Storm of Sharks (14 page)

‘What’s the matter?’

Gretchen jumped, startled by the voice. It
was Trent. She looked back to the water.

‘I saw something.’

‘In the river?’

‘Of
course
in the
river,’ she said with irritation.

‘I was only asking,’ he replied
gruffly.

She turned and glared at him.

‘We might be in the wilds, on the run
from the Lion’s army, but don’t forget your place, Ferran.’

Trent arched an eyebrow at her before
glancing over the rushing water.

‘It was probably a fish, Lady
Gretchen. You’ll find most rivers are full of them,’ he replied
cheekily.

‘I know a fish when I see one,’
she snapped, tugging her first boot on.

‘It’ll be that other thing,
then: a duck.’ The tone of his voice was playful, but Gretchen was having none of
it.

‘Can’t you control the men in my
absence?’

‘I beg your pardon,
my
lady
?’

‘I want them ready to march at a
moment’s notice. We’re not so far from Redmire, Ferran – our
ultimate target, remember? I’m surprised half of General Vorhaas’s army
hasn’t descended by now, with the racket they’re making.’

‘Can you really blame them for being
in good spirits? They’ve much to be proud of, with victories over the Lionguard
from the Low Dale Road to the edge of Badgerwood. We’ve achieved a great deal in a
short space of time.’

Gretchen sighed. ‘We are but a fly
that irritates the fat rump of Lucas’s army. Do you think news of these
“victories” reaches the Lion’s ears, or those of Onyx? They
won’t have heard about our skirmishes. They probably take us as seriously as
Muller’s idiots in the Badlands, and we’re a tiny fraction of the
sheriff’s number.’

‘Why the sudden pessimism?’
asked Trent. ‘Do you forget
what the Harriers consist of?
We’ve cobblers, bakers, coopers and builders. These aren’t warriors or
mercenaries. They’re honest, ordinary men who fight for freedom. Sure, they may
have forgotten themselves for a moment, but don’t deny them a little
pleasure.’

Trent walked off. ‘I’ll go and
speak to them, but don’t expect me to berate them.’

‘Save your legs and your breath,
Ferran,’ said Gretchen, tugging her last boot on and standing. ‘I’ll
speak to them myself.’

The Lady of Hedgemoor started to walk past
Trent, but he grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her back to him.

‘Unhand me!’ she exclaimed.

‘Not until you give me some straight
answers.’

‘You forget who you speak to,
Redcloak.’

‘I don’t forget a single thing,
Gretchen. If you think you can sneer at me like something you’ve scraped off your
boot after everything we’ve been through together, think again. Call me Redcloak
all you like if it makes you feel superior, I don’t give a Ratlord’s behind,
but I deserve an explanation. Why are your claws out?’

It was a figure of speech, but it was true.
Gretchen stared at her hands, clawed as the fox flashed through her, ready to lash out.
She tried to pull free but Trent’s grip remained firm.

‘You’ve been irritable with me
for the last month, ever since we hooked up with the Dales men,’ he continued.
‘Are you afraid to be seen speaking to me in front of your subjects?’

Gretchen laughed. ‘Brenn help us, you
think an awful lot
of yourself, Ferran, don’t you? It must be
wonderful when the world revolves around you!’

‘This from
you
, of
all
people
?’

‘It’s not who you are or where
you come from, it’s how you act with me,’ she snapped. ‘You’re
always fussing around me, like I’m a child. I’m quite capable of looking
after myself!’

‘This is about the other day,
isn’t it? When we attacked Krupha and his men? You’re picking a fight with
me because I wanted to make sure your wound was seen to, is that it?’

‘I wasn’t the only one
injured – there were others in our number who were wounded!’

‘You’d taken a blow to the
stomach!’

‘It was a glancing blow, and you
forget – I’m a therianthrope. I
heal
when others
don’t.’

‘So I’m guilty of caring for
you, then? Is that any reason to continually pick fights?’

