Kastali Dun

Desaree glanced around the corner, keeping to the shadows of the apothecary shop, then she motioned the others forward. They sprinted across the lane, careful to keep their cloaks drawn tight over their bodies, over the baggage they carried. Breathless, her heart hammered in her chest. "I think we are clear," she whispered. "That was the last of the city watch." The docks loomed up before them. It wasn't quite dark; the evening meal would be held soon. But that also meant they were perilously close to missing their chance.

"Hurry," Saffra hissed, rushing them along as their feet slapped the wooden slats where the docks began. A vast maze of walkways jutting out over the water stretched before them. "Look for Boundless. It's the largest of the six and doesn't leave until sundown." They rushed to Dock Nine, where most of the ships had already been loaded earlier today. Even though the day was drawing to an end, there was a flurry of activity all around them. Orders were being issued and several of the ships on Dock Nine were already pulling out.

"There!" Jocelyn cried, pointing. They raced forward, dodging bodies still finishing the final loading preparations.

Saffra had given them the update as soon as she'd returned earlier that day. If they were going to make this work, it was now or never. Saffra had already met several of the captains; the captain of the Boundless was one of them. Their plan hinged on his remembering who she was—how important she was.

They stopped before the giant vessel, it's sleek wooden hull was several body lengths from the dock, connected by two wide planks for coming and going, one at the front and the other near the rear. The decks of the Boundless towered up above them, nearly too high to see. But there was a rush of activity aboard.

"Follow my lead," said Saffra, leading them up the plank and onto the deck.

It took several minutes, caught up in the activity, for anyone to notice them. One of the crew stepped into their path. "Pardon, ladies, but yeh can't be here. We're settin' off in a moment— No, Telek, not there. Put them below!" The man in their path hesitated a moment, watching a barrel-chested crew member, Telek, haul a pile of crates away, before looking back at them. "Anyhow, the time to say goodbye to yer lads was earlier—no, Rory, secure that first—"

"We're not here to say goodbye," Saffra said, interrupting his string of orders as she dropped her cloak hood. She stood nearly as tall as the man before them. "I'm here for Captain Kett. I have business with him." She glanced around. "Ah. There he is." Without waiting for permission, she stepped around the man and led them up a flight of stairs to the deck in the back.

Desaree glanced around, placed a hand over her stomach to calm it. The deck beneath them was in constant motion, even here where the ship was still secured in the port. She glanced around, looking over everything. Her eyes couldn't find a place to land. There was too much activity. Too much going on.

"Lady Saffra," Captain Kett said, stepping forward as they emerged from the stairs. This deck stood taller than the rest of the ship, offering a magnificent view. "Is everything a'right? Did the king send you? Has there been a change in plans?"

"Yes, and no, Captain. As you know, the cargo on these ships is very precious. And as was mentioned, we three were the ones who engineered it." Saffra's voice didn't falter, not even once. "The king decided it best that we accompany it, just to make sure nothing goes awry. If anything were to happen..."

Captain Kett frowned, scratched his beard, eying them. Desaree's heart skipped, but she was careful—oh so careful—not to fidget, not to wipe her sweaty hands on the inside of her cloak, careful not to give anything away. They were meant to be here. That was the impression she was meant to give off. And, anyway, they were. They had just as much right to journey north as everyone else.

"Beg your pardon, my lady but..."

"I've got the order here, Captain, from the king." Saffra fumbled around inside her cloak.

Desaree held her breath as Saffra produced a sealed letter. The king's seal. The king's signature inside, accompanying Captain Kett's instructions.

"Huh," said the captain as he took it. He eyed the seal before breaking it open to read the contents, silent for several moments, moments that felt like a lifetime. How long did it take to read a few lines, anyway?

It hadn't been difficult to sneak into King Talon's tower while he was away with Saffra and Verath, surveying the loading of their cargo. She and Jocelyn had dodged nearly twelve tower servants overseeing the king's departure preparations. All for this bit of parchment in Captain Kett's hands. Such a forgery was punishable by death. Obviously, they reasoned, Claire would never allow that. King Talon himself wouldn't either...would he? Oh, he'd be furious. But she was betting that Verath would be even more so. She pushed the thought aside as the ship captain studied the parchment.

