Chapter Ten

If it wasn’t for the needling questions, and the lingering aura of distrust that followed her every time she was escorted around the deck, Anastasia would have enjoyed her time on HMS Pinafore. The crew were polite and well-mannered, working together as a team rather than plotting to backstab their peers at the earliest opportunity; their officers were calm and focused, intensely disciplined as they shared their food and tales with her. And yet, she had no idea what the ship was carrying, or how the pirates had obtained the blood they’d used to track her down, or just what Felix and his crew intended to do with her when they finally reached the free city. It was lucky they believed she’d been a captive, she was sure. If they’d thought her a pirate, they would have clapped her in irons or simply cut her throat.

The irony, she reflected, was that she was getting to like Felix too. He was kind, making no attempt to take advantage of her … he hadn’t even searched her body or bag, which would have revealed both the fetishes and books of dark and dangerous magic. She had done her best to come up with a cover story, planning to say she’d stolen them from the pirate captain, but she doubted it would be a very convincing lie. They would certainly insist on confiscating the books, if they knew she had them, and there was nothing she could do about it if she tried. And given that they were her only ace in the hole …

Her dreams were dark and twisted things, memories that weren’t hers sliding into her mind as though they belonged there. Maurice’s memories, she knew; things he'd done, or had done to him, that had happened even though she wanted to believe they hadn’t. She had no idea what had happened to the fetish she’d made from his blood, after she’d discovered it was no longer useful and dropped it, but … she told herself, firmly, that it was nothing more than the remnants of the mind she’d touched working their way through her mind. Thankfully, the navy crew were very understanding of her nightmares. She had been a captive, and captives were lucky if they were only treated as slaves.

“We’ll pass on what you told us,” Felix said, over dinner. He’d invited her to eat with him – and him alone. “I’m surprised they didn’t do more with you than just chores.”

Anastasia hid her irritation. Felix was smart, constantly poking at her story. He was smart enough to attract her, a foreign nobleman with a career … too low-ranking to pose any sort of threat to her, if he became Prince Consort. If she’d met him under normal circumstances, perhaps at a ball when young men were introduced to young women under the watchful eyes of their parents and relatives, she might have been interested enough to ask her father to open negotiations. He wouldn’t be perfect, but who was? Here … she knew it would be dangerous to even hint at the possibility. She was a low-born trader’s daughter, as far as he knew, and there was no way in hell he could marry her.

“I think they thought they could get a ransom,” she said, finally. She’d been as honest as she dared about what she’d actually done on the free state, admitting to working as a servant for a sorcerer without going into details about just what kind of magic he practiced. “When they realised there wouldn’t be any money for my safe return …”

She shrugged, allowing his imagination to fill in the details. Young women were not supposed to talk about certain things, let alone admit to having done them. Maurice’s memories gave her plenty of ideas, but Felix would smell a rat if she gave him too many details. Or worse, he’d think less of her. She knew how easily Maurice had overpowered her, how he could have taken her if she hadn’t used magic to scare him off … it was shitty, in every sense of the word, to blame a young woman for being raped, but society often did. She promised herself things would be different, if – when – she made it home. She would ensure rape victims wouldn’t have to hide themselves in shame. It wasn't their fault.

Maurice’s memories rose up, again. He’d liked it when they struggled. It made it all the sweeter.

Anastasia retched. Felix looked up. “Are you alright?”

Stupid question, Anastasia thought, feeling a hot flash of irritation. How could he understand what had happened to her, how helpless she’d been … how helpless she still was? She had a handful of books, some money and very little else. The fetish hidden under her shirt was a constant liability, a grim reminder of just what could happen if it fell into enemy hands. Or if she accidentally left it behind. Of course I’m not alright.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “It’s just” – she groped for an explanation and came up with one she hoped would force him to change the subject – “it’s just my time of the month.”

Felix reddened. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I …”

“I just don’t want to think about it,” Anastasia said. “How did you wind up commanding a naval vessel, anyway?”

“My father was amongst the first to pledge his loyalty to Queen Alassa when she proclaimed herself Queen,” Felix said. He spoke rapidly, as if he wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. “He was rewarded with a greater lordship, my older brother took over our ancestral lands and I was offered the choice between the army and the navy. I’d always liked boats, so …”

Anastasia had to smile. “Why the navy?”

“Too many older officers with more titles than brain cells.” Felix winked at her. “Prince Jade cleaned out a lot of officers who were too stupid to count past ten without taking off their shoes, but too many others remained in their posts. It would be difficult for me to make a name for myself if I went into the army, at least while I was young enough to enjoy it. The navy has more room for advancement, if you have experience as well as birth.”