‘You need to treat me as you would any
man in the Harriers,’ Gretchen replied.

‘But you’re
not
a man,
let alone just anybody. You’re a Werelady, a figure of hope, a cause for the
Dalelands to rally behind!’

Gretchen yanked her arm free and started
walking, leaving Trent to gasp with exasperation before following.

‘I thought you were different from
your brother,’ Gretchen spat out over her shoulder, ‘but you’re just
as pig-headed and stubborn as he ever was. Is it just the Ferran boys who are soaked in
chivalry or every man along the Cold Coast?’

‘How are we supposed to act?
You’re a noblewoman. A
lady who was betrothed to Lucas not so
long ago. You can’t be the pampered princess and the freedom fighter at the same
time.’

She spun round and levelled on him.

‘Take a look around you, Ferran. Do
you see me living any differently from the rest of you? I sleep under the same stars, in
the same muddy ditches, soaked by the same stinking rain.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ said
Trent angrily. ‘You may think you’re one of us, but believe me, the men in
that camp treat you differently. You get the first of the rations, you get the pick of
the spots to sleep and some of them treat you with more respect than they would their
own grandmothers. Face it, Gretchen: you’re more important than any of
us.’

‘I can’t do anything about how
they treat me! What do you want from me?’

‘I don’t expect you to do
anything about it. You’re a therian. You have your place, we have ours, whether
you’ll admit it or not. We can never be like you. You were born to rule; we were
born to serve. There’s no shame in it, for Brenn’s sake – you can
change into a beast, you’re impervious to most things that could kill a man. You
have to be better than us, or what chance do we have of surviving this war?’

Gretchen stood motionless. She knew she was
unlike any of them. She’d been raised to consider herself better than humanity:
that was the way of the Werelords. But now it sickened her that all her comrades had
been treating her differently.

Trent set off to walk past her. ‘Perhaps
that’s why you’re so happy to treat me as a fool.’

Her hand flew out, instinct triggering the
attack. But before she could strike his face, Trent had caught her by the wrist. Her
other hand came across to hit him but he snatched that, too, out of the air. The two
stood face to face and hand in hand, the Werefox snarling at the boy from Westland.

‘I thought we’d grown close in
the Dyrewood,’ Trent said, his cool blue eyes focused on hers. ‘When it was
just you and me, it felt like there were no barriers. We were just two friends,
depending upon one another. Yet now you seem to be ashamed of me.’

Gretchen growled. ‘Let go of me,
Trent.’

‘Why the shame?’ he continued,
ignoring her protestations. ‘Is it because you can’t bear to admit there
might actually
be something between us?’

She lashed out with her leg, her foot
cracking Trent across the shin and sending him falling to the grass-covered riverbank.
As she tumbled to the ground he pinned her down. She snarled, her fox teeth sharpening
ever so slightly. Trent stared back, jaw set and firm in the face of the therian girl,
hands still clasping hers tightly.

‘You abhor the fact that a human could
mean so much to you, don’t you?’

‘Pah!’ she spat out, trying to
tear free again. ‘You’ve an inflated opinion of yourself, Ferran,’ she
gasped, writhing beneath him, trying to work her knees free to launch a crippling
kick.

‘No,’ he said, smiling without
feeling. ‘It’s not me at all, is it? It’s him.’

Gretchen didn’t need to ask who
‘him’ was. She wanted to tell him that it had nothing to do with his
brother, that Drew had no effect on their relationship, but she’d be lying. She
was torn by her feelings for each of the Ferran boys: the memory of Drew and how
he’d made her feel, and how she’d come to look upon Trent as more than just
a friend through the terrible dangers they’d faced together.

She opened her mouth to speak, to deny that
her aggression had anything to do with the heir to the throne of Westland, the Werelord
at the heart of the war of the Seven Realms. Her green eyes frantically searched
Trent’s as he stared down at her. The words caught in her throat, her feelings
betraying her.
Say something,
she thought.
Prove him wrong, even if
he’s right!

