Deathmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 4) Read online

  “Aye,” Zelda said, stomping up beside Archer and pulling her away from her thoughts. Sir Jonius was with her, too, but it was Zelda with the loose tongue. “Tomorrow at dawn at the latest. The winds have been favorable.” She munched on an apple, whittling it down to the core, which she tossed over the railing. A second apple appeared in her hand a moment later. She took a large bite. The lingering injury to her shoulder hadn’t affected her appetite one bit.

  “What will we find in Crimea, I wonder?” Annise said.

  “Crimeans,” Zelda said with a wink. “And King Streit, who will be none too pleased for having unexpected royal guests from the Four Kingdoms showing up at the gates of his castle.”

  “He should’ve thought about that before he decided to ignore my streams.”

  “Aye,” Zelda agreed. “And he’d better hide the keys to his larder or we shall eat him out of a year’s worth of foodstuffs. I grow weary of salt beef and mealy apples.”

  “At least the weather has been kind to us,” Archer pointed out. “The rock and sway of the ship has been just the recipe for a good night’s sleep.”

  Annise had the urge to hurl him over the side. “Yes. Just the recipe,” she said instead, glaring at him. His smile told her he’d said it to bait her.

  Still, he was smart enough to change the subject before he was sent for a salty swim. “How’s the monster in your head?” he asked Tarin.

  Tarin growled.

  “It was just a question,” Archer said, grinning. Ever since he’d overheard Tarin and Annise talking about “the monster,” he never failed to bring it up once a day.

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Annise said. “Remember his stone-crushing, iron-bending hands I showed you?”

  “Sometimes when you talk about your troubles it makes them easier to bear.”

  Tarin moved like lightning, an impressive feat given his size. Archer cried out and tried to scamper back down the steps, but was a hair too slow. Tarin grabbed him from behind, cinching his thick forearms across the prince’s chest, picking him up. He dangled him over the railing just as a large waved crashing into the side, spraying Archer in the face.

  “I submit!” Annise’s brother cried.

  “This isn’t a tourney,” Tarin said, dropping him half a foot before catching him.

  Archer squealed.

  Tarin continued. “And anyway. The monster inside me knows no mercy.” Another foot down. Another high-pitched squeal that Annise planned to remind her brother of as often as she found opportunity.

  “I swear I won’t mention the…unmentionable thing…again,” Archer pleaded, his hands scrabbling to grab the railing.

  “Nor my cousin’s relationship with Sir Metz?”

  “Yes! I swear it!”

  As quickly as he’d hefted Archer up, Tarin tossed him back on deck. “You’re mad,” Archer said, rolling to his feet. “The lot of you.” Half-stumbling, he raced down the steps where, Annise expected, he would seek comfort in his western maiden’s arms.

  Annise couldn’t hold back the laugh any longer, though it made her queasy and she was forced to spew over the railing again. When she’d recovered, she asked, “How is our monster friend anyway?” Ever since they’d been reunited at Darrin, the monster had been strangely silent—at least in her head. Perhaps because she’d come up with a theory on how to dispel it.

  Tarin gave her a look. Even with her he was reluctant to talk about what he considered to be his curse. Annise gestured to Zelda to give them a moment alone. Shrugging, her aunt started on a third apple and descended the steps.

  Sir Jonius lingered. “Sir. Did you need something?” Annise asked.

  “She’s right, you know,” he said. “What Zelda said about King Streit. You have to be prepared for a…hostile welcoming.”

  Annise sighed. “I am prepared for such an eventuality. I can be…political.” Even the snide way in which she said the word told the true story. “I can try, at least.”

  “That might not be good enough.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Allow me to speak to the king first. He knows who I am, that I have been loyal to the north my entire life.”

  Annise didn’t point out that most of that service was for her father as hired muscle. “As you wish,” she said instead.

  “Thank you.” He bowed and departed.