There was no possible way for the seal to be anything but authentic. Because it was. And the words they'd used were reasonable, too. There'd been enough letters scattered on King Talon's desk to copy his handwriting and his signature.

Still, a flurry of butterflies blossomed in her stomach.

There hadn't been another way. They'd tried what they could to convince the Shields of their right to accompany them north. And when that hadn't worked, they'd resorted to other means. She didn't feel much remorse. Not when they'd been denied by even the king. Denied when they should have been the first allowed to go—it was their concoctions on board these ships. They were the ones who'd spent a month in those dark, dank caverns beneath the city. Brewing and brewing and brewing.

"The king's word cannot be questioned," she found Captain Kett saying as he rolled the letter and placed it in his vest. "Very well." He surveyed them. "Which one o' ya's Desaree and which is Jocelyn?" They introduced themselves before he led them below. "Best you not associate too much with the crew. They're too bawdy for the likes of your ladyships. I'll not have ya tainted by their association. You'll have to share this here cabin, as I didn't have anything extra prepared. You'll come on deck if you need to, but stay outta the way. I got places for you to sit, up and outta the way, if you need. But rather you stay down here if it can be helped." He eyed them warily. "Come find me if you need anything. Me—not the other crew, mind."

With that, he nodded and shut them in the tiny cabin. Four bunks. It would do just fine. They waited in silence, motionless, waited until they didn't hear anything more from outside their door. Then a collective sigh broke the silence.

"It was too easy," Jocelyn whispered, tossing her things on the nearest bottom bunk. Desaree eyed the other three beds before picking the one just above Joce. She unclipped and pulled away her cloak before climbing up.

"Here—" Saffra was already busy rummaging through her belongings. She handed each of them a ball of sticky, tacky, amber-looking candy. But it wasn't candy and it tasted horrible. "It will keep you from getting sea sick. Captain Kett is right, the less we can spend above deck, the better. I don't want it coming out that we forged the letter. He'd be forced to turn around. It would delay plans. I don't want to be the reason this whole thing goes to Undirfold."

Desaree nodded, swallowing the mass in her mouth, grimacing. She'd been too nervous to pay much attention to the neasua rolling through her at the unsteadiness beneath their feet. But now that they were alone, she was glad Saffra had thought beyond getting on board. Still, her mouth tasted like she'd grabbed a handful of leaves from the nearest tree and shoved them in.

"I hope you didn't expect it to tase like sugar," Saffra drawled, noticing the look on their faces.

Desaree shrugged, then sighed, leaning back against the wall, already, the effects were calming the roiling feeling in the pit of her abdomen. "We did it," she mused. "I almost don't believe it."

Saffra snorted. "You're welcome. And if anything goes wrong..."

"I know. I know. It was my idea." Desaree shrugged. "But you cannot deny, Claire gets to have all the fun. And why? Because she's a lady from another world where courage and bravery are normal for females? I'm tired of being left behind. Tired of sitting around waiting, expected to embroider cushions all day—"

"There's nothing wrong with embroidering cushions!" came the muffled voice from below her bunk.

"That's not my point, Joce. I'm just tired of sitting back while everyone else gets to defend this kingdom. There's more to being a lady than flouncing around in pretty gowns all day." She hadn't always believed that. It was Claire who'd made her realize it.

"Indeed," Saffra tisked, still standing in the middle of the small cabin, watching both of them. "Except if I recall, Des, you're the one who insists on the pretty gowns in the first place."

"Well, there's a time and place for every sort of attire." Desaree crossed her arms, staring Saffra down.

Saffra shrugged. "All I'm saying is, this was entirely your idea. For the record. In case anyone ever asks. Because...they probably wouldn't believe it unless you were the one to admit it." Saffra was usually the daring one of the three. After all, she had magic, and magic meant options. Yet, Saffra had been a little less eager to go sneaking off like this.

Desaree grinned. It hadn't taken too much convincing. Especially after Bedelth was the one to tell Saffra that they'd be safer in the capital, away from the threat of wild dragons. That was the last straw—as Saffra saw it—the ammunition Desaree had used. Saffra seemed intent on doing exactly the opposite of anything Bedelth suggested these days.

