Page 4 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
Rummaging about a dark and dusty supply room was not what Ember had planned on doing today. The small flecks of dirt trickled up through her nose, into her lungs, causing her to hack with each inhale. Waiting outside the door, Ajax incessantly tapped his foot. It was making her unnerved, a light pounding in her head beating with everytap, tap, tap. Ember wanted to go out there and yell at him—he did not need to be her shadow. She wasn’t helpless. Even though she’d barely spent time on a ship in her life, she still knew where to look for a replacement for the mainsail’s halyard that had snapped in the forceful winds of last night.
Actually, that was a lie, but Kristos told her there was an old crate full of lines down here. All Ember could see in the faint light of her lantern was extra stock of food, water, and weapons—so many weapons, their silver and bronze accents shimmering as she swept around the room. The line had to be somewhere though, possibly shoved under one of the wooden chests or worn-out pieces of furniture.
Tap, tap, tap.She really should go out there and tell him to stop. Stop knocking his foot on the floor, stop following her around on the ship, stop everything. She was grateful to be aboardThe Nostos, to have been saved from imminent death, but the secrets Ajax kept from her—it was taking a lot to not explode on the commander. A Nexian spy! A Nexian spy that had infiltrated the Spartanis at that. He’d been so young when he first arrived in Alentus to join the elite group of soldiers, and yet he was already working for a foreign king and somehow had kept it hidden for years.
Banging from a knocked-over crate sounded behind Ember. Even though she was aboard the ship and it was unlikely she’d be attacked by her own crewmates, Ember’s hand instinctively went for the sword she kept strapped to her back, unsheathing the broad silver blade. Placing the lantern down on the supply room’s floor, she called into the shadows.
“Who’s there?” No answer returned.
Casting a glance around the room, Ember began to move about the piled crates and barrels of liquor. Creaking came once more from her right, where a cloaked form attempted to slip into the corridor. “Not so fast!” Ember called, slashing her blade down in front of the stowaway as they came to a screeching halt by the door.
Brown hair revealed itself as Ember pulled the hood of the cloak down. “What are you doing here?” she seethed, taking in the tall Morentian princess before her. “Ajax! I need you to handle this immediately! There is about to be an unconscious traitor on the floor.” Fire lit in her eyes and Ember dropped her sword before clenching her fist and pulling it back into a jab.
Ajax rushed through the door just in time to grip Ember’s arm before white knuckles met Farah’s jaw. “Whoa there, Drakos, we don’t want to injure our allies, do we?”
Flicking her gaze between the commander and the princess, Ember’s eyes grew wide. This could not be happening. Farah was the enemy. Her father and brother had tried to kill them. A growl left her throat. “She is not our ally.” It was enough that Ember was thrust into a world where she trusted the crew of this ship, of Nexos even, but Farah—she would never place her trust in anyone from that two-timing family again.
“Oh, please, Ember. You really thought I was courting a pretty boy like him? My tastes are,” the Morentian princess—traitor—paused, “different.” Flecks of gold sparkled in Farah’s eyes as she spoke. And Ember could only dig her nails into her palms so hard they almost bled. What was worse—the fact that their relationship was a ruse, or that Ajax had lied about one more thing? “Your commander and I needed to keep up appearances, needed a reason why we would meet each day. My father can be quite curious, as you well know, but he never questions my relationships with men.”
A snort left Ember’s nose. “That’s a rather kind way of describing your vile father,” she scoffed, spitting on the ground next to Farah’s feet.
“Ember!” Ajax’s eyes widened and he dragged his palm down his face. “You have to understand, this was very sensitive material we were discussing. If it had gotten out that Farah was leaking correspondence between her mother, Khalid, and Edmund, we might have never gotten you or your sister out. We might all be dead.”
Copper and the taste of too sour lemons coated Ember’s tongue. “You didn’t think you could trust me with that? You thought I would let something so serious—so damning—just slip?” Beat after beat her heart pounded faster, threatening to explode.
“I did hear you were quite the gossip,” Farah said with a wink and an upward twitch of her lip.
Cracking wood echoed in the supply room as Ember pinned Farah with one arm across the throat, backing her into the wall. “You are not allowed to speak, traitor.”
Puffs of air from Farah’s quickened breath hit Ember’s cheeks. “Gods, it was a joke. What—you became Prytan and lost any sense of humor?”
Gut-wrenching guilt seeped under Ember's skin, the hairs on her neck standing on edge, her skin turning the color of the spilt flour behind them. Prytan of the Spartanis. A title that for so long she had not wanted, had never thought she deserved or could handle, was now one that reminded her of betrayal and death.
Iason.
Blood-splattered leathers. Poison-laced bronze swords slicing through flesh. Time had slowed, and every bone in her body would not let her move from his crumbling corpse. Only the deafening scream that left her throat rang in her ears.
“Ember,” Ajax's gentle voice whispered in her ear. Farah's eyes had softened in front of her, and Ember realized she had stumbled several steps back into the commander's chest. Sweat trickled down her forehead and her hands shook as Ajax wrapped his arms around her. “It's alright. I've got you.”
“He's dead. He's dead because of me. No…he’s dead because of you! Because of your family!” Heavy tears poured from her eyes. She had not let herself think about Iason over the past few days. Had shut him out, his whisper at her to run, to get out, to save herself. His steady face as he leapt in front of her and took the death blow meant for her. “No one was there to bury him, to place coins in his grave for the ferryman. He will never cross the rivers into Aidesian. He will never rest.”
“But your father…” Farah stopped her words at the sight of Ajax's shaking head.
“My father can only shepherd in the dead that pass over the Stygian River, he cannot alter the course of the dead who have not bought their passage.”
Aidon would have—if there was anything he could do—but the laws between god and mortal were clear. They were not to interfere in the happenings of those who lived in Odessia, loved one or otherwise. Ember knew it was not always true. That trickle of power seeped through the earth to aid the less fortunate. That storms rage and splinter ships along the shoreline in times of torment. But the underworld of Aidesian always stuck to stricter laws. It had to, or the balance between the living and the dead would shift, causing inconceivable repercussions to thread through the world. Even the ruler of the underworld himself did not know the extent of the fury that the Fates may rain down upon them.
“I didn't…I didn't know, Ember. I'm so sorry. Ajax told me he was very important to you.” Farah went to reach out her hand, but Ember swatted it away.
“Sorry? You're sorry?” A vicious laugh left her throat. “Your father is the one who did this. Your brother almost killed me and usurped my sister’s throne. Ajax may trust you, but we thought we could trust Kohl too, and look where that got all of us. Don't ever speak of Iason to me again, or you'll have more than my arm at your throat.” Ember wormed out of Ajax's grip. Too many emotions. Too many emotions were hitting her all at once. Images and sounds and screams whirled in her mind and she couldn't take it.
“My brother is a prideful fool. And my father—he took things from me too—took people from me.” Farah's amber eyes flared with fire. “I vowed I would make him pay for every bit of it. You may not trust me now, but you will.” Flecks of dust and flour fell from Farah's shirt as she ran her hand over the linen material. A slight tremor radiated off her hand, her face a cold sheet of stone.
“I doubt that,” Ember growled through clenched teeth, her fists curling once more. She wondered, though, if what the princess said was true. If the Viper had really taken something or someone meaningful from her. Farah grabbed something from behind her, and for a moment Ember thought she might be reaching for a sword.
Instead, Farah placed a bundle of line in Ember’s hand. “I heard you and Ajax muttering outside. The crew probably needs this as soon as possible.”
“Right—” Ember had forgotten all about why she was down here in the first place. “I'll just take this up to the deck.”
