Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One (52 page)

“I need the
merchant and the whisperer,” he snapped over the top of their chatting.

Uncle Martin
looked up from where he’d been admiring Aerilyn’s latest disastrous work of art
— a pair of white-socked kittens with their furry faces melted together
— and frowned. “Whatever for?”

“Geist said I’m
to teach them how to dance. Lysander’s already waiting, and the sooner we get
this over with, the sooner I can get back to my work.”

“Oh, your old
woman can wait,” Uncle Martin said with a laugh. “That’s the beauty of being in
love with something that weighs nearly a thousand pounds — it’s not like
she’s going anywhere!”

Thelred glared
at him. “You’ve only got an hour of my time. So if you want to learn, I suggest
you get off your rumps and follow me.”

“To the
ballroom!” Uncle Martin declared.

“Dancing, eh?
Good thing I just happen to have my fiddle,” Jonathan said with a wink. And he
pulled the instrument out from under his napkin.

Thelred swore
loudly.

*******

The ballroom was
nearly as big as the library, but it was completely empty. Uncle Martin had to
drag in a chair from another part of the house in order to have a place to
critique them from. “Tickle her for me, will you?” he called as Thelred took
his place.

The mystery girl
turned out to be an enormous piano. Kael had only ever read about them, and he
knew only the wealthiest nobles could afford to keep them. “Where did you find
that?” he asked.

“Wendelgrimm,”
Thelred said from over his shoulder.

“It’s more bulk
than worth, if you want my opinion,” Aerilyn muttered to Kael, rather
haughtily. “I do believe it was the most impractical trinket in the entire
castle.”

“What did you
choose, then?”

“This,” she
said, waving to her dress. It was powder blue and looked elaborate enough for a
queen.

She fanned out
her skirts and twirled, revealing the intricate white lace beneath it. And Kael
thought she might have found the one thing more impractical than a piano among
the Witch’s treasures.

A sudden string
of noise drew his eyes to the opposite end of the room. For all his stomping
and cursing under breath, the second Thelred touched the piano, the whole room
filled with music. He played only a few quick notes, but they rang out so
sweetly that Kael had to stop to listen.

Aerilyn ran into
him from behind. “I hope this isn’t a sign of your skills,” she said wryly.

But
unfortunately for both of them, it was.

Lysander spun
her around the room a few times, just to show Kael the steps. They moved
through a waltz like fish through water, laughing and carrying on as they went.
Every now and then, Aerilyn had to jerk Lysander’s hand back up her waist
— from where it’d been wandering dangerously close to her rump.

The dance ended
when she slapped him full across the face and stomped away.

“And that’s how
it’s done!” Lysander said. He took a deep bow while Jonathan and Uncle Martin
applauded.

“Horrible
rogue,” Aerilyn muttered as Kael got his feet into position. But for all her
fussing, he didn’t think she looked particularly upset. “At least I can count
on you to be a perfect gentleman.”

Gentleman he
was, but dancer he most certainly was not. The whole idea of prancing around to
music was ridiculous to him. He didn’t understand how anyone could enjoy
looking so completely foolish. He tried to make the steps as quick and
un-flourished as possible — which didn’t turn out well.

“Ow!” Aerilyn
hopped away from him as the music ground to a halt. “Kael, that’s the twelfth time
this dance!”

“I’m sorry
—”

“I don’t know if
my toes can take it any longer. At this rate, you’ll have me peg legged before
sunrise!”

“Can you not
just step to the beat, man?” Thelred grumped, dragging his hands down his face
in exasperation. “Or are mountain children born idiots?”

“There’s no call
for that,” Uncle Martin said before Kael could retort. “I, for one, would like
to see him take the lead every now and then. It doesn’t do to keep a woman at
the helm.”

“Agreed,”
Lysander said. “Try holding her tightly, Kael. There should be inches between
you, not leagues.”

He was
absolutely not going to do that. “I don’t see why it matters if I’m any good or
not. Everyone looks like a fool dancing.”

“Though some
more than others,” Thelred muttered.

