A Jewel Bright Sea. Claire O'Dell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ could breathe more easily.

      “Better?”

      Yes. For some definition of yes that included raw terror.

      “Who are you?” she whispered. “And where am I?”

      “Never mind who I am. As for where... You are aboard my ship.”

      He had a nobleman’s accent, the vowels all rounded and soft, the rhythm languid, but with the occasional clipped tone that could be a remnant of a military life. A trace of the southern provinces, as well. Clearly not an islander.

      Water splashed nearby. The man smoothed back her hair, which had come undone from its braids, then wiped the vomit from her face and neck with a damp cloth. He worked thoroughly and without any fuss, as though he’d performed this task before. He wasn’t a servant, however, not with that accent. And he had said my ship.

      When he had finished, her mysterious caretaker dried her face with a clean rag. Anna heard the clatter of a bucket, then the sounds of scrubbing as he cleaned up her mess on the floor. Her head still ached, in spite of the magic, and her skull seemed to vibrate in time with the hum that filled the air.

      The hum rose higher and higher, until it became a groan that set her teeth on edge. Abruptly, a whistle sounded, then dozens of feet thumped past overhead.

      The man stood. His fingers brushed against her forehead.

      She shrank back. Immediately, he withdrew his hand.

      “Feeling better now?” he asked.

      She licked her lips and shivered.

      “Right. You need water. After that, some broth.”

      He raised her head with one hand and set a flask to her lips. Cold, clean water spilled over her lips. She drank until the flask ran dry.

      “More,” she croaked.

      “Not yet. You’ll have another accident if you drink too much, too fast.”

      He eased her back into her swinging cot. He was humming a melody, one that seemed to run in counterpoint to the humming from above. She recognized the tune, a popular song she recalled from her childhood back in Duenne, in the days when men and women from the Court and the University called upon her father to discuss logic and philosophy. They also brought gossip, stories about theatre and musical performances—an influx of the wider world.

      The man lifted her head and brought a second flask to her lips. This one contained a mild broth, mixed with an infusion of greens. “Just a few sips,” he said.

      The rich smell made her stomach lurch. She twisted away from the flask and her cheek grazed against a cloth. A bandage? Then another memory dropped into her brain. Oh gods, yes. Him. She could almost taste his blood on her tongue.

      “You,” she breathed. “You’re that one.”

      He gave a soft and almost soundless laugh. “Who else should I be?”

      She could almost hear the shrug in the man’s voice. “You think yourself clever and strong,” she said in a low voice. “All you are is a murdering bully. Your father must be so proud—”

      “Do not speak to me about my father.”

      His voice was short and sharp, all trace of amusement gone. Anna flinched from the expected blow. A long moment passed, with nothing more than the hiss and hush of the ship’s passage.

      At last the man sighed. “Enough games, my lady. We need to talk, you and I.”

      “We have nothing to discuss,” she said breathlessly. They had killed Maté and maybe Raab as well. They had only saved her for their amusement. Once they had finished with her, she would die too.

      “But we do,” he replied. “Your father, for one thing.”

      Her stomach gave another lurch. “What do you mean?”

      “I mean you’ve had the bad luck to fall in with pirates, but the good luck to fall in with my particular company. Those others would mistreat you, just as you obviously fear. Me, I do a brisk trade in runaways. Your father will likely pay a high price to see his daughter safely home.”

      So that is why he had kidnapped her. She’d evidently played her part too well with the innkeeper and everyone else on Vyros. Well, then, let us continue the charade.

      Anna lifted her chin and stared in the direction of his voice. “You shall have your money, you miserable piece of scum,” she said coldly. “And after that, my father will have you whipped.”

      At that he laughed out loud. “Oh, you are magnificent. They must miss your sparkling conversation at Court.”

      She lunged at him, teeth snapping. He only laughed louder. All at once Anna’s fury deserted her. Maté was dead. So were the others, lying like bloody rags on the sands. All the arrogance in the world could not recall them. She choked back a sob, glad the blindfold hid her tears.

      It was my fault. I insisted we follow that signature. I lost myself in magic. If only I had listened to Maté…

      “Would it help if I promised my people will not harm you?” he asked quietly.

      “You’ve already harmed me,” she whispered. “You murdered my—my people.”

      “I have my own dead from that encounter. But I see your point.” There was a brief pause, then he said, “Was that man your lover?”

      If the ropes were not bound so tightly, she would have savaged him. Maté was her friend. Her companion. Her ally. The one person in Lord Brun’s household she trusted. Had trusted. It was her fault he was dead, and there was nothing, nothing she could do to bring him back.

      Her eyes burned with tears. All those lessons from her tutors—how to kill with a single word, how to shape the magical current into a weapon—tumbled through her mind.

      But there were too many unknowns for such an attempt, even if she could bring herself to kill. The size of the crew. The other magic-worker who had tended her during the night. In spite of her grief and rage about Maté, she was not yet done with caution.

      “I have no lover,” she muttered. “They are not worth the trouble.”

      The man said nothing. Anna wished she could see his face, to guess what he might be thinking. From far away, a sailor called out. Another echoed his words, then the floor beneath her leaned to one side. How many hours or days had passed since they had taken her prisoner?

      “Where are you taking me?” she said reluctantly.

      “Have you decided to cooperate?”

      “Do I have a choice?”

      “No. But if you do, you’ll find it makes your time aboard easier.” When she did not answer, he sighed. “Very well. Let us take these matters in smaller steps. Will you consent to eat, Lady Vrou? Then we can talk about terms and parole. I’ve already sent word to your father, but we have a month or more before he replies.”

      And those СКАЧАТЬ