Page 10 of Sea's Secret

“If ye were smarter than a barnacle, ye wouldn’t ‘ave killed me brother, would ye ‘ave–aye?” he said with a laugh.

I couldn’t even count the number of times he had brought up my father in that way. At first, it was jarring. I was weak back then, but I had become stronger, and at that moment, I felt very strong. But he never needed to know that. I pulled out the small bottle of drink I always kept in my pocket and took a swing. It wasn't a strong drink, though, and it wouldn’t chase away the pain at all, but it was important that he, and everyone else, thought it was. Being a drunken pirate was the part, the persona, I kept up when I was around my uncle and his crew.

As I let the water slide down my throat, I noticed his smile–a cruel and satisfied smile–upon his lips, showing a rather impressive top row of golden teeth, teeth that Sands wanted to steal, having mentioned it to me dozens of times. Veeto acted like he hated my “drinking,” but the truth was, he was satisfied, because he thought I drank because of all the terrible things he said to me. It wasn’t; I didn’t drink. That smile of his was how I knew I had convinced him of my lies.

Yes, Veeto was my uncle, and my late father’s older brother. He had come to the kingdom of Walden, when I was just a lad of eight years. He took me aboard his ship and told me that he would teach me how to sail like my father. Being so young and without a father, when I met my father’s brother, I was excited to spend time with him and learn about the sailing life, which my father had loved. Father’s death had been difficult for my whole family, but I knew it was even more so for my mother. Before boarding Veeto’s ship, I had no idea that leaving my home and going with him would mean I would never return to Walden, nor would I return to my mother and my younger brother, Peter.

“Aye, Cap, you are right,” I finally said although I hated admitting I had killed my father.

What I had done to my father was something to hate, especially because I was his son. I should not have blamed my mother for sending word to my Uncle Veeto, asking him to come and take me away. She told him that the sight of me, because of what I had done, was too painful for her to endure any longer.

When I was a child, I believed that everything was fine between my mother and me. Of course, I hated what had happened between my father and myself, yet I always remembered my mother’s soft words to me one day as I was crying over it.

“It is not your fault. I love you. He loved you.”

She was a better liar than I was, I had come to realize. All those comforting words? The love she had shared with me? It had all been a lie. Over time, those memories which I had clung to early on, the ones that caused me to believe that my uncle had lied to me about my mother’s hatred for me, eventually faded. It was obvious that she really hated me.

Could I blame her?

No, but I did blame her for the life I was then living, a life she had sent me off to live with my vile uncle.

“What did ye pilfer?” Veeto asked, scratching his filthy beard as I capped the bottle and put it back in my coat pocket.

I leaned a bit to the left, then to the right, pretending to lose my balance for a moment. “Aye, where is it—” I said, feigning confusion. “It was right here–” I continued as my thoughts raced, filled with those memories that I tried not to dwell upon.

I was sure that if my mother truly loved me, she would have never sent me away with Veeto. No mother or father who loved their child would send them off to live with a villain like him.

Stop. Do not think about her, I tried to force myself.

It had always been like that. Whenever I sent my mother a letter, it always caused me to think too much about her and about my old princely life, missing my younger sister, Layla, as well as my younger brother, Peter. He would be around seventeen. Does he wonder why I never come back to Walden to visit? I hope he is happy, I thought.

Stop it, I argued with myself. That is not my life anymore, even if I pretend every once in a while that it could be. I am not a prince.

Veeto grunted with irritation at my act. “It’s by ye feet, ye land-lubber!” he scowled, picking up the bag and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Aye! There it is; you had it,” I said with another sloppy movement. “Did you send the letter?” I asked Veeto as he turned to leave.

You are so weak.

“Aye,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at me.

That was the only true weakness I had ever let him know about me. I hated myself for it every single year when I sent my mother another letter. I knew that after eleven long years, she would never write back to me. But something inside me wanted her to know that even though she had ignored me, she still had another son, a son who was out there in the world, doing her bidding. Even if she didn’t send anything back to me, I hoped my letters brought her at least a little pain—a reminder of what she’d done to me, her eldest son.

She sent letters to Veeto, directing me to royal events that she wanted me to attend. I would never have attended any of them if it wasn't for the fact that royals were always wealthy. Veeto had been the one who explained that benefit to me, many years earlier.

I’d been taught by my parents when I was young that lying, stealing, and cheating were wrong.

But what if that was the only way to survive? I was a part of a pirate crew that pillaged and plundered every chance they got. I was among the worst sorts of men imaginable, and I was one of them, and I was very good at being a pirate.

“Not a large bounty,” Veeto snarled, as he dug around within the bag.

“I was watched while in Thorn. Princess Briar is rather observant. Also, we have an addition to the crew.” I was a bit worried about what he would think of that; however, I, of course, feigned confidence.

Veeto turned to look at me.

“Who?”

“Have you ever heard of The Grimm?” I asked with a slight shift of posture, crossing my arms over my chest.

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