Prince of Song & Sea
: Chapter 6

SAUER AND their crew led the ghost ship north. No one on the Laughing Dove spoke until the ghost ship was out of sight, and even then, it was only in cautious whispers. Eric kept his flute in hand, and Gabriella started heading the ship back toward Cloud Break. There they could restock and make sense of everything that had happened. Most of the crew were too shaken to do much other than absentmindedly go through the motions of sailing. Eric couldn’t begrudge them returning when they had encountered ghosts.

And Nora’s presence made the failed trip feel far less like a failure.

“We can talk in here,” Eric said, holding a hand out to Nora and gesturing toward the captain’s quarters. Grimsby narrowed his eyes, and Eric shook his head.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us,” Vanni said quickly. “For anything.”

Eric nodded and opened the door. Max shot out. He leapt onto Eric, paws on his shoulders, and lapped at his face. Eric bundled Max up like a baby against his chest.

“Do you think the ghosts’ spell works on dogs?” he asked Nora. The inside of the door was badly marred with claw marks.

She sat on a clear corner of the table and rested her boots on a chair. “It doesn’t. They can see the ghosts, though. The ship cats can, too. We’ve dealt with the ghosts twice, and cats reacted both times. The ghosts didn’t seem to notice them.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” said Eric. He looked around the ransacked quarters. “Thank you for not stealing my maps, I suppose.”

“It looks like a navigator vomited on the walls,” Nora said, and hesitated. “Your Highness.”

“It sure felt like that,” he said. “I know I said it already, but I am looking for a place called the Isle of Serein. The Blood Tide was mentioned with it, but I thought it might be a metaphor for dawn or dusk. So far as I’ve been able to learn, the Isle is probably in one of the locations marked on these maps, surrounded by storms, and related to the Blood Tide.”

Nora twisted to study one of the maps and whistled. “You know these don’t make sense?”

“I’m aware.” He collapsed onto the bed and let Max scramble about the room sniffing at Nora until he was satisfied enough to settle down across Eric’s feet. “Now, what do you know about the Blood Tide?”

In the light of the cabin, it was easier to take her in. She was tall and lean, her long black hair cascading over her shoulder in locs. A few dark scars crisscrossed her arms, and her knuckles were wrapped like a boxer’s. She nibbled on a green-painted nail.

“Not much,” she said, still looking at the maps pinned to the walls. “It’s a Rivan tale. They used to tell it to kids to keep them from swimming alone in the sea. ‘One single drop of blood spilled in the waves, and the Blood Tide will bring to you someone who will offer you everything you’ve ever wanted. But it comes with a price, and you must never accept.’ One of those tales.”

Eric nodded. That didn’t help him much. Riva was a kingdom bordering the north of Vellona, and they were in just as rough of a spot.

“Who’s the someone?” he asked. “A witch?”

She shrugged and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Maybe. Stories rarely got that far, and if kids asked, they’d tell us whatever seemed scariest at the time.”

“So the ghosts we saw are part of the Blood Tide,” said Eric. “How do the ghosts work?”

“Their ship’s real. We know that much. They’re not, though. Fighting them is worthless because we can’t touch them even though they can touch us. Swords, staffs—everything goes right through them. They can climb aboard ships and drag you over before you even notice they’re there. They can wield weapons, too, and we can touch the weapons they wield. Means we can only defend ourselves.” Nora pointed to a thin scar running along her jaw. “So Sauer made a rule. No blood. Soon as blood hits the water, their fog drags them to wherever the blood is.”

“And Sauer is certain it’s—”

The splintered door creaked open. Vanni and Gabriella slipped into the quarters and shut the door behind themselves. Vanni sat on the bed with Eric, and Gabriella took the only other chair. Her curls were still covered by Nora’s scarf, and her lip had been cleaned. Vanni’s bruised cheek was a brilliant purple. With four, the room was far too crowded.

“Sorry.” Gabriella held up both hands. “Grimsby was getting anxious about you being in here alone with her. He’s fine, by the way. Angry he lost the fight and had to resort to his pistol.”

“Yes,” drawled Nora, “I’m so likely to assassinate the prince who just offered me a pardon for telling him stories and babysitting him on his way to an island.”

Eric held back a laugh and shook his head. “Fine. We’re talking about the Blood Tide. Better if you know about it anyway.”

“We should get Max to train with a carpenter,” said Vanni, studying the ruined door. “Or set him on Sait.”

“Don’t encourage him,” muttered Eric, scratching Max’s head. “How is everyone?”

“Shaken up,” Gabriella said with a sigh, “but we’re on course to be home in two days. You?”

“Well, the Blood Tide’s real and grossly literal.” Eric inclined his head to Nora. “Old Rivan tale.”

