It is year 1791 since the fall of the Basilica del Mare. The Free Isles of the Immersea are faced with threats old and new, chief among them aggression from the empire in the west, Varuulan. Sailing under the banner the mysterious and storied Lachlan Hope, a young captain and her crew finds themselves unlikely allies in a pair of infamous pirates and their ships–with all of them standing at the center of a fight that will save or doom them all.
Set in a world where water covers most of the globe, Maraeternumtells the tale of Alexia Hope, Laucorn Taurles, Bree O’Kerry, Rooks Taurles, Kyrie Stafford, Trakal Taurles, Daci Cook, Liam D’Arcy, and Lachlan Hope–figures that stand against the might of an empire that could destroy the world. They will unravel the lost mysteries of Maraeternum’s past in order to ensure that the world has a future. What follows is the original draft of the third chapter, in which we see Chance have a conversation with her uncle and Laucorn begins to unravel a mystery when it comes to Bree.
Three
It was dead silent in Liam D’Arcy’s study as Alexia stepped inside, adjusting the lapels and cuffs of her coat. While the quiet wasn’t uncommon, it was mildly unnerving, especially when her uncle had been the one to ask for this meeting.
Where is he? She chewed at her lower lip, her brows knitting slightly. The carriage had arrived at the docks just as they’d finished with the cargo—just as she’d predicted. Bree hadn’t been on deck when she’d headed back out into the city, but she knew her friend and first mate would know where she’d gone in any case. The real question was why Liam was late to the meeting that he had scheduled.
Alexia took out the pocket watch that had once been her mother’s, checking the time with a slight frown.
I’ll give him ten more minutes, then I’ll just have to leave him a note and let him know that he’ll need to catch me on the Wild Card before we leave in the morning.
She tried not to worry. After all, her uncle knew how to take care of himself—better than her father did, if she believed what Liam said. Alexia wasn’t so sure herself sometimes, and this was certainly one of those times when her certainty wavered like a drunken sailor on a rail.
She glanced out the window toward her uncle’s garden, watched the wind outside rustle trees and flowers. Summer was nearly over. It would be Carnivale soon. She still wasn’t sure if the Wild Card would make the trip down this year or not. They’d gone the year before, and she’d been multiple times growing up, but the memory of the pain in Bree’s eyes, pain her first mate tried to hide, still weighed heavily on Alexia. If she could avoid hurting Bree, she would. Whatever memory had summoned that kind of hurt, she didn’t know, nor had she asked. It was Bree’s tale to tell or keep to herself. Alexia wasn’t about to push her.
The sound of a boot scraping against the dark wood floor made her turn. Liam gave her a faint, slightly sheepish smile as he stepped into his study.
“I’m sorry I was late,” he said, striding toward her. He was dressed in black and dark blue—black leather pants and knee-high boots, a navy blue shirt and a jacquard vest in navy and black. He looked tired, but otherwise no worse for wear than any other time she’d ever seen him.
Still, she could tell that there was something amiss.
“It’s all right,” Alexia said. “I wasn’t waiting long.” Her uncle frowned at the lie, but didn’t comment on it. She moved toward him to hug him, to kiss him on both cheeks. “What’s the matter? Your note made it seem like this was urgent.”
“Mm.” He grimaced. She could smell gunpowder on his clothes.
What in blazes is going on? “Is something wrong?”
“That remains to be seen,” Liam said, then sighed, turning away. He walked toward the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of whiskey she recognized as a gift from her father. Her uncle poured two glasses before putting the bottle away again. “What was your next port?”
“Bree and I talked about Port Royale,” she said, watching him as he closed up the cabinet, juggling both glasses of whiskey as he did. “Why?”
Liam came back to her, holding out one of the glasses of whiskey. “I need you to do something for me.”
She took the offered glass, her brow furrowing even as her stomach dipped. “What is it?”
“Head south. Find Dacelana for me.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Alexia cradled her glass in both hands, her eyes narrowing. “Uncle, if you’re planning some grand romantic declaration—”
The sound he made in his throat stopped her dead and she stared at him. There was a tightness in his expression that was suddenly more evident—and starting to make more sense. She swallowed hard.
What does he know that I haven’t heard? Her uncle had a network of spies that was second to none, though her father’s came close—but only by virtue of inheriting many of her mother’s contacts after she’d been killed.
“Is she in trouble?” she asked simply.
“She could be,” Liam said, his tone grim. He frowned darkly into his glass of whiskey, but didn’t take a sip, not yet. “There are stirrings in the court. It’s just rumors and hearsay thus far, but we both know what that can turn into.”