  Annise turned toward Tarin, whose eyes were still dark, his muscles tensed as if for a fight. “It’s me, Tarin. The one whose hair you’ve been holding as she vomits her guts out.”

  He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to being open about…things.”

  “Yes…things.”

  “The monster has been quiet,” Tarin said. “It’s angry I didn’t require its services during the battle with the Brotherhood.”

  “About that…” Annise said.

  “What is it?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “About the monster?”

  “Yes. And how to get rid of it. If you wanted to.”

  Tarin froze. His eyes seemed to search hers, and though she could usually read his expression, she couldn’t now. “I thought you said it was a part of me. That it didn’t bother you.”

  “It is. And it doesn’t. But it bothers you. And that bothers me. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” Tarin said. “Well, most of the time. You make me happy…”

  “But…” she prodded.

  “But I’m still afraid you’re in danger whenever you’re with me. That I’m too weak to hold the monster back. That one day it’ll grow tired of being in the background and try to…” He left the rest unfinished.

  Annise hated to see him like this. Tarin Sheary was the strongest man she knew, in both body and mind, and yet he thought himself weak? “Pain,” she blurted out, feeling slightly ill, and not because of the roiling ocean.

  “What?”

  “When I was in great pain in the Hinterlands, the monster recoiled. Faded. Didn’t disappear, not entirely. But weakened for sure. The same thing happened to you in Darrin, right? When they almost killed you?”

  Tarin frowned, staring out at sea, as if searching for the memory. “I…yes. I remember when I thought it was almost over. How the monster seemed to slip away. For a few moments, I almost felt…myself again. Alone, in a really good way. But it always comes back. When I recover, it always comes back.”

  “If the pain was intense enough, and lasted long enough…” Bile rose in the back of her throat at the thought of the love of her life enduring any amount of pain, much less the sort she was talking about. But anything was worth his happiness.

  “You want to torture me?” A grim smile ghosted across his lips.

  She smiled back. “I don’t want to, but I will. If it will help you. Or I’ll hire someone to do it. Perhaps Archer. I heard he’s looking for revenge for that stunt you just pulled.”

  “I—I don’t know,” Tarin said. “I have to think. I—thank you for telling me this. I know it was hard for you.”

  “Not that hard,” she said, pressing her lips to his. “Now hold back my hair while I vomit.”

  As it turned out, the western captain’s estimation was perfect. Midway through the night, the call of “Land!” arose, dragging Annise from her slumber.

  Tarin whispered, “How do you feel?”

  She considered the question. She hadn’t thrown up in a few hours and her stomach felt more…even. “Better. I’ve received a respite, or perhaps the seas grow calmer as we approach landfall.”

  “Good news,” Tarin said, already dressing. This time, he began pulling his armor over his ship clothes. Annise did the same, hearing similar sounds of awakening from the adjacent cabins. A loud yawn arose somewhere. Archer. There was a knock on their door.

  “One moment.” It was more like several minutes as they lit a lantern and helped each other with their plate. At long last, Annise fastened her Evenstar to her belt and opened the door.


  Sir Metz stood at attention, looking as refreshed as always, his hair perfectly combed to the side, his own armor oiled and gleaming. A longsword hung at his belt. “They’ve spotted land, Your Highness,” he said, bowing stiffly.

  “Truly? We were not aware.”

  He frowned. “Then you must sleep soundly, for the man in the crow’s nest has been shouting at the top of his—” He clamped his mouth shut abruptly. “That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

  Annise nodded with a thin smile. “Bravo, Sir. You are growing more accustomed to wit and levity.”

  “Mona—I mean, Private Sheary—has been helping.”

  Annise looked back to see Tarin’s expression, a mixture of death and murder gleaming in his eyes. Sir Metz, however, was as oblivious as ever. “Come. I will escort you above.”

  Once upon a time, Annise might’ve stubbornly refused his escort, but now she’d grown to enjoy his knightly pampering. “Lead the way,” she said.