“But why does it exist?” Gabriella asked.

“No clue,” Nora said. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Sorry. I could send some letters to the folks I know in Riva still, but that’s all I know about it.”

She was holding back, and for all of Eric’s charm, he wasn’t sure how to approach her. He could call her a guest until he was red in the face, but that wouldn’t make her trust him.

“We can talk more once we’re in the bay,” he said. When they were home, he would figure out what she wasn’t telling him. “We can talk about something else—have you encountered the pirates currently ravaging the western coasts?”

Her jaw tightened. “We have.”

“Are they being paid by Sait?” asked Eric.

“They’re being more than paid.” She laughed. “They’re not pirates at all. Sait spent a few years rounding up every pirate they could and ran them off or killed them. Those people raiding are mercenaries. The ships, the weapons, the orders they’re following—those are all Sait’s. Sauer hasn’t figured out what to do about them yet.”

“Well,” Vanni said, “that’s one mystery solved.”

“And you know the Blood Tide is real.” Gabriella wiped her face on her sleeve. “We all saw—”

“Different things,” said Eric quickly. “Don’t worry. No one knows what you saw. I saw my mother, and I think they show you what you would give the most to have.”

“But what are they?” said Vanni. “They can’t be ghosts. The person I saw isn’t dead.”

“My mother certainly is,” Eric said.

“Why bother offering us a deal, then? If they want us to go with them, there has to be some aim.” Gabriella leaned back in her chair and tapped one of the maps. “I know we said this wasn’t a current, but what if it’s fog?”

“None of us knows enough about magic to know what the fog is,” Nora said. “You don’t die when they pull you over, we don’t think. You vanish with them. Maybe to some lair. Maybe to their ship. Maybe you just become part of their crew. No one’s been able to resist or distract them long enough to find out.”

Eric hummed the song he had played for them, an old one his mother had taught him. “Now we know, though.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Eric could’ve sworn he heard his mother calling. Vanni shifted and rubbed an ear.

“Speaking of piracy, how are you Sauer’s second?” asked Gabriella suddenly. “You’re our age, and the north’s hurting, but given who’s doing most of the hurt, piracy seems like an odd thing to turn to.”

“Wasn’t the pirates hurting us when I joined Sauer. It was the storms and the starving.” Nora fiddled with her hair and squinted at Eric. “You really the prince?”

He nodded.

“Great,” she said. “You owe me and most folks up there some money.”

“How’d you get so good at fighting, though?” asked Vanni, rubbing his cheek.

She held up her finger and thumb. “Beating people who think they’re good,” she said, and curled her thumb into her palm. “Necessity.” Her finger curled down.

Gabriella snorted, and Nora turned to her.

“Keep my scarf, then, if you can,” she said.

Gabriella smiled. “Let’s see how good of a thief you are.”

Nora laughed, but her eyes darted to Eric.

“It would be hypocritical of me to arrest you for thievery now, I think,” said Eric. “You’ll like the bay, and we should be there for a few days before heading out again.”

“I’ll take my quiet north any day,” Nora said.

“Where will you take it?” Vanni asked.

Gabriella closed her eyes. “So help me…”

“Away from you,” said Nora flatly. “I’m a pirate, remember?”

Restlessness infected the ship. They held a funeral for the lost sailor their next full day at sea, no one daring to sing them off. The days passed easily, going by far faster than they had on their way north, and Eric spent too many hours staring at the maps and trying to get information about the Isle and Blood Tide from Nora. She told him plenty of old, gossipy tales about it, but he still felt like she was hiding something from him. The night before they reached Cloud Break, he was too tired to keep thinking about it. He found a quiet spot on the forecastle to relax.

Nearly everyone was on the deck preparing for something. He had stayed too long in the quarters and missed whatever was happening. Interestingly, though, Nora had already stolen back her green scarf and was wearing it like a trophy. Eric watched Gabriella’s gaze follow Nora’s path up the rigging to the nest, her cheeks unmistakably flushed, and he sighed, equal parts pleased and melancholy.

He had always dreamed of meeting the perfect person atop the waves. Maybe she was a visiting dignitary who preferred sailing to state meetings, or perhaps she would be some runaway noble who sang the sun down each day as they traveled across the world. But whenever Eric wanted to be swept up in the endless, intimate possibilities, he remembered his curse and pushed those desires away.

Footsteps approached Eric from the cabin. “I know you didn’t find this isle you were after, but surely that sort of frown isn’t warranted?”

“Suppose so,” Eric said, and turned toward Grimsby. At least he hadn’t found out Eric’s true reason for the voyage. “Though it’s a real pity you didn’t have your swords.”

Grimsby had taken every spare moment of the last few days to insist he could have beaten Sauer if he’d had his prized case of rapiers.

