Isle of Wysteria: The Reluctant Queen (51 page)

“I will not be made the enemy here. I didn’t design this world, okay? The gods did. I refuse to take responsibility for the way things are.”

“That is a load of dung and you know it. You could have been born a slave and he could have been born a slavemaster. It is only by mere chance that you are where you are. In the end, you are just one of the lucky ones, nothing more. Try to show a little gratitude for being born with everything.”

“I don’t want to be grateful!” Athel screamed, losing all control. “I...I want you guys to have it too! Okay? I don’t want to keep the link to myself, I want everyone to have it!”

Athel felt completely overwhelmed. It seemed like everything was being taken from her. Her forest would take her freedom, her enemies would take her life, and Setsuna would take Privet from her. It was all so infuriating. What was the point of having anything if the world existed only to rob them from you? What was the point of connecting if those ties are only to be severed? The world just took and took and took, and what did it give in return?

Everyone went quiet after her outburst. The only sound was that of Athel panting. “But I can’t...I can’t change anything, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have something that I can’t share. I would if I could.”

Unable to sit still a moment longer, Athel ran down below deck.

A piece of food fell out of Ryin’s open mouth. “Did she just...apologize?”

“I didn’t even know she knew how to apologize,” Margaret said.

“Aye,” Evere said knowingly. “She has changed a great deal since we first met her.”

In celebration, Setsuna squeezed Privet’s arm and sat back, looking smugly satisfied with herself. Privet shoved her off of him in disgust and ran after Athel.

He managed to catch up to her in the hallway.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” Privet asked.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Athel defended, trying to control the swirl of emotions inside of her.

Privet stepped closer, and the look in his deep eyes told her he was not mocking. “Tell me this isn’t all an act, Athel.”

Athel wiped her sleeve across her face to make sure there were no tears visible. “What?”

“Doing Alder’s chores with him, treating him the way you do, claiming to regret punishing him. It feels like your putting on some kind of act, a show for the others.”

“I’m not putting on a show,” she contended. “Why would you think that?”

Privet stepped back and scratched the stubble on his chin, as if her were considering whether or not to say something. “I've been watching you and him closely, looking for some sort of indication that you were faking it.”

“You were watching me?”

He nodded sincerely. “Believe me, I wanted so bad to trust it, but I've seen acts like this before, so it’s hard to swallow, even when I want to.”

Athel widened her stance and looked at him straight with her beautiful brown eyes. “No, it’s not an act.”

“Can you promise me you're being sincere?”

“Why?”

Privet exhaled and leaned back against the bulkhead. “I never told you what happened when I came back to Wysteria,” he admitted. “When I joined the Navy, I was free, like really free. My matron had passed away while I was off with her on a trip. No one knew to look for me and I belonged to nobody. A million-to-one chance. The kind of thing every young boy dreams about when he lays on the floor at night, his back stinging from the lashes, his fingers burning from the labor. A fairy-tale ending and it happened to me. And what did I do with that freedom? I threw it away. So help me, I tossed that gift in the rubbish. All because I met a Wysterian girl, Aden Buckthorn.

“I know her,” Athel added, listening intently.

“We spent a lot of time together. She told me she loved me, and I think I even loved her. She asked me to come back with her to Wysteria and be married. She promised I would not be treated like the others. She promised it would be different. And you know? I think she even meant it. But when we got back, as soon as her mother came into the picture, everything changed. She backed down, gave in, and I became property again.”

Privet rolled up his sleeve, revealing a forearm peppered in deep purple scars. “Do you see this?” he asked, pointing to one of them. “This is a cigar burn. This is what happens in the Tamarack household when they find out that you've been telling the other men about what it was like out in the real world.”

Athel felt her stomach churn and turned away in shame.

Privet covered his arm again and his breathing became more steady. “I’m sorry, I should have told you all this before when you proposed to me. You deserved to know why I was too afraid to accept you back then.”

Athel’s expression was that of sympathy. “I knew.”

“You did?”

“Yes, Alder told me. Apparently you are something of a legend among the men.”