  Tarin fell in behind her, growling in her ear. “If he mentions my cousin’s familiar name once more in my presence I’m going to smear dirt on every shard of his armor.”

  Annise snorted. To the peculiar knight, that would be a punishment worse than death.

  A door opened to her right and Archer stumbled out, his hair mussed, his eyes bloodshot. “You look…awful,” she said, slipping easily into her sisterly duties, which included pointing out her brother’s flaws, which were few.

  “I only just fell asleep,” he muttered.

  “More board games?”

  His only response was a yawn. He seemed to only just notice Tarin towering behind him and flinched, darting ahead to put Annise between them. Tarin growled and Archer slipped past Sir Metz, who glared at him, muttering something about lack of honor and childish behavior.

  Annise smiled. All was right in her world, even her own stomach having ceased its war against her. She was ready to see Crimea, to learn where her ancestors came from, and, if necessary, to berate King Streit for ignoring her numerous messages.

  Sir Jonius appeared just as she had the latter thought, giving her a wry look as if he’d read her mind. She blushed and turned away. Be political, she reminded herself. She’d almost rather face a fresh army of sellswords.

  Above decks, it was far lighter than she expected. Some in the Four Kingdoms would call it an auspicious night, when the moons finally reached their fullness together, meeting for a single kiss that lasted no more than a moment before they parted once more. Though it was still hours away, the moons lit up the sky and water, painting crossing tracks all the way to a dark shore growing closer and closer.

  Seamen scurried hither and thither, cinching ropes, managing the sails, preparing the anchors and gangway for landing. The merchant captain, a broad-chested man with a rosy-cheeked face weathered by wind and salt spray, shouted out orders as he clenched the wheel.

  Annise moved to the forward railing as the ship cut through the waters. Her eyes locked on the shoreline, which was angled with dark rocks. Beyond was a land of cliffs and boulders, stretching as far as the eye could see. “Where is the harbor?” she asked, expecting to see long docks jettying out from the land, ships at anchor, heavy laden and prepared to sail come dawn, dock security guards lounging and smoking, telling japes about each other’s mothers.

  Instead there were only bleak, silent cliffs.

  The captain overheard her question, craning his head skyward to study the moons and stars. After a few moments, he said, “The currents and trade winds were strong. I fear we missed our mark by at least a day of sea travel up the coastline.”

  Annise closed her eyes. It was like receiving a gift only to have it ripped away and promised for another day. She wanted it now. Her stomach wanted it now. “Can you anchor here?” she asked.

  The captain frowned, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Aye, but—”

  “Do you know the terrain? Can we travel overland?”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “How long to reach the first city? How long to reach Moray?” Moray was the harbor city they’d intended to anchor at, had the seas and wind cooperated. From there, it was a long ten-day march to the Crimean capital, Rockland, even if they managed to procure horses, provisions, and carts.

  The captain lifted one hand from the wheel to rub his beard. “Overland? Two days at the most if you march hard.”

  Two days on land or one day at sea? Annise would trade ten to one for land travel. “We anchor as soon as possible.”

  The captain looked like he was considering brooking an argument, but then sighed, resigned. “As you wish, Your Highness. After you make landfall beneath the cliffs, my crew and I will sail north and meet you at Moray.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “Are you certain?” Sir Jonius asked.

  “If you wish to make a political appearance first, this is your opportunity,” she said.

  He seemed to consider it for a moment, but then shook his head. “I shall stay with my queen.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, before turning away to take in the landscape once more. She had the urge to leap off the ship and swim for shore.

  Tarin, who’d remained silent for the entire exchange, said, “At least we’ll get to take in the scenery firsthand.” Annise snorted. As far as she could see, Crimea was a land of rocks and, well, more rocks. Even the cold of winter was preferable—at least snowy hills and valleys were pleasing to the eye.

  Archer eased over, his arm scooped around the maiden he was so fond of. She giggled slightly. “Where’s Moray?” he asked.

  “We missed our mark. We shall travel overland.”

