No surname, but that was not unusual with the poor and the criminal. Dario was betting on criminal. Nobody but certain tradesmen and thieves had hands that dexterous. Fidel. Cortez. Try as he might, Dario could not place the names. He and Granito had kept tabs on certain criminal elements, but it was impossible to know all the names. "At least if they are kidnapping me to bait Culebra they are not sending yet another assassin to kill him."
Fidel's face showed nothing, but his hands paused in their restlessness for the span of a breath. So Cortez was an assassin. But that made no sense, not if they were going to all the trouble of kidnapping him.
Dario did not bother to inquire further; Fidel would not give him answers. "So I guess the question now is: do we escape or remain?"
"I think we would do best to remain for now, yes? If we are collateral then eventually Cortez and his highness must be brought here."
"That was my thinking," Dario said. "Do you know where we are?"
Fidel shrugged. "I cannot say for certain, but I have a pretty good theory. They were complaining about a collapsed bridge a couple days ago, annoyed that it would take them an extra day to find another place to cross. We were blindfolded, so I could not see, but the only collapsed bridge that would cause that sort of delay is on the way to the village of Belmonte, right between the Flores River and the Azul Mountains. So if we are near the Flores Bridge and must go out of our way by a day, we are probably in Flora Village. I do not like that we are going to be Belmonte, I can tell you that. It is not a good city."
"No, it's not," Dario agreed, truly troubled for the first time. Belmonte was also called the City of Thieves, though it offered far more than thieves. If it was illegal, it could be found in Belmonte. Anything could be found in Belmonte for the right price.
What price had someone paid to kidnap him and Fidel? Who was paying that price? What, ultimately, was that someone paying for? Questions and questions, and when he learned the answers he would not like them.
Because as troubling as it was that they were going to Belmonte, Dario was more frightened by the fact that they were going to be so close to the Azul Mountains. Only the cultists went anywhere near those mountains, and mostly only the Order of the White Rose. They had not done it in a century or so, not since the last time they had succeeded in kidnapping the Basilisk Prince. The Order had dragged that unfortunate Prince up the mountain in search of the Lost Temple, and no one ever saw or heard from them again.
The Lost Temple ... it was the only reason to take Culebra up the mountain, as given they were in Belmonte Dario could not imagine where else they would be going.
Just over nine hundred years ago, after Piedre had been destroyed by a terrible shaking from the depths of the earth, priests had found the Basilisk dead in his most sacred temple, once called the Temple of Solace. But the exact location of it had been lost and over time its proper name had fallen into disuse. The only remaining clues in ancient texts and dubious folklore said that the Lost Temple was somewhere in the Azul Mountains.
Dario did not like the combination of elements: an assassin being forced to do something that involved Culebra. That Culebra was likely going to be kidnapped and forced to do something with Dario as leverage. That it would all happen in or close to Belmonte, in the shadow of the Azul Mountains ...
So the next question, on a list long enough to give him a headache, was simply: who was doing what to Culebra this time? The Brotherhood of the Black Rose or the Order of the White Rose?
Most believed it was the Brotherhood who was more problematic, as they believed the world was better off with the Basilisk dead once and for all. But Dario and Granito had always been more troubled by the Order, who constantly searched for ways to someday restore the Basilisk to godhood. Those who sought to restore, who sought power, were far more dangerous than those who simply sought death.
Dario felt sick. He should have been at the palace protecting Culebra. Damn it, even if Culebra no longer loved him, couldn't love him without Granito there ... had they not promised always to put his protection first? He should have ignored the dismissal, gotten control of himself and done his duty first.
Instead, he was going to be used against Culebra. He hoped Culebra was smart enough to let him die. He hoped more that someone else would be smart enough and strong enough to keep Culebra safe.
"Captain—I mean, my lord. The captain said to inform you that we should make landfall in a matter of hours."
Midori looked up from the book he was reading and forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Mr. Tsuki."
