Troy
I was in deep.
Totally and completely in over my head.
And as I watched Horace approach, his gnarled figure limping through the garden as though he were simply out on a stroll, I tensed, my shoulders tight and rigid as I straightened up to my full height and leaned the rake I was holding against one of the freshly pruned bushes.
The garden had beco our eting place after Maeve had caught on the outskirts of the castle grounds on my first day in residence. Horace and I had been leaving notes to each other beneath a pile of fallen stones in the dilapidated shed since I arrived in Valoria several weeks ago as I prepared to masquerade as Aaron, the breeder. Aaron, the one I knew she was falling in love with.
She didn’t know . She couldn’t know . And when she cried out his na while I moved within her, I could have scread and beat my fists in agony. Oh, I was in trouble. eting my mate was not part of the plan.
Neither was trying to save her life.
I was here to trick her, to stall until Damian’s warriors arrived to take over the castle. That was the original plan, at least. No one had said a thing about killing her. Roro wanted to actually bed her and get her pregnant, potentially holding her hostage until the child was born and Roro could do away with her, or worse, keep her alive to harness her powers.
But I wasn’t Roro’s pawn. I hadn’t even known he existed until the Persephone made port in Avondale, the capital of the Isles, six months ago when Alpha Damian demanded my presence and vaguely explained the mission.
I never considered myself part of Poldesse. We smuggled and pirated for them, sure, but I had grown up running wild with the other orphaned “beach rats” until Keaton had stolen enough coins and gems to have the rotten body of the Persephone towed from its shallow grave on a beach on the island of Suntra and fully renovate her.
Then we sailed the high seas. That was my ho. My pack. That was where my loyalties lie.
But then I found out I had a living grandfather, and everything changed.
I would have done anything to know him, to look upon his face and maybe, just maybe, see a hint of the mother I couldn’t rember.
But Roro was a monster. A sick, deranged old man.
And as I stood in the garden, waiting for Horace to make his way toward , I realized how much of a monster I was being to Maeve myself.
I had to get out of it. I had to get her out of it.
“So, it’s done? You’ve—”
“Slept with her?” I hissed, keeping my voice low lest the gardeners were listening. I always spent my mornings in the garden, not having much else to do. The physical labor was good for .
“Yes. Were you successful?”
“Well, we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” I sneered, grasping the rake once more and running it over the freshly cut grass.
Horace’s lips stretched into a thin smile as he watched , my obvious disdain for him seemingly adding years to his life. He was always lurking around, keeping an eye on . I hated him imnsely. I didn’t trust him. And if he ever laid a finger on Maeve....
Speaking of Maeve, I had sowhere to be.
I tossed the rake across the lawn toward the pile of gardening equipnt and pushed past Horace, who looked after in surprise.
“Where are you going?”
I looked back at him, narrowing my eyes into slits. “Did Ernest not tell you? He’s sending on an errand. I’ll be back tomorrow night.” It was a lie.
“Roro wants to see you. You need to be at the castle,” Horace said quickly, his voice low and beady eyes scanning the garden as he took a step toward , his arm outstretched as though the skeleton of a man was going to attempt to grab and physically prevent from moving.
“He can wait. He’s not going anywhere, obviously,” I snorted, looking up at Roro’s tower for a mont before flashing Horace a beaming, although fake, smile. “See ya!”
“Get back here, you insolent boy—”
I was already leagues ahead of him, walking briskly through the garden and out onto the pathway leading down into the village through the greenbelt. I beelined for the trees, cursing under my breath that I hadn’t had ti to change out of the dirt-sared jeans and T-shirt I was wearing. I picked grass clippings from my hair as I walked, tripping over a few roots on my way down. Maeve was supposed to et at the bar. I wanted to get there first.
***
“What do you an you’re leaving?” Maeve took the glass of sparkling water from her lips, her blonde brows knitted in a frown.
“It’s not forever. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“What is this errand Ernest has you going on?” She sipped her drink, her full, pink lips lingering on the glass a mont.
I felt warm all over, and not from the heat of the day. We hadn’t been together intimately since that night in the library a week ago. I had been trying to avoid her as much as I could. I always tried to avoid her. But she kept pulling back in. I could’ve reached across the table and taken her by the back of the neck, bending her over–
“I have to fetch sothing from the port for him,” I said, gripping my pint of beer for dear life as the image faded from my mind.
She sipped from her glass again, then made a face, putting it back down on the café table.
“What’s the matter?”
“Why would Ernest be sending you to the port and not one of his warriors?”
“Because I have nothing to do.”