“Smart,” Anastasia said. She had no idea if it was, but her mother had told her that praising young men was a strategy that rarely failed. “Prince Jade?”

“Technically, he’s Prince Consort Jade, the Queen’s husband and father of Princess Emily,” Felix explained. “He’s the Lord Commander of Her Majesty’s Armies.”

“And he’s not the King?”

Felix’s expression darkened. “No. He’s the Prince Consort.”

He shrugged. “Some of the older officers don’t like that, they think they should serve under a King. Too traditional for their own good, that lot.”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“It sounds like it,” Anastasia agreed. “What do you think?”

“The world is changing,” Felix said. He waved a hand at the bulkhead. “Pinafore is a sailing ship, but they’re already launching steam-powered vessels with iron hulls that don’t depend on the wind to get them from place to place. I’ve seen airships flying over the city and guns that can take down a magician from a safe distance, innovations that can and do change the world. The traditions have their place, I suppose, but I lost a friend who led a cavalry charge against riflemen. King Randor, damned be his name, send them to their deaths. I won’t stay wedded to tradition if tradition threatens to get my sailors killed.”

Anastasia cocked her head. “You don’t mind taking orders from a woman?”

Felix looked back at her. “Why do you ask?”

“It was never easy to get anyone to listen to me, when I was younger,” Anastasia said, after a moment. “They had a strange little habit of never hearing women, particularly young women. It was hard to convince some that I really did speak for my father …”

“If she knows what she’s doing, and she seems to, I don’t mind,” Felix said. “Does that answer your question?”

Anastasia said nothing. Rockfall tended to be a great deal more progressive about such things, but it was harder for an aristocratic woman to act in her own name. Traders tended to be male because other kingdoms were much less progressive … or so she’d been told. Magic was the only field where men and women were truly equal … there was no point in berating herself again for failing to learn the skills she needed. All she could do was try to make up for lost time.

“Does it?” Felix leaned forward. “Why do you care?”

Because I am the Crown Princess and I want to rule in my own name, Anastasia thought, gritting her teeth as the curse pressed down on her once again. But I can’t tell you that, can I?

“My father’s business will probably have been absorbed by my uncles by now,” she said, instead. “But if I find a way to set myself up in Beneficence instead … I’d like to do it in my own name, instead of my husband’s. I knew a woman who did all the work, but everything had to be in her husband’s name … and he wrecked the business, through signing the wrong thing. I don’t want that to happen to me.”

Felix blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Anastasia said. It was partly true. Her father had overseen a very similar case, although it was a little more complex than she’d implied. “I don’t want to become dependent on a man.”

Felix looked oddly hurt. “Not all men are bastards. I mean …”

Anastasia giggled. “I know what you mean,” she said. “But I don’t want to take the risk.”

“Go to Cockatrice,” Felix advised. “You’ll find room to set up a business for yourself, if you can.”

“I can try,” Anastasia said. She stared down at her hands. “And if I fall into a pitfall?”

She looked up, suddenly. “Can you teach me to use a sword?”

Felix snickered, not unkindly. “Do you know how long it takes to master the blade?”

Anastasia shook her head. She’d been offered sword lessons when she’d been younger, but she’d never taken them. It had felt pointless, in a castle surrounded by armed guards. A man might want to kidnap her, but not to kill her. And yet …

“It takes weeks to gain a little proficiency,” Felix said. “That’s without getting into the issue of being legally allowed to carry a blade …”

Anastasia flushed. Rockfall allowed anyone to carry a blade, let alone more modern weapons, but other kingdoms disliked the idea of swords in private hands. She had every right to carry a blade as a princess, yet if he thought she was a common-born merchant … even asking for a weapon was a good way to get in trouble. She had no idea what she could say or do to retrieve the situation, if there was anything she could do. If he suspected the truth and kept asking questions, the curse would strangle her. Or he’d clap her in irons and hand her over to his superiors.

“You could carry a virgin blade,” Felix said, after a moment. “Do you know the basics?”

“No,” Anastasia said. It was something else she’d failed to learn. “How do you …?”

Felix stood and pushed the table to one side, then dug into the drawer under his bunk to retrieve a small dagger. “A gift, given freely and without obligation,” he said. “A sleeve dagger, with a protective scabbard. Roll up your sleeves.”