The sounds around them changed. Above them, voices rose. The three of them froze, listening. Desaree's heart lurched. "Is it—?"

"No. Be quiet." Saffra held up a hand and they listened. More shouts made their way down to them—orders being issued. "It's just the command to sail," Saffra said, letting out a breath. "We made it in time. It's done."

The three of them tucked in, retrieved some meal items, and sat about on Jocelyn's bunk, enjoying freshly baked bread and cheese they'd pilfered from the cookery as the ship made its way out of the port.

***

A roar split the air and Desaree jumped. They were sitting on the floor of their small cabin, playing cards. The night had passed uneventfully, except for the times that they needed to relieve themselves. There were no pit toilets on a ship like this. Most of the crew were fine with hanging over the edge to do their buisness, the notion of which had been appalling to all three of them. So a bucket was located and that was that. The morning had seen them in the small cook's space eating biscuits and jam. And as the morning gave way to afternoon, they'd passed the time in their cabin with the deck of cards for Rue that Saffra had brought along.

Now they all sat frozen, eyes locked together, listening.

"Was that...?" Jocelyn's throat bobbed.

"Stay here, I'll go above." Saffra jumped to her feet.

"Oh, I think we will all go above," Desaree decided, not wanting to miss a thing, especially if the sound was what she thought it was.

"It can't possibly be..." Jocelyn blinked, looking between them.

"A dragon?" Saffra finished, eyes narrowing at Desaree.

Desaree swallowed, ignoring the racing beat of her heart. Somehow she knew. She knew it was him. Verath. She'd known that he would come and search for her the moment he found her note. That he'd put it all together and fly strait to her. Half a day's sailing wouldn't have been enough to deter him.

They raced out of the cabin for the stairs that would take them above deck. The hall was dim and they held their arms out, steadying themselves as they made their way. The roll of the ship over the waves was a constant motion, forcing them to change their gait as they walked.

She'd left the letter on Verath's bookshelf, knowing full well that he'd miss her at dinner, wonder where she was, and the go looking through the castle. The first places he would have looked was her room, Claire's room, Saffra's room—thinking the three of them might be together. He might have even raced down into the caves, because that was where she'd spent so much of her time over the last month. Many nights sleeping on cots below rather than in Verath's arms.

He wouldn't have gone to his room until his frustration won out. And even then, spotting the note on his bookshelf wouldn't have been immediate. Likely, he would have already grown uneasy with worry by then, possibly issuing orders to have the city searched. But she'd known that once he found the note, he'd have a better idea of where she'd disappeared to.

She knew it the moment they'd hatched their plan, and yet, she'd still gone through with it. Why? Because it would be a lot harder to haul her off this ship with Saffra and Jocelyn. Even if he didn't come alone. More importantly, because she was her own person. He didn't own her. Once she was aboard this ship, she'd insist on staying. That was her plan, anyway.

She wasn't so certain the moment they appeared on deck and felt the ship lurch with the impact of heavily booted feet striking the wood, the impact of a dragon transformed to a human. She saw him from the doorway of the stairs where she stood, shadowed beside Jocelyn and Saffra. They held perfectly still to avoid attracting notice.

Verath—in his human form—was like all Drengr, towering over the rest of the Boundless crew. His muscles bunched and bulged beneath the white tunic he wore as he stalked across the deck, his head turning this way and that. The crew onboard gawked, openmouthed, at his appearance. There were other ships in the vicinity, all keeping a wide birth.

"Where is she?!" The roar made her flinch. "I can smell her on this ship. Where is she?"

The captain was already racing across the deck. "My lord?"

Verath rounded on him, voice raised. She saw his eyes then—even at this distance—flashing with anger and...worry. "Lady Desaree. She was here. Her scent is all over this ship, I can smell it. He turned in a circle, as if expecting to see her assembled with the crew."

She backed deeper into the shadows of the doorway, out of the glaring sunlight of early spring. Behind her, Jocelyn and Saffra did the same, peering over her shoulder. Her throat was dry, too dry.