She arched her brow, looking out over the street where the market stalls were flooding with people. “What are you fetching?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
She gave another look, her face sowhat clouded with emotion this ti.
“Are you upset?” I asked.
“What happens now, Aaron?”
I bit the inside of my cheek the way I always did when she ntioned Aaron’s na. I knew this conversation was coming. I had fulfilled my duties as a breeder this past week. Now we waited.
If she was pregnant, well, the real Aaron would’ve been packed up on a ship headed for Finaldi in a week’s ti. What’s the plan? I thought helplessly, looking over at her and trying to steel my expression. Damian’s n would be here in two weeks to take over. Roro would be free. Maeve would be at his rcy.
But not if I could get word to the Persephone first.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, looking into her eyes. “But I promise you’re going to be okay.”
She gave a quizzical glance and opened her mouth to speak as I quickly drained the last of my beer, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I stood and rounded the table, squeezing her shoulder as I bent down, whispering, “We can talk about this later. I have to go if I’m going to make the next train.”
I desperately wanted to kiss her, especially as she opened her mouth to protest. My fingers ached as my touch left her skin, and I walked off the curb. I tucked them in the pockets of my jeans as I walked, willing myself not to look back.
***
The post office had given a schedule for the Port of Valoria when I requested one two weeks ago. I was looking for the Persephone, knowing she would dock at the port at least once during my stay. I knew Keaton wouldn’t be a part of Damian’s invasion, he had made that very clear. But, I needed to catch her first and get word to Keaton sohow, let him know I needed him to linger in the waters off the coast of Valoria and expect to board when Damian and his pack flooded port on their way to Mirage.
And I would be bringing Maeve with .
I bought a train ticket and waited on the platform, glancing over my shoulder every once and a while to be sure Maeve hadn’t followed .
The Persephone was supposed to dock today, and I had at least a six-hour journey to the port by train. I could have shifted, of course, but I didn’t know my way around the center of Mirage. The railway to the port was new, constructed in the last ten years or so based on what Maeve had told , and it would take directly to the port, and from the port I could do my best to locate Keaton and his crew.
But when I finally reached my location, well after the sun had set over the southern horizon, I was t with a nearly empty port, the little seaside village quiet and somber in the light evening rain.
I walked into one of the taverns near the docks, running my fingers through my hair to bring the wet strands away from my face.
I sat down, looking around as I did so, hoping to see a familiar face.
“What can I get you, mister?” A plump waitress with a pretty, young face was standing before , her round hazel eyes alight with flirtation.
I smiled at her, nodding to the bar. “Whatever’s on tap. I’m not picky.”
She smiled, bobbing her head and walking away, joining up with a group of won who were obviously working in the tavern, the trio looking at over their shoulders as the waitress poured my beer.
I looked around again, spotting a man sitting in a corner booth with his head hanging over a large ledger, pencil in hand. He looked up at the window periodically, frowning, his wire-rimd spectacles following down the bridge of nose as he checked his books again. I stood, ignoring the fact that the waitress was on her way over with the beer, and walked toward the man, sliding into the booth and sitting opposite him.
He looked up, surprised.
“I’m looking for the Persephone,” I began, watching suspicion twist his brow. “She was supposed to be docked here today.”
“Aye, yeah. She was ant to dock. The weather’s holding off several of the larger ships that are coming from open water.”
“So, she hasn’t been here yet?”
The man shook his head, arching his brow in my direction. “You have business with the captain of that ship?”
“He’s a friend,” I said honestly.
The man looked back down at his ledger, my suspicions about the contents being correct. He was a port master, and the estimated arrival and departure tis were clear as day in ink in his books.
“Well, don’t wait up for him. This storm is holdin’ strong; I doubt anyone is going to attempt to cross the channel tonight. Could be tomorrow afternoon before they drop their anchor.”
“Is there a way to get word to him in my absence? A letter, perhaps?” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, flashing a handful of bills.
The man’s eyes narrowed for a mont before he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “That ship is well known on the seas, you know. Captain Keaton, is it? He’s a smuggler.”
“Yeah, and there’s a cut from his recent shipnt for you if you can get a letter to him when he makes landfall.”
The man sighed deeply, looking outside for a mont before looking back at , his expression relaxing as he held out his hand, palm out and open. I placed the bills in his hand and he tore a piece of paper from his ledger, handing it to along with a pencil.
“Be sure this gets into his hands directly,” I said as I reluctantly passed him another bill, waiting for his nod of understanding.
Keaton, there’s more to this than I realized. Wait for . Don’t leave the waters of Valoria. I will co to you in a week.
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