Kael had a very
inventive reply at the ready, but at that moment Geist walked through the door.
“I was wondering if I might borrow Aerilyn,” he said, and his voice had the
snuffing effect of a damp towel on their argument.

“Yes, you may.
We’ll just pick up here tomorrow,” Aerilyn said as she hurried to follow Geist
out the door. Kael had every intention of going right behind them when Lysander
leapt in his path.

“Just where do
you think you’re headed?”

“I had a very
slim shot at freedom, and I was planning to take it.”

Lysander spun
him around and shoved him back into the room. “No, you aren’t going anywhere.
Not until we get this dancing mess sorted out.”

“But my
partner’s just run off, incase you haven’t noticed.”

“We’ll just have
to find you a new one.”

“I don’t want
—”

“Either we find
you a new girl, or you’re dancing with Jonathan. It’s entirely your choice.”

Kael glanced at
the fiddler, who made a very pronounced kissing face at him, and decided on the
lesser of two tortures. “Fine. Get another girl.”

Lysander stuck
his head into the hallway and glanced around for a likely victim. “Ahoy there,
Kyleigh. Would you help me with something?”

Jonathan and
Uncle Martin let out simultaneous
Ooooo
s
as she said she would. Kael was so humiliated he thought he was in danger of
burning through his clothes.

When Kyleigh saw
him, she raised an eyebrow. “Why do you look as if you’ve just taken an arrow
to the rump?”

This made the
others burst out laughing, while Kael burned all the redder.

“I was hoping
you might help us teach him to dance,” Lysander said when he managed to catch
his breath.

Kael was fed up
with their teasing, and thought if he stayed another moment he might be forced
to put a rather large dent in the side of Jonathan’s head. “This is ridiculous.
I’m turning in,” he said, before he could hear Kyleigh’s refusal.

He tried to
leave, but she grabbed him by the arm and held him like a vise. “I’ll be glad
to help. Which dance?”

“Oh, I don’t
know …” Lysander’s mouth bent in a mischievous grin, “how about
Moonlit Lovers
?”

Kael would have
given him an exceptionally rude gesture, had his hand been free: Lysander knew
very well how much he hated that dance. But nothing, not even his swears could
keep the music from playing. Though he fought with all his might, Kyleigh
pulled him into her.

“I don’t want to
do this,” he said, but she ignored him. She laced her fingers in his and stuck
his other hand to her waist. Fire rose in his stomach again and he wrestled it
back as she began the steps.

He glared down
at her feet to avoid having to look her in the eyes. “You should probably put
some shoes on. Aerilyn left because I squashed her toes flat.”

“You’ll have to
do worse than that to get rid of me.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and
the flames swelled up. “Why do you look as if you’re in pain?”

Because I
am
in pain
, he thought. “It’s nothing. Let’s just get through this.”

“All right.”

She took a step
that caught him off guard, a turn he wasn’t expecting. He had to rush to catch
up with her. “That’s not one of the steps.”

She laughed.
“Oh? Says who?”

“Says everyone!
It’s not the way it was written.”

“We aren’t
mixing potions — we’re dancing. I can almost promise that we won’t
explode if we add in a few things.”

“Still, if I’m
to learn this, I ought to learn it properly.”

“I think you’re
scared.”

He met her eyes.
“I most certainly am not.”

“Just try to
keep up,” she said, grinning.

He accepted her
challenge. He refused to let her beat him at something so ridiculous. Whatever
steps she came up with, he matched. She turned, and he anticipated. She spun,
and he was there to catch her. They moved with the music: stepping in,
touching, pulling away. Intertwined for some notes, tangled limb for limb. Then
separated, yearning, and finally pulled back in.

He could feel
the sweat on his brow and feel his lungs burning for air. The fiddle thrummed
the chords of his heart and the piano told him where to put his feet. He
sparred with his partner, locked in a desperate battle. He watched the bend of
her arms and the arch of her neck, waiting hungrily for the thrill of her next
move. And when it came, he was ready.

Then the music
stopped.