Alexia’s throat grew tight. “Do you think she’s in danger?” Outside of her father and her uncle, Dacelana Cook was the closest she had to family. She had been Alexia D’Arcy’s first mate and had taken over her ship after her death—and the training of her only child as a sailor, merchant, fighter, and future ship’s captain. It had only been a few years since Daci had struck out on her own with Lachlan Hope’s blessing, leaving Santrellis and Hope’s Mercantile for bluer seas, as the saying went.
“It depends on how everything shakes out,” Liam said. “I’m afraid she is, though—I don’t know what anyone’s actually planning, just the rumors.”
“Rumors about what, Uncle?” Her fingers tightened around the glass and she had to consciously force herself to relax them—the last thing she needed was shards of expensive crystal embedded in her palms.
Now he did toss back a mouthful of the whiskey, turning away and starting to pace. He stopped near the window, staring out at the garden without really seeing what was beyond the glass. She could see his face reflected in the window and she knew his look well. Alexia’s lips thinned.
“I just want to know why I’m doing this, Uncle Liam,” she said, her voice quiet.
“There are rumors about the succession,” he said. “She could be in danger, especially if the rumors about who’s to be named are true.”
She bit her lip, her stomach twisting. “None of this should come from me. You should go. I’ll take you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No,” he said, perhaps a touch too sharply. He closed his eyes, his chin dropping as he sighed. “No, Chance. It can’t be me.”
“You want to protect her. You have the means to do it—all you have to do is go. Is that wrong?”
“In our lives, yes.” He turned back to his niece and offered her a weak smile, a smile that faded a moment later. “They tried to hire the Angel of Death to eliminate her before she can return to Port Royale.”
It was as if she’d just been sucker-punched in the gut. “Who did?”
Her uncle shook his head. “It doesn’t matter—I’ll deal with them when the time is right. I have it on good authority that he turned down the contract, but it’s only a matter of time before someone else takes up the offer. I need you to get to her first. I don’t trust anyone else beyond you and your crew, not in this. Please, Chance.”
Still feeling sick, she nodded slowly. “Of course I’ll do it. I—Uncle Liam, why—”
The old question hung between them, unspoken. The retired thief shook his head.
“That ship sailed long ago. Whatever lies between the two of us—or doesn’t lie between us–doesn’t matter. I intend to keep my promise.”
“Does she even know?”
A crooked, wistful smile curved his lips. “Does it matter?”
The memory of those words and that smile lingered in her thoughts all the way back to the Wild Card that evening and for a long time to come. She took a deep breath and exhaled it a long, unbroken sigh.
“You’re not going to answer me either way,” she said, then tossed back the whiskey in her glass. “We set sail at first light, then, for St. Ransom. Are you going to ask me to keep her away from Port Royale?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” her uncle said, setting his glass down on a side table. “We both know that if she wants to get there, neither of us are going to be able to stop her. Just stay close and try to keep her safe for me.”
As if that’s possible. “I’ll try,” Alexia said. “I can’t promise success.”
“Gods help you.” Liam smiled crookedly, then reached into his vest. “But do give her this, regardless.”
The envelope wasn’t very thick, just a small square of parchment folded several times and sealed with gray wax and her uncle’s recognizable signet. Alexia peered at him as she took the letter, tucking it carefully into the pocket of her coat.
“Let me guess. This will tell her everything she needs to know before she sees you again?”
Liam wrapped one hand around the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You know me so well.”
“You’re turning into one of those silly romantics from those chapbooks, Uncle.”
“As long as I don’t show up in a bodice-ripper anytime soon, I’ll be content.” He drained the last of the whiskey in his glass. “Go on. Give her my best, and send my apologies to your first mate. I’m sure she was looking forward to being far away from Carnivale this year.”
Alexia winced. “I will. Any messages for Papa?”
“Nothing right now. I’m sure you’ll see me again before you see him.” Liam collected her glass. “I’ll send down a few crates this evening for you. Hopefully that will take the sting out of delaying your trip north.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He smiled, perhaps a bit sadly. “Gods watch over you, Lexi.”
“Same to you, Uncle Liam.”
She hugged him one more time before she left the study, headed back to her ship to break the news to her first mate that there had been a change in plans.
Bree perched silently on the bowsprit, staring out at the harbor, toward the lighthouse and the breakwater. There was a chill wind blowing from the north and she wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. Despite the coolness of the evening, she wasn’t inclined to find her way to her bunk. Sleep was the last thing on her mind—which was to say she had no desire to actually do it.
St. Ransom. Then likely to Windfall because we’ll already be there. No reason to keep the crew from enjoying Carnivale, right?
A sigh escaped her and she drew one knee to her chest, still balancing easily above the water. Guilt and regret had been written all over Chance’s face when she’d told her about Liam’s request—a request that he would have known his niece would never refuse. Bree didn’t begrudge him, in any case. Though it was supposed to be a secret, she knew full well the depth of the master thief’s feelings for his childhood friend, his sister’s former first mate. In truth, she envied him the chances he squandered in so many ways.
