The Emerald Sea

  “I was uneasy when Orla advocated for you to speak for us,” Padrig said, once he’d taken in my advice. “I still am. You’re very young. But I think you might be a little wise. If we all get killed, it probably isn’t going to be because of you.”

  Orla, overhearing as she passed, remarked, “Wow, Tamsin. He really thinks well of you.”

  * * *

  We reached Cape Triumph in just under four days, thanks in no small part to riding almost nonstop the night before our arrival. We were all tired and sore, but that fatigue evaporated as we rode up to the city’s gates during late morning. Tension electrified us all, and those who’d been slumping or yawning now sat up straight, weapons held tightly and eyes fixed ahead.

  We came in through the city’s second biggest entrance. The other was guarded by the fort, and even if most of the army was gone, caution seemed best. We met no armed resistance. In fact, we didn’t meet much of anything. The gate was surprisingly deserted, and that gave us pause, more than a fighting force might have.

  “We did beat the other clans . . . didn’t we?” I asked. A horrific image of all the city’s citizens imprisoned and subdued by Icori invaders flashed before me.

  Padrig scrutinized the entrance with wary eyes. “Yes. If the city was occupied, we’d know.”

  Just then, a man pulling a cart passed by the gate. When he noticed our retinue, his eyes bugged out. He dropped the cart and ran off screaming.

  “That’s more what I was expecting,” I muttered.

  Similar reactions greeted us from the handful of people we encountered as we marched farther into the city, and I tried to put myself in their shoes, imagining what it would be like to see almost fifty Icori entering unceremoniously. I’d probably be running and screaming too. A few of our number had stayed outside the gates, including our bound Lorandian prisoner. He was going to be vital in our dealings with Governor Doyle, who might very well have an easier time accepting a truce with the Icori than an accusation of his son’s treason.

  There were still fewer people out than I expected, and I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Even without a full military on hand, shouldn’t someone have challenged us?

  A scout who’d gone ahead when we entered the city came racing back to Padrig. “There’s a huge assembly of people up ahead, over to the east.”

  Padrig tensed, and the other warriors pulled out their weapons. “Militia?”

  The scout shook her head, dumbfounded. “No, they’re not there for us . . . I’m not really sure what’s going on. But I gathered the governor is there.”

  Padrig glanced back at me, and I shrugged. “I have no idea what’s happening. Be cautious. Be smart.”

  We continued our stately pace in, and I tried to control my breathing. My sweaty hands slipped on the reins. I was afraid I’d get so overanxious I’d faint, fall off, and wake up to a war.

  It didn’t take long to reach the assembly, which I promptly recognized, even if the Icori didn’t. A hanging. A gallows was set up in front of the courthouse, and a huge crowd had gathered around it—a crowd that started to panic and break up as we trotted forward. I searched for the governor and found him standing on the gallows, watching our approach with shock. But he couldn’t have been more shocked than I was to see who else was on the platform: Adelaide, Cedric, and Warren. Cedric’s hands were bound behind his back, and a noose hung nearby. A man I didn’t know climbed up beside them, and the governor began shouting for the militia, but it was hard to say if anyone heard over the frantic onlookers.

  “Cedric, no,” I murmured, going cold all over. What was happening? How was this possible? One of the Kerniall Icori gave me a quizzical look, and I pointed at the gallows. “My friends are up there. They’re going to kill one of them!”

  Her confusion only seemed to grow, and I couldn’t blame her. The talk here had all focused on behaving carefully around the Osfridians, in order to prevent violence, and here we were walking right in on them trying to commit violence among themselves. The only bright spot was that our arrival had distracted everyone from the hanging. Cedric was still alive. Adelaide seemed unharmed. How were they even back in Denham? And where was Mira?

  Focus, Tamsin. I couldn’t worry about them yet. We’d come here to speak to the town’s leaders face to face, and now, bizarrely, we’d managed it. I had to make sure things proceeded the way we’d planned. This was the part where I needed to put myself forward as our spokesperson.

  The Icori riders stopped in front of the gallows, taking the place of the dissipated crowd. As I started to edge Pebble ahead in our group, Padrig, his voice booming over the din, suddenly said: “Where is the governor?”

  I turned to him with a start, hoping to catch his eye. That bold demand wasn’t in the delicate pleasantries we’d gone over! Some of the crowd’s anxious chatter quieted. Beyond the courthouse, I spied a few men who weren’t fleeing. They were coming this way, steps cautious, and carried guns.

  “Where is the governor?” Padrig asked again. I urged Pebble toward him, weaving through the other riders.

  Governor Doyle stepped to the center of the platform, visibly unnerved. “I am the governor. You have no business here. Get out before my army beats yours to the ground.”

  Padrig had the courtesy to let the bluff slide. “We do have business. We’ve come seeking justice—your help in righting a wrong done to us.”

  “You’ve had no wrongs done to you,” the governor shot back, mustering a bit of steel. “We’ve all agreed to the treaties. We’ve all obeyed them. You have your land, we have ours.”

  “Soldiers are moving into our land and attacking our villages—soldiers from the place you call Lorandy. And your own people are aiding them and letting them cross your territories.”

