline said.

  “Charlotte, how are you feeling this morning?” Khepri asked.

  “Okay, I guess. A little sleepy, I don’t think I got that much sleep last night.” I grinned and ducked my head.

  “I
should hope not. Not on your wedding night,” Khepri said with a wink.

  “Charlotte, here you go,” Christianne walked up and handed me a mug of tea. I smelled it and raised an eyebrow.

  “Medicinal?” I asked.

  “Of course. Can’t stop a course of restorative just because someone decides to up and get handfasted,” Khepri said.

  Christianne laughed.

  “Charlotte,” called Jim, coming up the stairs from the main deck.

  I turned, sipping the steaming mug of tea. “Hmmm?”

  Jim walked up to me and stared. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then bent to lower his nose to my neck and took another few deep breaths.

  “I need to talk to you,” he finally said.

  “In private?” I asked.

  Jim glanced at Khepri, who raised an eyebrow.

  I turned to her, “What do you know of this, Khepri?”

  “Nothing,” the healer put her hand up and turned her head. “I know nothing.”

  “Come, let’s go below decks,” Jim gestured.

  We retired to my cabin, Khepri and Christianne in tow, Caroline trailing after.

  “Wait outside?” Jim told them, then entered the cabin and closed the door.

  He turned and sat down, looking at me with a strange expression on his face.

  “Charlotte.”

  “Jim.”

  “Congratulations on your joining. Tam’s a fine fellow, and I know you’re both going to be happy.”

  “Thank you, Jim,” I smiled.

  “Now,” he took a deep breath, held it a few seconds, then blew it out noisily. “I had my suspicions last week, but this morning I am certain.”

  “Certain about what?” I asked, feeling curious.

  “How do I begin? You, Charlotte, have been manifesting a certain glow about you that tells me you have a magical aura. I believe you have an ancestral magic.” He sat back.

  “You do?” I asked.

  “Yes. Your nightmares, for instance. The way you saw the storm in your mind’s eye before it arrived. Nearly a day before it arrived.”