At least he knows where she is, what she might be doing.
It was more than she could say for herself.
“Miss Bree?”
She startled at the voice, nearly unbalancing as she twisted to see Laucorn peering at her from the deck. “Oh. It’s you.”
He’d had a bath and a decent meal since coming aboard and it looked as if both had done wonders for him—though the clean clothes must have helped, too. He edged closer to the bowsprit, his brows knitting. “What’s the matter?”
For a moment, she contemplated lying. She looked beyond him to the empty decks of the ship and thought better of it, instead rising and moving back toward the rail and the foredeck. “Just thinking,” she said. “There’s been a change of plans regarding destination.”
“I heard something about that in the galley,” Laucorn said. “They said we’re going south instead of north. I heard something about Carnivale, too.”
Bree nodded. “More than likely. We’re headed for St. Ransom first, but since we’ll be so close, I can’t imagine that Chance won’t order us into Windfall for the festival.”
“And you’re not happy about it,” Laucorn said, leaning against the rail, watching her with a serious look in his sea-green eyes.
“Astute observation,” Bree said, her tone dry. Laucorn’s nose wrinkled and she managed to smile. “I would just as soon avoid Carnivale is all. It’s a long story.”
“Oh,” he said, then went quiet. His eyes never left her as she moved around him to lean against the rail, staring down into the water. The careful observation made her think of another man, one whose memory still made her heart ache.
She stared at the water for a long moment in silent contemplation before she glanced up at Laucorn. “You said your name was Laucorn, but you never gave a surname—a family or a clan.”
His expression tightened. “I didn’t think it would matter.”
Bree inclined her head slightly. “It might or it might not. It’s Taurles, isn’t it?”
Laucorn stiffened, paling slightly. “How—”
“You look like them,” Bree said, looking away and staring at the water again. “Which one of them?”
“What do you mean?”
“So far as I know, it was just the two of them, no brothers or sisters, no cousins. Which one of them was your father?”
Laucorn stayed silent for long enough that Bree thought he might not answer. Then, quietly: “Rooks. But I barely remember him. I was practically a baby the last time he sailed away. He never came back after…after.”
“After Nido was razed,” Bree said softly. “I know the story, but they did go back—they went back as soon as they heard. It was chaos, no one knew what was going on. Trakal was the one who found your mother’s body on the beach. They buried her, but couldn’t find any sign of you or their parents. Your father was beside himself—I suppose I would be, too, if I thought my entire future had been wiped out in a single moment.”
Laucorn shook his head slowly. “If they had looked harder—” he broke off, his lips thinning. “Does everyone know that story?”
“No,” she admitted. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t repeat it. It would lead to quite a few unpleasant questions that I would rather not deal with.”
Though she’d likely assume I heard the story from Rooks at some point…she wouldn’t connect it to him, would she?
It was not a risk she was inclined to take.
“I—I won’t, but how—” he stopped, then cleared his throat. “How did you know?”
“Your uncle told me,” Bree said. “I was his engineer, once upon a time, before he vanished but after he killed Chance’s mother.”
Now she did look at him and he stared at her slack-jawed, horror mixing with curiosity in his eyes.
“He—my uncle—”
“Surely you’ve heard the story.”
“I—was it—”
Bree glanced back down toward the water and nodded. “The basics are. The truth is so much more complicated than that.”
But then, it always is.
“I trust you won’t say anything about this,” she said.
“No,” Laucorn said. “No, I won’t. But I…would you…?”
“Would I what?”
“Do you know my father, too?”
Bree looked up and smiled crookedly. “Well enough, anyway. I don’t have a lot of stories about him, but I have a few.”
“He abandoned me,” Laucorn murmured. “At least, that’s what I always thought. I wanted him to come back for me. I used to think that someday he would, but he never did. That’s why I left.”
“He didn’t know you were alive,” Bree said softly, then reached out to brush some of his hair back from his face. It was a tender, almost maternal gesture. Laucorn glanced down at his worn and patched boots. “If he had, nothing would have kept that man from finding you. That’s something about those boys. Loyalty runs deep and family is family.”
“What happened?” Laucorn whispered. “Why do you hurt so much, Miss Bree?”
She gave him a sad smile. “We all have our regrets. Go on. It’s a story for another night. Get some sleep—tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. We set sail at first light.”
He hesitated for a moment before he nodded. “All right,” he said. “Good-night, Miss Bree.”
“Sweet dreams, Laucorn.”
After lingering a moment longer, he turned and headed back below, leaving her at the rail. She stared up at the sky, watched as the blue moon eclipsed its smaller red twin.
“I miss you,” she whispered into the evening wind. “Please be safe.”
There was, of course, no answer.
There had not been one for five long years.