"Of course, my lord," said Captain Kett. "Of course. I'll have her summoned from—"

Verath moved quickly. Had she blinked, she would have of missed it. The captain was pinned between Verath's forearm and the nearest mast in the middle of the deck. His crew stood motionless, eyes wide. They didn't dare interfere with a Drengr, especially not a Shield. "Why did you allow her aboard this ship? Your orders were to carry cargo, not a human female."

Desaree opened her mouth several times, not quite sure what to do. Meanwhile, the ship captain fumbled with his vest pocket, all but begging Verath to take the parchment bearing the king's seal. Verath dropped his arm and looked it over while Captain Kett sagged in relief. The moment was short lived. Verath bared his teeth, pinning the captain once more, a hand firmly pressed to the captain's chest. "This is a forgery," he hissed, waving the slip of parchment in the captain's face.

"I think you'd better go out and diffuse the situation," Jocelyn hissed.

"Me?"

Saffra snorted. "Who else got us into this mess. You did, remember?"

"I'm not leaving this ship with him," Desaree said, as if reminding herself.

"Then go out and tell him so, but for the sake of the gods, put poor Captain Kett out of his misery. The man's quaking. It's Verath, remember? He frightens everyone almost as much as King Talon does."

Desaree'd forgotten that bit—grown so close to him, so accustomed to his touch, to his gentle side, that she'd forgotten what he was. A dragon. Only half human. Today it was the beast-half that was out in full force. "Operating under a forged letter from the king is illegal. I ought to have you—"

"Verath, enough!" Desaree stepped out into the sunlight, putting herself on full display. She wasn't dressed the way she usually was. Instead, she'd donned a pair of trousers and a roomy tunic that hung nearly to her knees, belted tightly around her waist to show off her generous curves. It ended at the elbows where she'd rolled the sleeves, showing off her forearms.

"Desaree..." Verath took her in, blinking. She noticed the way his shoulders relaxed at the sight of her. "What have you done?" The letter crumpled as he closed his fist around it. But he'd shifted his focus from the captain, released the man now sagging up against the mast.

She strode over to them. "Captain? I apologize for this mix up. You may return to your work after Lord Verath apologizes for handling you so inappropriately."

"I will do no such—"

"You will!" she demanded, rounding on him. "You will, or you'll have me to contend with."

"I already have you to contend with," he bit out, his scaly beast resurfacing.

"Well," she said, crossing her arms, lifting her chin, "then you'll have more of me to contend with. Apologize—now. You are not acting as a Shield ought."

He flinched, glanced between her and the captain, hesitated, then bowed to the captain. "Forgive me, sir. The lady is right. I ought not to have handled you so before understanding the...situation." At this, his eyes darted to Desaree and narrowed with accusation. But he stood anyway and said, "I hope we can lay this matter to rest."

"Of—of course, my lord. No need to fret." But the captain still gazed at them with wide eyes, his fear not quite gone.

"We tricked Captain Kett into letting us aboard," Desaree explained. "As you can imagine, we are perfectly capable of such things." She squared her shoulders, as if proving her point—that she was perfectly capable of taking matters into her own hands should the need arise. "None of this is in any way, his fault." Verath looked as if he desperately wished to argue that point but he smartly kept his mouth closed. "Now then, for the record, we knew exactly what we were doing when we forged that letter. I take full responsibility. I snuck into the king's study—it was my doing. All of it." She would leave Jocelyn and Saffra out of it. "When we arrive at the battle camp, I will submit myself to King Talon's justice."

"When we arrive at...?" He barked a laugh. "You're not arriving anywhere. I'm taking you back to the capital."

"No. You're not." She planted her feet, crossed her arms. "I'm staying on this ship. You will take me nowhere without my consent. Not unless you wish to do something you will dearly regret..." She loved him, gods, she did. But if he did this, if he took this away, made this decision against her will...

She wasn't sure there'd be any coming back from something like that. He must have seen exactly what she was thinking written plainly on her features. Her defiance. The repercussions of his actions if he acted against her wishes.

He swore under his breath then glanced over at the shadowy stairway that led down into the depths of the ship. An agitated hand combed through his head of dark hair, hair that she had only just recently trimmed again for him, and yet, it seemed to have grown nearly a handspan in only a couple of weeks.