The sailor gave an awkward bow and then turned and left. Once, they might have stayed and spoken with him just for the sake of conversation. But since he had joined the ranks of civilians, no one really knew how to treat him. It had been just over a year since he had been formally discharged from the navy and still no one knew what to do with or about him.
Including him. Midori set his book aside with a long sigh, shifting restlessly in his seat, despising the long folds of robes that impeded his every movement. Whatever his title, he was no noble—he was a sailor. Former captain of the storming royal navy. He should
still
be captain of the royal navy. Instead, he had turned home to a country in turmoil and found himself two steps from being clapped in chains and dropped into the sea for his failure to retrieve Prince Nankyokukai as ordered.
Despite the repercussions, Midori was not sorry for his decisions. He was only sorry that Nankyokukai was dead, had been meant to die the entire time, and that the only good to come out of the matter had been the royal family's dark secret.
Though he understood completely why Queen Umiko had made him take the brunt of the punishment, Midori thought it a bit harsh to have turned him from sailor to diplomat. No longer a sailor, no idea how to be a diplomat. He felt adrift and on the verge of drowning. Sighing again, Midori picked up his glass of fine Verde brandy and drained it. The burn that resulted was pleasant, but not nearly enough.
He picked up his book again, but gave up after he'd managed to read the same page five times. His visit to Piedre would be his first voyage in his new, official capacity. Despite his noble upbringing, the fact he was the family head, Midori knew no one at court. He knew the harbor, the merchants, the sailors, and the sea. But court? That was unknown and frequently hostile territory. The only person he even sort of knew was Prince Culebra, and 'knew' was being generous to the point of ludicrous.
Past the occasional pleasantries and meaningless conversations exchanged over royal dinners on the rare occasions Midori's visits home coincided with Culebra's visits, all he knew of Culebra was the grief-stricken man he had escorted first to Pozhar and then to Piedre. They'd parted ways almost immediately after landing, and Culebra had been drowned in grief and terror the entire voyage.
The urge to get up and walk about the deck was strong, but Midori ignored it. His first voyage since being discharged was proving to be even more difficult than anticipated—for him and for the sailors who were not used to his being aboard ship as a civilian. Better for all of them, especially the ship's captain, if he was not underfoot to distract and confuse.
He was also more than happy to avoid his storming companions. Dragons eat them all, he hated politicians. He would rather swim with real sharks. Midori stifled another sigh, tired of hearing himself doing so.
He stood up and fetched the brandy in his trunk to refill his glass. He took a sip and made himself resume his book. In a futile effort to make of himself a decent diplomat, he had been reading all manner of books on the matter, as well as volumes on Piedre itself. He knew the country well enough to do his former job, but not his current.
If he completely mucked up his new position, he did not know what he would do with himself. Likely go for a final swim in the sea and let the dragons have him.
He heard the call right as someone knocked on his door. Calling for the sailor to enter, he stood up and began to pack away the few belongings lying about his cabin. "We're coming into port now, my lord. If you wanted to come topside."
"Of course," Midori said, and the sailor departed. He smoothed out his ornate robes decorated with swirls of deep and light green and accompanied by a black sash embroidered with green and gold fish.
His companions had been vastly amused by him, dressed like a lord when he had always worn his military garb, but one cool look had sent them scurrying off to gossip where he did not have to hear it. He knew he looked ridiculous, but there was nothing for it.
Leaving his cabin, he joined the crew and his companions on the top deck and watched as they pulled into Piedre. It was so drastically different from Kundou—from all the others, really. Pozhar was beautiful, solid. It was well-built to contain its fiery god. Verde had a clean-cut, arranged feel to it, as if the entire country was a carefully-maintained garden. Kundou, of course, was the kingdom of the sea and always seemed a moment from succumbing to its embrace.
Piedre was more like a solemn temple, where no one dared to speak above a whisper. It was also a violent place, as Midori knew first hand. He could not see much clearly, yet, but he could see at least a dozen soldiers assembled around a lavish black and silver open carriage.