  “Surely you jest.” The rocky landscape drew ever closer, the shard-like cliffs seeming to raise long shadows across the water like weapons meant to pierce any ships that sailed too near.

  “Do I look amused? She will stay with the ship. You will march with the rest of us.”

  The girl humphed and Archer opened his mouth to protest, but the combined look of Tarin and Annise stopped him. “Fine.” He kissed his latest fancy on the lips. “We shall reunite in Moray.”

  “I will count the days. And the nights.”

  “You shan’t even need to remove your shoes then,” Annise said. “Two days. One night. You’ll survive.”

  The girl’s mouth opened in a silent expression of shock, but she scurried away.

  “Was that really necessary?” Archer said, frowning.

  “Yes. She is trying my patience.”

  “She has a name. Marietta.”

  “Aye. Marietta is trying my patience. As are you.”

  “She’s a nice girl. And a fantastic kiss—”

  Tarin feinted at Archer and he shut up, darting away to speak with the captain and Sir Jonius.

  Zelda took the opportunity to steal his position beside Annise. “No wonder the Crimeans have coveted the Four Kingdoms for so long,” she said. “The land looks about as inviting as the backside of a hog.”

  “Without the promise of bacon,” Tarin agreed.

  “Mmm,” Zelda said. From one of the many pockets sewn into her cloak she withdrew several strips of salted bacon, crunching down on them hard.

  Annise’s stomach grumbled from hunger, the first time in days. Zelda apparently heard it, because she handed one of her strips to her niece. Annise stared at the meat like it was the greatest gift she’d ever received; considering Zelda’s affinity for stealing the food of others, it was a generous gift indeed.

  Annise savored every bite while the cliffs drew nearer, until the shadows surrounded the entire ship.

  The captain barked orders, sailors leapt into action, swinging the sails around, retying knots. A massive iron anchor was hefted over the side and dropped into the water with a resounding splash. The ship eased onward, the chain uncoiling until eventually it went taut and the ship jerked to a stop, swaying slightly.

  “You’ll have to use the boats,” the captain said, finally turning away
from the wheel. “I’ll send four of my men along to row them back. We’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  “Thank you,” Annise said. “You have served the north well.”

  He grunted, waving her off. “I serve at the pleasure of the queen of the west. But you’re welcome. I shall endeavor to return you safely to the Four Kingdoms when your business is concluded.” He attempted a bow, but it looked awkward. Blushing, he strode away, barking more orders.

  Small boats were prepared—four in total—each containing several of the northerners along with an experienced sailor to navigate the tricky currents.

  As they sliced through the water, Tarin used his large frame to shield Annise from the wind, which had something of a bite to it. Archer sat with one leg up, his finger trailing idly in the current.

  Soon the dark cliffs loomed over them, and Annise realized she might’ve been looking at the Black Cliffs of Darrin, so near was the resemblance. Archer seemed to be thinking the same thing. “We’ll be cut to ribbons trying to scale them.”

  The sailor assigned to their vessel drew the oars back, and said, “Make your way down the beach until you find a crack in the cliffs. They are narrow, but passable. On occasion the earth shakes in Crimea and the rocks tear apart. Lucky for you.”

  Aye. Lucky for us. Frozen hell. Annise had heard of these earthquakes, but had never experienced one. She’d take a blizzard over the ground moving beneath her feet any day.

  The waters became rougher as they approached the “beach,” though Annise thought that was the wrong word for it. More like “jagged-stone path at the foot of treacherous cliffs,” though that was probably too long to use in normal conversation. Beach it is! Annise thought wryly.

  Disembarking from the boats essentially involved leaping at one’s own peril into swirling chest-high waters as waves tried to smash her onto the blade-like rocks. Zelda, even with only one good arm, seemed as steady as the rocks she clambered over, as did Jonius. Annise and Tarin also managed it well enough, while Archer required a firm hand from one of Metz’s female soldiers, else he would’ve been knocked over.