"You need another haircut," she blurted, doing everything she could to maintain the appearance of sternness as she said it.

He blinked. "Is that so?" he asked, voice flat. His eyes took on a far away look, but only briefly. He was talking to King Talon, telling him what had just happened. She knew it without him saying a word. His eyes always did that when he was using his mind.

"I'm not going back, Verath. We're going to the camp. We will be safe enough there. I will not sit idle while you fly off to reclaim Fort Squall. I'm staying here. So you can fly back to Kastali Dun and tell our king what I've done, and that I'll submit myself to his justice once I'm there."

"Fly back to Kastali Dun? I'm not going anywhere. You think I'm going to let you stay here alone?"

"Saffra and Jocelyn are here with me, as you well know." As if on cue, the two women stepped out of the shadows, but only just. Not close enough to be within Verath's reach.

"Be that as it may, I'm not leaving any of you here unchaperoned." A muscle in his jaw ticked. He didn't look even remotely happy about this change in his plans. It was his own fault—he had no one to blame but himself.

She snorted. "Fine. Then if you're staying, you'll have to find somewhere else to bunk. No one wants you around with that attitude in our cabin." Huffing, she turned on her heel and marched off, back down into the shadowed stairway. She didn't look back, even though she knew she'd see Verath gaping after her if she did.

***

"He's been standing out on the deck for two days," Saffra announced, shutting the door to their cabin. "You're going to have to face him sooner or later."

Desaree sat on her bunk. She tucked her feet up and rested her chin on her knees, letting her eyes go unfocused. Saffra was right. She couldn't ignore him for the duration of their voyage. She thought perhaps after the spectacle on deck, that he'd come looking for her, that he'd insist on discussing what she'd done, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd given her space to cool off. Space to think.

Two days was plenty of time for thinking.

While she didn't regret her decision to leave Kastali Dun, she did feel guilty about hiding this from him. She'd even considered how she would feel if their roles were reversed. If Verath had snuck around and disappeared without telling her. That alone left her stomach knotted. She didn't want a relationship of secrets—didn't want either of them to feel forced to hide things.

A deep sigh fell from her chest. "I suppose I should go talk to him."

"I think that would be wise," Saffra agreed, taking a seat beside Jocelyn on the bottom bunk. She swung her legs over and dropped to the floor, leaving the cabin. They'd stayed mostly below deck. The captain had been extremely accommodating, especially once Verath was on board. Likely he was terrified that anything short of exemplary behavior would get him eaten alive by Verath's scaly red dragon lurking beneath his skin.

It was an overcast day, but even still, the brightness on deck took a moment of adjustment. She saw him as soon as she emerged. Her eyes always had a way of finding him no matter the crowd or place. His back was to her. He stood at the prow, legs shoulder-width apart, arms clasped behind his back, shoulders straight, head forward, gazing out over the water. His dark hair rustled in the sea breeze. She watched him a moment, admiring the bulk of his muscle—gawking, really. In the time they'd been together, despite all their intimate moments, she'd never gown tired of the sight of him. In fact, with each passing day, her appreciation of him grew.

As if he sensed her, he glanced over his shoulder. Their eyes met. He held her gaze for a moment, and even from here, she could see the way his eyes calmed at the sight of her. He turned forward again. It wasn't a dismissal, per se, but more of an invitation. She crossed the deck to stand beside him, letting the silence stretch out between them. Indecision left her tongue tied.

"Have...have you been standing out here for two days?" was all she could manage. He grunted in response, keeping his gaze forward. Well, then. "Verath, I...I'm—"

"You do not owe me an apology, Des." His voice was soft.

Her mouth snapped shut. But...wasn't he furious with her? For deceiving him?

"It was my own actions that steered you here. My own actions that made you feel the need to do this behind my back, to run away, to sneak away, because you felt you had no other choice." He sighed. His shoulders dropped.

"I..." She cleared her throat. "I shouldn't have kept it from you. But...you are correct. I felt I had no other option."