Their bodies
locked in the final motion. Feeling came back to his limbs. He was first aware
of the hand clenched in his, how their forearms were latched together just as
tightly as their fingers. Then he felt his other arm, strong and confident,
wrapped around her waist. She clung to the wrist of that arm. In the lingering
fervor of the dance, he knew she wasn’t trying to pull him away: it was
desperation that sewed her to him. In the throb of her fingertips, she begged
him to stay.

He drew breath,
and so did she. They breathed together, every contour of their bodies mashed
into one. His breath moved the wisps of hair on the back of her neck, the ones
that must’ve pulled free as they spun.

And then fire.

He tore himself
loose and staggered backwards. Lysander called after him, asked him where he
was going, but Kael didn’t stop. He couldn’t explain the ache in his chest.
He’d never known a pain like this. There was no salve for this wound, there was
no way he could mend it.

He staggered
back to his room and slammed the door. He turned the key so hard that it
snapped in the lock. He let the broken half fall to the floor and tried to
wrestle his pain away, but he couldn’t. It was too powerful, too relentless.
His whole body convulsed with the torment of it. He knew that if he didn’t do
something, he would die. So he turned and brought both of his fists down on the
top of the dresser — as hard as he could.

The wood split
in half and showered splinters into the top drawer. He sat down hard on the
edge of the bed, his hands still shaking from the effort. He’d tried so hard to
bury it, to hide it in the deepest, darkest part of his soul. And then that
stupid dance …

Slowly, he
calmed. His chest was sore, but the worst of the pain was gone. “Don’t be a
fool,” he said to himself between every ragged breath. He glared at the
shattered drawer, and his nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists.
“Don’t be a fool.”

The morning before the Duke’s
party, Kael’s nerves finally caught up with him. He was so worried over his
plan, so lost in scenarios that he could hardly stay in the present for more
than a few moments at a time.

“I said to raise your glass, lad!”

Uncle Martin’s
bark startled him back into the dining room. He muttered an apology and grabbed
the small crystal glass in front of him. It was filled to the brim with a
dangerous-looking green liquid. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it might
actually be smoking.

“Gravy grog
— a pirate’s liquid courage,” Uncle Martin said, grinning around the
table. “A swig on the morn of any adventure, and you’re guaranteed not to
regret it until you’re too far out to turn back.”

Jake took an
apprehensive whiff of his glass and made a face. “What’s in it?”

Uncle Martin
frowned. “I can’t tell you.”

“Because it’s a
secret?”

“No —
because my great grandfather lost the recipe! Every batch is different: we just
sort of add things in the mix as we find them. Now,” he tipped his glass
higher, “may the winds be fair, and the maids even fairer. Gravy’s luck go with
you!”

At his lead,
they took a deep breath and threw their grog back.

It was at least
a thousand times more potent than ale. Kael didn’t let it touch his tongue, but
it still torched his throat as it slid down. Then it hit his gut and exploded.
He fell on the ground, coughing madly. He tried desperately to keep his lungs
from burning up. He blinked through the tears in his eyes and saw that he was not
alone: everyone but Kyleigh had collapsed under the table.

“I’m dying!”
Jonathan gasped as he clutched at his throat.

Jake’s nose and
eyes leaked freely, his face was covered in sweat. Aerilyn and had her arms
around her gut and groaned as she lay on her side. Thelred and Lysander swore
magnificently between coughs.

“I think this
may have been the batch with the serpent venom — the one Matteo and I
mixed as a joke,” Uncle Martin wheezed from where he lay spread-eagle under his
chair. “I think he’d be pleased to know that the only one of us who can stand
it breathes fire half the time!”

*******

The grog did its
work well. When the burning faded from his lungs, the rest of the afternoon
became a distant memory — albeit one that was slightly blurred around the
edges. It was only after they were well out to sea that Kael realized what he’d
done.

The fog cleared
from his eyes and he started to see the faces around him more clearly. He
recognized many of the pirates from his original voyage on
Anchorgloam
: men who’d been separated from their loved ones for
years before. And now they were back at sea, hoisting sails, climbing through
the rigging, sharpening their blades — preparing for battle.