Privet nodded. “Then you know why I can’t let that happen to me again. I am in the exact same situation as before. I’m off the island, I’m free, and no one is looking for me. Do you know how cosmically unfair that is? In my nightmares, I keep thinking that right now there is some boy on Wysteria who should be free but he’s not because I took his place somehow. Please promise me that if I go back there with you, that you won’t change. If you did...if it happened again, I couldn’t...”

Athel could feel her heart overflowing with compassion for him. She reached up and touched the side of his face tenderly. “But how can I promise that nothing will change? That is impossible. Everything changes, even the things that...”

Athel caught herself, but try as he might she could not remove her hand. The stubbly skin of his face felt incredible. Her entire being was filled with energy. It was all she could do to keep her other hand off of him.

“But I can promise you one thing. If you go back with us, you will never become anyone’s property again.”

Privet placed a strong hand on her shoulder. His eyes were deep, focused on her, as if nothing else existed. She could see that he was completely vulnerable, but he was not afraid. “Even yours?” he asked, searching in her eyes.

He drew her close and she could not find the will to resist. She felt her body effortlessly mold into his.

She nodded. “Even mine.”

Athel‘s heart pounded in her chest. His presence was so strong, nearly overwhelming. Her eyes widened a little.

I want to kiss him.

She could see his broad chest rising and falling with his breath, the tension in his rippling muscles, like a predator ready to strike.

He wants to kiss me too.

His eyes flicked back and forth across her face, then up and down across her body. The attention thrilled her.

Could it be that I’m...

They were already pressed together, and yet somehow, the distance between them was still closing.

Do I...

Her lips were moving closer to him on their own.

Am I in...

Privet closed his eyes and tilted his head. Slowly he moved forward, closing the final inches that separated their lips.

Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my...

She felt as if she were falling. It was as if the air was rushing up around her, brushing past her cheeks, whipping her hair about. Rushing in her ears. But Privet still hadn’t kissed her.

She cracked an eye open. She saw evening sky. She saw clouds. She really was falling!

Great Mother!

Looking up, she saw the swirling mist of the gate she had fallen through growing smaller and smaller above her. Beyond it, the black silhouette of the Dreadnaught as it sailed through the evening sky.

She pulled out her pistol and fired. A heartbeat later, she willed the tiny seed to burst into long vigorous stranglevines. One reached up and wrapped itself around the ship’s rudder, while another one reached back and wrapped itself around her wrist. The vines went taut and her descent ended.

Startled, embarrassed, incredulous, and vengeful, she hung there for several heartbeats until the float stones in her belt kicked in and brought her back up towards the ship.

Blast Setsuna, that grub-licker, I’m going to get her for this...

Like hungry carrion, the enormous fleet of the Federal Navy began collecting again around the skies of Wysteria, and a feeling of dread began to build up in the forest.

White sails were folded up, cannons were run out, rifles were readied.

Standing on the deck of the ironclad Indomitable was unbearable. In the hot sun, the metal surfaces heated up like a frying pan. Yet despite the heat, the special liason from the Stone Council didn’t seem bothered by it in the least. Admiral Roapes wanted more than anything to wipe the sweat away from his eyes, but if his guest wasn’t affected by the heat, then neither was he.

“Mister Overtin, may I assume that you have brought with you the back pay my men are owed?”

“You may assume anything you like, Miguel,” Blair stated oddly as he breathed in deeply, savoring something.

“With all due respect, when I was told that you were being sent, I assumed you were arriving to resolve our resupply issues. My people have been on half-rations since we left Stretis.”

Blair breathed in deeply again. “No, I am here to make sure you do not fail us a second time. The threat of death has traditionally been a powerful motivator.”

Admiral Roapes snorted. “Do not worry, we are in no danger here. We beat them before and we'll do it again, the Wysterian trees are no real threat to an ironclad. Another two minutes and we would have killed their god forever.”

Admiral Roapes rubbed the scar on the side of his head and threw an accusatory glance back at Nicole. Nicole stepped back and avoided his glare. Her hand subconsciously landed on her Navy badge, which was two ranks lower than it had been before.