  “Impossible!” spat Governor Doyle. “Lorandians moving into your lands means they would flank ours. No man among us would allow such a thing.”

  Now it was my turn. I finally reached Padrig’s side.

  “Your own son would,” I called, surprised at how clearly my voice rang out.

  Almost all the colonists who hadn’t fled mistook me for Icori. But I saw Adelaide’s eyes widen when she spotted me, and recognition flashed over the governor’s face too. I focused back on him and continued, “Your son and other traitors are working with the Lorandians to stir up discord and draw Osfrid’s army out of the central colonies—so that Hadisen and others can rebel against the Crown.”

  “It’s a lie, Father!”

  Warren had recognized me too. He stepped forward, a gun in his hand and face snarled with anger. Swallowing, I forced myself to meet his outrage with coolness.

  Warren looked over at his father. “There’s no telling what these savages have brainwashed this girl into believing.” The scorn in his voice, the derision . . . it reminded me startlingly of how so many people had put me down throughout my life. “What proof does she have for this absurdity?”

  “The proof of being thrown off a boat in the middle of a storm when I discovered your plans,” I called back.

  “Lies,” Warren insisted, though he looked more panicked than skeptical. “This girl is delusional!”

  The Icori near me shifted the hold on their weapons. The set of Padrig’s jaw was tight. He didn’t think this was going to end well.

  “She’s telling the truth.”

  I jerked my gaze back as the next player in this unfolding drama took the stage. Grant Elliott, the brusque shopkeeper, had climbed onto the gallows between Warren and Governor Doyle.

  “Who is that?” Orla hissed from behind me.

  “He sells survival gear,” I whispered back.

  “There are stacks of correspondence,” Grant added. “Witnesses who’ll testify.”

  “Elliott? What the hell are you talking about?” Warren demanded.

  I wondered that too, but if Grant could support
my claims, I’d take it.

  “I think you know,” said Grant. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “About Courtemanche. About the heretic couriers.”

  That part lost me—but it made Warren lose control. Panic and desperation seized hold of him. He raised his gun, and Adelaide sprang forward into Grant, knocking him aside just as Warren fired. The bullet missed Grant, but Warren had another shot lined up—this time with Adelaide in front of the barrel. A scream lodged in my throat, but rather than a gunshot, I heard a noise that sounded like thwack. A heartbeat later, Warren fell backward, with what I thought might be an arrow sticking out of his leg. Grant dove in quickly, restraining Warren through screams of pain.

  “Six,” I muttered, watching the spectacle unfold. But Adelaide and Cedric were okay now, so something was going right. Both looked bewildered and were scanning the crowd, finally fixing their sights on something behind me and the other riders. I turned in my saddle, trying to figure it out.

  Moments later, I saw her. She stood on top of a wagon, holding a crossbow, her expression as fierce as an eagle coming in for its prey.

  “Who is that, Tamsin?” Orla asked, noticing where I looked.

  I smiled and hoped I didn’t start crying. “That’s Mira. One of my best friends.”

  “This isn’t going how I expected,” said Padrig. The understatement was even funnier because he wasn’t trying to be funny. Jago would have loved it.

  Gazing around at the chaos and outright weirdness, I took a deep breath and was surprised I didn’t feel more anxiety about the unexpected turn of events. Maybe it was because everything that happened to me in Adoria was unexpected, and I’d learned to adapt to it. Maybe that was my strength, more than arbitrating with people.

  “Well,” I told Padrig, “we were hoping to get a face-to-face meeting with the governor. Looks like we got it.”

  CHAPTER 39

  “WHY SHOULD WE HAVE TO DO ALL THE WORK TO CLEAR your land?”

  “Because it’s your fault this happened!”

  “As if we’d sanction attacking our own people! Don’t blame us for the crimes of traitors acting for their own reprehensible reasons.”

  “Like your son?”

  I jumped to my feet, resting my hands on the table and leaning forward. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Let’s not get sidetracked from our topic. What’s important is making sure there are no more Lorandians or rebels lurking on the border.”

  “How are we getting sidetracked?” demanded Padrig. “His son is one of those lurking rebels.”

  In navigating my way through the rougher places of Adoria, as well as in the formal ballrooms of Cape Triumph, I’d become something of an expert at maintaining a smiling face when conversation took a turn into boring or appalling territory. In the last two weeks, however, even my skills had been pushed to their limits.

  That’s how long I’d been helping colonial and Icori leaders work out a truce. Technically, the truce part was done, in the sense that neither side was going to war. But matters in Adoria had escalated to such an extent in the wake of the conspirators’ meddling that more now needed to be settled than simply not killing each other.

  To my left, Governor Doyle’s face was reddening, growing dangerously close to purple. I turned to my right, meeting Padrig square in the eye. “Governor Doyle’s son is in custody, about to sail back to Osfrid and be punished for his crimes—crimes that the governor had no knowledge of and which have gone against all of his principles. And it’s a sign of just how strong those principles are that he’s with us right now to reach an accord.” Angling back to look at everyone gathered at the table, I said, “We’ve all suffered. Dwelling on the past won’t improve that.”