"Des..." He turned to face her, taking one of her hands in his. "A war camp is a hard place, the kind of place I would spare you from. There's little privacy to be had, certainly no bathing chambers, the food isn't ideal—for you humans, that is. It busy. Messy, even. Exposed to the elements. And dangerous, should the dragons discover it." His gaze searched hers. "It isn't a place willingly endured. War camps serve a purpose. The people within them serve a purpose—"

"And you're saying I have no reason to be there? I have no purpose to serve—"

"That is not—"

"No, it is! It's exactly what you are saying. And you are right to say it. I have no purpose in going," she finished, her voice taking on a desperate edge. "When Claire was here, I had a purpose. Caring for her brought me joy. It gave me a reason to wake each morning. Something to occupy my time. But when she left..." She inhaled. "There are only so many times I can tidy her chambers, only so many gowns I can commission on her behalf while she's away, only so many..." She shook her head, letting her frustration out. "You are right. This was..." So stupid. What point did she have in going to a war camp? To do what? Sit around and wait to hear what happened? "It was a stupid plan." She turned on her heel to leave, but Verath didn't relinquish her hand.

Instead, he pulled her closer. "Desaree..." Shivers raced down her skin. "I like to think your purpose is to bring me joy, but that is a selfish notion. I know you, I know your capacity to care. You take pride in helping others, in giving yourself. It's why you took Claire under your wing when she arrived, why you mother-hen her so much. Your capacity to care for others, to do thankless work without complaint, has always drawn me to you. Our war camp will be lucky to have you. We will find something for you when we arrive. There are meals to be prepared, tents to be constructed and maintained, and so much more." He bent and kissed her forehead. "I should have been more observant. I should have listened to what you were feeling, why you felt this need to join us. I was selfish and...distracted. Forgive me."

She exhaled, hesitating, then threw her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest. "Thank you," she breathed, pushing into him. His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head.

"You will still have the king to contend with. He didn't sound happy to discover your deceit. Especially that you snuck in and used his seal for forgery."

She stilled. Yes, there was that to think of. Was he truly so angry? She supposed he was. He'd become less frightening as of late.

"Can't...can't you speak to him, smooth things over?"

"I have tried."

Of course he had. Why wouldn't he? He only wanted to protect her, after all. And their ship was still close enough along the coast that Verath and King Talon would continue to communicate telepathically.

"He has agreed that you will not be punished for treason, which would be a most unforgiving death. However he has reminded me that such behavior still warrants punishment." While his words were heavy, there was something almost...teasing in his tone. "He mentioned something off-hand. Something about digging latrines at camp. I might have warmed him up to something less severe, like delivering evening meals. I suppose we will find out when we arrive."

A bark of laughter burst from her chest, leaving her lighter than she'd been in days. Perhaps she hadn't realized how heavy this deceit was weighing on her. If delivering meals was the worst King Talon could come up with, well, it wasn't exactly work she was a stranger to.

"I will accept whatever punishment our king feels fit to mete out," she said, looking up at him. The corner of his lips twitched. "Will you kiss me now?" she added.

That brought a smile to his face. "That depends, will you allow me into your cabin?"

She fought to keep her expression calm. "There is only one bunk left. Top bunk. Though I'm not sure your hulking form will fit in it."

"I am sure I'll make do." With that, he leaned down and captured her lips, moving over them with a hunger she'd missed. When he pulled away, she was left breathless. Never mind that they were in broad daylight. Never mind that half the crew was gaping at them. "Ignore them," he said, as if reading her mind. So she did, taking his hand and leading him below deck. 

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Hello again, Bookdragons!

This was a LONG chapter. Some 5000 words-ish. I had a BLAST writing it. Desaree has always been an interesting character for me. And she's definitely grown a lot over the last four books, evidenced by her behavior here. I like to think her friendship with Claire has a lot to do with that. Don't you?

Well, there are only six chapters left in this book. One of which, I still have yet to write, which is Claire's final chapter. I'm dragging my feet because I want it to be good, and I'm nervous about writing it. Ah, well. I can't put it off forever.

Next chapter, which might end up being another bonus in a few days, is titled "Parting Ways" and it's from Claire's POV. See you then!

-Mel