“Eleanora and I often considered ourselves family, you know,” said Grimsby. He leaned against the rail next to Eric. “And you a terrible, terrible nephew who never does what I ask.”

It was nearly dusk, the sun staining the sea a burnt orange, and it sapped the green tint from Grimsby’s white skin.

Eric chuckled. “You’re defining nephew.”

“Terrible,” Grimsby said one final time. “Your birthday is upon us whether you want to admit it or not.”

Barely a week until he turned eighteen and two until he was king. Two weeks to secure the line of succession.

“I know you wanted to celebrate at sea,” said Grimsby, “and I thought a celebration would be a nice way to help any heartache in case you failed.”

Eric groaned. “You did something, didn’t you?”

“Celebrating will do everyone some good. We must relax and recover from our recent peril, and Nora has assured me that the ghosts never travel this far,” said Grimsby. “Also, I set this up the moment you insisted on traveling, and I won’t let my planning go to waste.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Eric said with a small laugh.

“Yes, you do, and you know it would be the exact opposite of my suggestions.” Grimsby smiled and turned Eric around to face the rest of the ship. “Now, I have done something traditional and kind, which I am sure will go unappreciated, but we’ll get it out of the way first.”

Vanni and the cook emerged from the galley with baskets of food and a crate of drinks between them. The rest of the crew was struggling to carry something from the hold, and Gabriella hid her laughter behind her hands. It was tall and heavy, a sheet of canvas covering it. The same dread Eric got when asked to give a speech without preparation spread through him.

“You know,” said Eric, “let’s save the surprise for once everyone’s rested from lifting it.”

Maybe he could tip it into the sea before then.

Grimsby huffed. Eric grabbed his flute and joined a fiddler, playing a quick, leaping song with them. Vanni and Gabriella stumbled around the deck in a laughterfilled dance, and Max chased after them. The rest of the crew joined in, singing louder once the first minute of music didn’t draw any ghosts, and someone at the stern started an arm wrestling contest. Vanni eventually dragged Eric into the dance. The beat of the music rattled through him in looping, unrestrained strides. Eric let himself relax and tried to forget the terror of the Blood Tide.

A low crack echoed across the water, fireworks painting the night sky with brilliant reds and blues. Squawking gulls glided in and out of the smoke in a tangled tarantella, and on the other side of the deck, Max sniffed at a scupper hole in the rail. The white feathers of a gull peeked out from behind the rail.

“Max!” Eric whistled and pulled out his flute. “Here, boy!”

Max let out a quiet ah-woo, and Eric answered him with a birdlike song. The old wooden fipple flute was nothing like his fancy concert flute, but the soft sounds were far more comforting. It was like being called home.

Max danced around him, and he rubbed Max’s side till his fur stood straight up. “You like the fireworks?”

The boom of the fireworks drowned out Max’s bark, and the dog chased after the shadows of the rigging on the deck. Gabriella, re-stolen scarf atop her curls, chased Max around Eric. A familiar clearing throat stopped Max in his tracks.

“Now!” Grimsby strutted to the center of the deck and gestured to the large canvas-covered monstrosity behind him. “It is now my honor and privilege to present our esteemed Prince Eric—”

“Steamed?” muttered Gabriella, stopping next to Eric. “Well, that’s why no one will marry you.”

“With a very special, very expensive, very large birthday present,” continued Grimsby.

“Ah, Grimsby. You old beanpole. You shouldn’t have.” Eric gently punched Grimsby on the back and smiled. “Why did you drag it out here with us?”

“I imagine that will be clear shortly,” said Grimsby. One of the nearby sailors pulled away the canvas.

It was a statue, because of course it was a statue. Eric had avoided sitting for portraits as much as possible, and he had only rejoiced when Grimsby stopped pestering him about it. This massive thing did bear some likeness to him, but it was too tall, too muscular, and too proud.

At least Grimsby had made sure the artist knew he was left-handed.

“No wonder we were riding low,” muttered one of the crew.

Eric bit his bottom lip to keep from responding and scrunched up his face. Max growled at it. At least Max wouldn’t confuse the two of them.

“Gee, Grim. It’s, uh…” Eric rubbed his neck and searched for the words. This was why Grimsby usually did the talking. “It’s really something.”

He couldn’t say it was a waste; that was rude to Grimsby and whichever poor soul had carved it. The statue was beautiful, detailed, and nuanced in its decadence. They’d gotten his face and hair right without ever having seen him, though the expression felt a little too upturned. The brows, too.

Or maybe that was what people meant when they said Eric was expressive. He had always assumed they meant transparent.

“Would you guess that none of us wanted to steal that?” Nora asked, and laughed.