Blair laughed. “No, Admiral, I mean that if you fail, my orders are to kill you.”

Admiral Roapes wiped the sweat from his eyes and laughed nervously, as if it had been a joke. “If you are going to require so much from me, then I see it as no less than fair that I require the tools to complete my assignment. My people need food, ammunition, and the compensation they are contractually entitled to.”

Blair opened his eyes and sighed. “Admiral, when you look out there, what do you see?”

Admiral Roapes shielded his eyes from the sun to glimpse the island sitting at the horizon. “I see that blasted forest of theirs.”

“Then you aren’t looking at it right. When I look down there, I see Wysterian gold in your soldiers’ pockets. I see Wysterian food in the stomachs of your sailors. I see your ships’ holds bursting with their treasures.”

Blair motioned for Admiral Roapes to look again, which he did reluctantly. “Your payment and food is down there, Admiral; all that is required is for you to motive your people to go and get it.”

Admiral Roapes looked at the sharp-faced man indignantly. “We are the men and women of the Navy, we are not mercenaries.”

“If you are not mercenaries, Admiral, then why do you continually complain to me of money?”

Admiral Roapes’ staff raised white flags along the deck. In the distance, they could see a small ship coming from the island, waving white banners of its own.

“And what will the Wysterians eat?” Admiral Roapes countered.

“The dead do not eat, Admiral. It is one of the benefits of being dead.”

“But, my orders are to...”

Blair raised his hand to silence him and breathed in deeply one final time.

“May I ask what you are doing?”

“I am savoring it.”

“What?”

“The heat, the discomfort, the pain. It is quite intoxicating, wouldn’t you say?”

“Of course not, pain is displeasing,” Admiral Roapes said, his eyebrow raised. “That’s what the word means, by definition.”

“See, that is why you are so unhappy all the time,” Blair pronounced. “You only allow yourself to enjoy half the colors on the canvas. Why cast off half of life’s sensations? The gods created this feeling because they meant for it to exist. They wanted you to be able to experience it, so savor the gift while you can.”

The Wysterian delegation vessel was growing closer now. It seemed to be a re-purposed gondola of some kind. The center contained a covered structure, almost like a gazebo. Two men worked the sails and rudders, a single female guard stood at the front.

As they approached, Blair turned to The Admiral. “I should warn you, things are about to become quite colorful.”

“Colorful?” Admiral Roapes asked, tilting the brim of his hat up.

“I have orders too, you know. I am to bring a live Treesinger back to the Stone Council. It would seem that the Wysterians were kind enough to deliver one to me on a platter. It seems I shall be leaving sooner than expected.”

Nicole stepped forward from amongst the Admiral’s staff. “Pardon me, but surely you don’t mean to attack a diplomatic envoy under a white flag of...”

“Out!” Blair yelled harshly. Nicole was stunned, and looked to the Admiral for confirmation.

“Don’t look at him, I’m telling you to leave!” Blair hollered, even louder then before.

Admiral Roapes nodded and Nicole walked away in shock.

As the gondola came to a rest on the deck, the Admiral’s remaining staff helped secure it in place. The female guard stepped down and saluted, crossing her right arm across her chest. “I am Captain Tallia of the Royal Guard,” she said smartly. “I have been instructed to bring the chosen ambassador to negotiate with you.”

Blair said nothing, but appeared distressed as he stared at the bandaged stump that had once been Captain Tallia’s left arm.

“The Queen has not come herself?” Admiral Roapes asked.

“She was injured during your last unsuccessful invasion,” Captain Tallia explained, placing a lot of stress on the word ‘unsuccessful.’ “Her daughter Solanum reigns in her stead.”

Captain Tallia stepped to one side and the curtains were parted. Standing inside the gazebo was a cow. The cow was wearing a wreath of flowers around its neck, and had a royal tithe seal affixed to one horn.

“What is this?” Admiral Roapes demanded.

Captain Tallia’s eyebrow twitched angrily. “This is the ambassador chosen by the Queen’s daughter,” she responded steadily.