At the moment she was about to speak, Trent
kissed her. She struggled half-heartedly, her sharp teeth catching his lips, but
Gretchen’s resistance was crumbling beneath the intensity of the kiss. She should
have bitten him, torn a strip off him for his impertinence, but the anger she’d
felt for him moments ago was gone, and with it the beast receded.

Trent broke the embrace and pulled away. A
drop of blood bloomed on his lower lip where her teeth had snagged him. Again, Gretchen
wanted to speak, but this time to tell Trent what she truly thought of him, how he made
her feel: safe, secure, special. But the young man spoke first.

‘I won’t be second best to
him,’ he whispered, releasing her and jumping to his feet.

Trent stalked away towards the Badgerwood.
Gretchen watched him go, none of her usual quick-fire ripostes coming to mind. She
turned back to the Redwine, the apparition she’d seen earlier in the river
forgotten. Calm though it appeared, the Werelady knew better. Currents raged beneath the
surface, as turbulent as the thoughts that clouded her mind.

Drew’s eyes watered, the faint
outlines of his fingers fluttering as he waggled them back and forth. The strain induced
a blinding headache but he pushed it to one side, willing his vision to focus. The field
of white was now grey, broken by the shifting shadows as he brought his ghostly digits
closer to his face.
This is progress,
he thought, fighting the urge to holler
with delight.

‘Be careful,’ said Casper.
‘If the wind changes, your face might stick.’

Drew jumped at the voice. He’d been
concentrating so hard that he hadn’t even been aware that Casper had entered the
hut. The siblings had left him alone all day, while they were hard at work outdoors for
the Krakenguard. They’d hidden him beneath blankets when the foreman had collected
them, and he’d stayed in the hut since then.

‘You really do sneak around a lot. How
long have you been there?’ asked Drew.

‘Long enough to see your eyes nearly
burst from their sockets.’

‘I might be blind but I can hear that
grin from here. Why aren’t you out there working with the rest of them?’

‘Like you, I ain’t supposed to
be around here,’ said Casper. Drew heard the boy sit down. ‘Being cabin boy
aboard the
Maelstrom
hardly won me any friends, especially among your enemies.
I, too, need to stay hidden. I’ve been hiding out in the harbour, beneath the
jetties. Ain’t nobody lookin’ for wanted men – or
kids – there. Gregor, Pearl, Kit and the rest of the children have been
press-ganged into labour by Hackett’s men. They count ’em in and count
’em out – if any are missing, they come looking and dish out some hurt.
If I turned up at roll-call I’d be as good as stickin’ my neck through the
noose.’

It was good to hear the boy’s voice
again. Drew had only spent a brief time in Casper’s company, back when his ordeals
had begun. Count Vega the Sharklord had captured Drew and stowed him aboard Vega’s
ship the
Maelstrom
, delivering his prisoner to King Leopold. But when Drew and
his allies – including Vega – defeated the Lion, Drew had given the
pirate Vega a place on the Wolf’s Council. After shaking off his distrust of the
Sharklord, Drew had come to depend upon the pirate prince in matters both political and
personal.

Throughout it all, Casper had been close to
his captain’s side, the nearest thing Vega had to a page boy.

Since Casper – or
‘Skipper’, as the children of Cutter’s Cove
called
him – had appeared the previous night, Drew hadn’t had a chance to speak
properly with him. It was clear that the boy had assumed a position of power among the
enslaved youngsters. He knew that Bosa’s fleet had been scattered across the ocean
by the Kraken. But Vega’s whereabouts still eluded him.

‘How are your eyes, then?’ asked
the boy.

‘On the mend. It’s gradual, but
I can make out shapes again. Who knows, I might be the new lookout aboard the
Maelstrom
by this time tomorrow!’

‘Over my dead body,’ the boy
said with a snort. ‘That’s my job. You stick with ruling Westland, my
lord.’

Drew dropped his joking tone. ‘We
never got to speak properly the other night, Casper. You only half said hello, before
you were off again.’