“You couldn’t have carried it even if you did,” said Gabriella.

Nora raised one arm and flexed. “If it were a statue of me, I’d have found a way.”

Grimsby ignored it all. “Yes, I commissioned it myself. Of course, I had hoped it would be a wedding present.” He dropped his voice and raised a brow at Eric. “Especially since the king of Glowerhaven insisted on paying for it.”

Ah, there it was.

“Come on, Grim, don’t start,” Eric said, laughing. “Look, you’re not still sore because I didn’t fall for the princess of Glowerhaven, are you?”

“Eric, it isn’t me alone,” said Grimsby. “The entire kingdom wants to see you happily settled down with the right person.”

That again. Eric went to the rail and looked out over the sea, the smoke of the fireworks a gray veil over the night. Fireworks cracked and flashed above them.

“She’s out there somewhere,” he said. Knowing there was someone out there perfect for him was the one beautiful thing his curse had granted him. “I just haven’t found her yet.

Grimsby grunted. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough.”

“Believe me, Grim, when I find her, I’ll know. Without a doubt, it’ll just hit me like lightning!” Eric clapped, and a burst of thunder shuddered through the night. He threw his head back.

Clouds—not smoke, but swirling clouds the same inky hue as the night.

“Hurricane a-coming!” shouted a sailor from the crow’s nest. “Stand fast! Secure the rigging!”

Stillness blanketed the ship, and then everyone moved. Eric leapt to his feet, grabbing one of the ropes to tie back. Vanni gathered up everything loose on the deck and rushed it to the forecastle, and Gabriella sprinted to the wheel. The wind picked up, tossing gulls from the rigging and rails. A wave smacked the hull. Max whimpered.

“It came out of nowhere!” Nora shouted, yanking hard to keep one of the sails from being ripped away. “Which one of you pissed off Triton?”

Gabriella and the crew shouted instructions. A rogue wave swept over the ship, and Eric barely caught himself on the mast. Water soaked him to the bone, burning his eyes, and tore Gabriella away from the wheel. Her head cracked against the rail, and Eric lunged. She stumbled, clutching her head. The wheel spun wildly.

“Grim!” Eric grabbed the wheel, and the handles dug into his palms. “Gabriella!”

Neither answered.

Another wave washed over the ship, rocking it to its side, and half the crew vanished in a blink. Eric’s arms burned with the effort of keeping the wheel steady. This close to Vellona, they could run aground or hit a reef.

“The boats!” Gabriella dragged herself to her feet and waved to Nora. “Ropes in the water now!”

The ship steadied. If Eric could keep the ship upright, they could ride it out. Nora led the way. A squall whipped over the deck, and the ship pitched. Lightning struck the mast, and it burst into flames. The rigging went up, and the wheel yanked against Eric’s grip, forcing him to his knees. The fire devoured the mainsail and illuminated the night. A dark shadow broke through the waves ahead of them.

“Rocks!” a sailor at the prow shouted, and threw himself back.

The tiller rope snapped. Eric cursed, and the wheel spun wildly. The ship slammed into the rocks. Eric crashed against the rail and plummeted into the sea.

Darkness and cold pressed into his chest. Eric wind-milled his arms and kicked, struggling to break the surface. A strong hand gripped his arm and hauled him into a rowboat. Vanni smacked his back.

“Grim!” Eric leaned over the boat, half standing, to look over the waves. The flickering light of the fire glinted off a state ring. Eric lunged for the hands grasping from beneath the water. “Hang on.”

He pulled Grimsby into the boat and fell back. Then, a howl echoed over the water.

“Max!” Eric dove without thinking, hoping everyone else was safe, and climbed up onto the crashed ship. Fire lapped at the deck and had already reduced the forecastle to splintered bones. Max woofed and whimpered at the flames lapping at the high deck he was trapped on. Eric scrambled to him and shouted for anyone else. No one answered.

“Jump, Max!” Eric beckoned to him and winced at the heat searing his skin. The wood under his feet was too warm for comfort. “You can do it.”

Eric held out his arms, tapped his chest, and pleaded. Across the deck, the fire crept closer to an overturned barrel of black powder. The boards beneath him creaked.

“Come on, boy,” shouted Eric.

The dog woofed and leapt, slamming into Eric’s chest with a howl. Eric sprinted toward the taffrail, and the deck cracked. His foot plunged through the wood, and he tossed Max as hard as he could. The dog vanished over the side of the ship.

“Eric!” Grimsby’s shout barely reached him.

Eric tried to answer but choked on smoke. Pain shot through his ankle, and his heart stopped with each clunk of the loose barrels rolling across the fiery deck. Eric tugged at his foot, but the broken boards held fast. The ship pitched into the rocks.

And the world exploded.

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