The four men who had accompanied him tried a few times to attempt conversation, but Midori brushed them aside. Just as he was beginning to lose all patience, the captain gave them permission to disembark. Midori thanked him and strode off, walking as slowly as he could manage down the gangway.
He faltered to a stop when he set eyes on a man who was shockingly white in a country of dusky skin and dark features. When he had traveled before with Prince Culebra, his mind had been entirely on Culebra's grief and doing whatever he could to help him through it.
Between that and the chaos wrought by Prince Nankyokukai, he had somehow missed completely that Prince Culebra was breathtaking. The man who stood before him was of average height, but seemed taller. His eyes were wrapped in black bandages. The dark material cut a livid line across his pale face, while loose, feathery strands of short, white hair fell across it.
He had a pretty mouth, the kind that inspired very crude thoughts. He was dressed completely in black with buttons and lace of gleaming silver. The buckles of his shoes were silver as well and his black stockings were decorated with silver swirls.
Midori walked toward him, taking care to ensure his steps were loud enough to be heard. An arm's length away he stopped and swept a bow. "Greetings, your highness. It is an honor to be once again in your fine company."
"My lord," Culebra greeted and extended his hands, palm up. Midori placed his own in them, smiling at the way Culebra ran his thumbs over them, gripped them. He wondered, as he had two years ago, what Culebra felt, if it was so different from what he felt. "The honor is mine. I will never forget your kindness to me. I am very happy to welcome you to Piedre and hope fervently that you will enjoy your time with us."
Squeezing his hands, Midori gave in to an impulse and bent to brush a soft, casual kiss along Culebra's cheek. To the dragons with protocol when so much of it required being able to see. "I cannot imagine finding anything but enjoyment, highness."
"Good," Culebra said and smiled at him. Midori reluctantly released his hands and stepped back before he let sudden, unexpected lust get the better of him. He stepped out of the way while everyone else went through the protocols and tiresome pleasantries, ignoring the warning looks his companions cast him.
An hour later, they were finally on their way to the palace. Midori sat beside Culebra in the open carriage with guards on either side of them and the rest of the entourage in the seats across. More guards surrounded them on horseback.
"So how have you been, my lord?" Culebra asked, and Midori saw his hand move, saw Culebra almost immediately stop it and start to withdraw.
He remembered how desperately Culebra had needed touch back when they had sailed together. Reaching out, Midori took Culebra's hand and curled their fingers together. "Busy, mostly. It is strange no longer being a sailor. I hope you will forgive me any unintended slights; I make a poor civilian."
Culebra laughed. "Well, as I made a very poor travel companion once, my lord, I think I can forgive in my turn. Please do not worry upon it. Have you ever explored much of Piedre, or were you always bound closely to your ship?"
"Tied to my ship, highness. I am looking forward to learning more of Piedre during my visit."
"I'll see to it that you have the best guides," Culebra said. "Though I believe your friends have all been here many a time, yes? Your usual rooms have been prepared, warm and ready for you. I hope—" He broke off when Midori's companions all gave a startled cry.
Midori shot them a quelling look even as he saw the source of their panic: a brilliant blue and yellow snake coiled at Culebra's feet.
"Whatever is the matter?" Culebra asked, suddenly sounding tense, hand tightening in Midori's.
"Nothing, highness. There is a saphir snake at your feet."
Culebra immediately relaxed. "Oh, her. She won't hurt anyone." He bent down and extended his arm, and Midori watched avidly as the snake uncoiled and then slithered up Culebra's arm to wrap twice around his neck. "Incredible," he breathed. "Those snakes are the deadliest in Kundou. How in the world did one come to be here?"
"No doubt she came on a ship at some point, but she has been one of mine for a very long time. I usually bring one or two with me when I leave the palace as Ruisenor is a bit too much to take with me. She won't hurt you, my lord, if you'd care to pet her?"
Across the carriage, the rest of the Kundou party recoiled to the point they looked as though they wanted to leap right out of the carriage. Midori was not thrilled with the idea of petting a venomous snake himself, but for some reason he was more troubled by the idea of disappointing Culebra.