Anastasia hesitated, then obeyed. The hints of ill-use stood out against her pale skin, a reminder of everything she’d been forced to do … the knowledge it could have been a great deal worse was no help, not when it had been quite bad enough. Felix held out the scabbard and pressed it against her left forearm, strapping it gently but firmly to her skin. Anastasia felt her skin tingle where he’d touched it and felt a flash of arousal, mingled with shame and something she didn’t want to look at too closely. She was alone with a young man. If her parents ever found out … she wanted to scream in frustration, to curse her parents as well as herself. She no longer cared about her reputation.

“The blade is concealed within the sleeve,” Felix explained, rolling her sleeve down to hide the scabbard. “This isn’t a quick-draw scabbard – you’ll need to buy one at the shops, along with some lessons from a proper instructor – but it will suffice. You draw the dagger like” – he guided her hands in the right motions – “and hold it in your right hand, ready to stab.”

Anastasia smiled as she held up the blade. “How do I stab?”

Felix looked grave. “The first rule of knife-fighting is don’t,” he said. “If your opponent has more reach than you, they can cut you in half before you can stab him. Letting him get close is the only way to be sure of a strike, but if he’s stronger or faster than you that’s a good way to get killed – or worse. Ideally, you need him close enough to draw the blade and strike before he realises the danger. That isn’t easy.”

“I see, I think,” Anastasia said.

“My father used to tell me that carrying a weapon was a good way to get into … stuff,” Felix said. “He would point out that there’s no such thing as a weapon that makes you invincible. You can get hurt or killed because you’re swaggering around with a sword in your hand, thinking you’re the greatest of the great. If you didn’t know what to do with it …”

He took a wooden dagger out of the drawer and held it up. “This is blunt enough to be sore, but not cut the skin,” he said. “You won’t able to do more than give me a bruise.”

“Even if I stab you with it?”

“It’s too blunt,” Felix assured her. He pressed the blunted edge into his palm to prove it. “I’ll be fine as long as you don’t stab me in the eye.”

Anastasia nodded, then carefully released the real blade and strapped the wooden dagger in its place. It wasn’t easy to work out how to draw it, particularly as the scabbard wasn’t designed to launch the blade down into her waiting palm. The thought didn’t make her feel any better about carrying the dagger, not least because it was easy to imagine accidentally stabbing herself in the hand. If that happened … a healer could patch her up, if there was one to hand. Was there?

She listened carefully as Felix guided her through the motions, then moved into a mock attack. It wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. It was difficult, if not impossible, to get the blade out before he caught her hands, holding them in place with unbreakable strength. She knew she’d grown a little stronger over the last few weeks, but she wasn’t strong enough to throw him off. If he caught hold and held her down, it was over.

“You need to practice,” Felix said. He was a good teacher, she’d decided, but she needed more practice. “Most attackers will assume you’re carrying your blade on the right forearm. You’re currently holding it on your left …”

“You know I have the blade,” Anastasia pointed out, crossly. It was hard not to feel frustrated at her lack of success. “What happens if you don’t move until I get it out?”

Felix shrugged. “Do you want to try?”

“Yes.” Anastasia tucked the blade back into her sleeve, then braced herself. “Now …”

She pulled the dagger out … Felix darted forward, catching hold of her wrist and pushing it aside. She lost her balance and fell to the deck, Felix landing on top of her, barely managing to break his fall with the other hand. She was suddenly very aware of his body pressed against hers, her breasts brushing against his chest and her lips so very close to his … a surge of excitement shot through her, mingled with horror and fear. He was staring down at her, breathing heavily … their eyes met and she knew he wanted to kiss her. She wanted to kiss him too. It would be so easy to let him.

“We can’t,” she managed. She had never been so close to a man before. She had never realised how easy it would seem to throw caution to the winds and let him kiss her, undress her, go inside her … “We can’t …”

Felix hesitated, then let go of her wrist and rolled off her. Anastasia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Maurice’s memories outlined all the horrible things he could do to her, if he was inclined to just hold her down while he had his way with her. Cold words, for something so horrific … she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to sit upright. Gods! Was she ever going to have a normal relationship? She would have to get home first.

“You’d better take the dagger and go,” Felix said. He was breathing heavily, unwilling to look at her. She couldn’t tell if he was disgusted at her or at himself or … if he had felt the urge to push ahead anyway, despite her refusal, and hated himself for feeling it. Maurice had never felt remorse over his deeds, he’d never seen any of his victims as human. “You’ll find other teachers in Beneficence.”

“I …” Anastasia swallowed and started again. “Thank you for the lessons, My Lord.”

Felix managed a ghost of a smile. “It never happened,” he said. His voice was shaky. “Agreed?”

“Yeah,” Anastasia said. She had the sudden impression of a shared future, a future that would never be. “It never happened.”