  Padrig took the hint and nodded gravely toward Governor Doyle. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “Your son’s actions are not yours.” Then, even more haltingly: “This . . . must . . . be very difficult for you.”

  Governor Doyle cleared his throat and looked away. “Yes, well. No need for hand-holding. I’ll manage. This has been difficult for all of us.”

  In most other contexts, that exchange would have been described as awkward at best. In this context, however, it was one of the more personable ones I’d witnessed.

  “Which is why we all have to work together,” I concluded smoothly. Giving each man a smile, I settled back into my chair at the head of the table. “Now, I think in going forward with rooting out rebels, we shouldn’t be thinking about whose responsibility it is, but rather who can accomplish the most. From what we’ve heard, the holdouts are hiding on the Icori side of the border. Dann Padrig, Danna Orla . . . your people know that land best. But, Governor, the Lorandians have impersonated Osfridians before, so someone should also be there who can determine friend from foe . . .”

  On it went. Another day, another set of meetings. Honestly, though, they were tame compared to the drama of my arrival with the Icori. The stories that came out after the courthouse spectacle were equally astonishing, all seeming to want to outdo each other in outrageousness.

  Warren had apparently told everybody I’d run off when we were about to board the boat to Hadisen. He’d claimed the storm had spooked me with its memories of the Gray Gull and that, despite the valiant efforts of him and his men, I’d been lost in the chaos of the tempest, though it hadn’t even begun when we departed. Cape Triumph organized a search party the next day, but it turned up nothing— because they were looking where Warren had told them I’d disappeared, not at the other end of the bay. Warren had paid my contract fee as a sign of his “sorrow,” and my friends had had to experience my death all over again.

  I wasn’t the only one Warren had attempted to murder. It turned out he hadn’t been so forgiving about Adelaide’s spurning, and he’d subsequently tried to kill Cedric in Hadisen. Cedric had survived, only to have Warren’s machinations get him arrested and sentenced to execution. Even now, I shuddered thinking about how close Cedric had come to death that day. If the Icori hadn’t moved as fast as they had...if they hadn’t thrown Cape Triumph into disarray . . .

  * * *

  “That was some nice work you did in there. You’ve got the patience of an angel.”

  I smiled at Lieutenant Harper as we walked out of the meeting hall later in the afternoon, freed of another day of negotiations. “I think that’s where the resemblance ends,” I told him. “And if this goes on much longer, you might find yourself reconsidering your words.”

  We stepped into the late afternoon sunshine, and I waved a farewell as Padrig, Orla, and the other Icori went their own way, heading to their camps outside the city limits. They’d be back again in the morning, and I knew they were restless to end this too.

  “It won’t go on much longer,” Harper said, putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the light. “We’ve made good progress. And everyone’s so tired, they’ll agree with anything now.”

  “That’s not really a testament to my skills.” I stepped to the side of a bustling street and crossed my arms. “You haven’t heard anything from Jago, have you?”

  “No. I swear, the instant I do, I’ll tell you. But I think he’ll be here first. He said it wouldn’t take long, and I know he wants to get back to you.”

  “Well, he’s sure taking his bloody time,” I muttered.

  Lieutenant Harper and his men had arrived in the city a few days after I had. The southern Icori clans had shown up around the same time, and there’d been a bit of scrambling to reassure everyone that the other side hadn’t called for backup as part of some ulterior motive. I’d been thrilled—once animosities were smoothed away—because I’d assumed Jago had come with the army. But instead, I’d been told he’d lingered in Archerwood on “business” that no one knew anything about.

  The lieutenant grinned. “I’m sure his reasons are good. Jago Robinson doesn’t miss an opportunity. You’re proof of that.”

  I rolled my e
yes. “Oh, stop trying to cover for him with your flattery. Go put on a dress uniform so Damaris can show you off.”

  The mention of his new fiancée sobered Harper right up. Tonight would be their first outing since becoming engaged this week. “You’re right,” he said, backing away. “And I’ve still got to file a report at the fort. I’ll be in a lot of trouble if I miss this.”

  “You and me both,” I said with a smile.

  Adelaide made a beautiful bride. She was always beautiful, of course, but that night, it wasn’t the glittering white-and-silver gown she wore, or even those perfect curls, that entranced us all as she exchanged vows with Cedric. She glowed from within, made radiant by the love she’d held fast to and was now finally able to celebrate.

  When the ceremony ended, the two of them mingled with their well-wishers, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. Watching from where I’d stood as a bridesmaid, I gave a wistful sigh before I could stop myself. Mira, beside me, glanced over in amusement.

  “Now, now, don’t be sad. I know you wanted her to do better than a student, but I’m sure they’ll make it work.”

  I nudged her with my petite bouquet. “Stop. You know that’s not what I’m thinking. I’m happy for them, truly. It’s about time something good happened to us.”

  Mira slipped her arm around me and steered us forward to join the others. “You’ve come back from the dead twice. That’s pretty good as far as I’m concerned.” Her jovial voice grew more serious. “And whoever you’re waiting for, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  “What makes you think I’m waiting for someone?” I asked quickly.

  “Because no matter what you’re doing lately, you’re always looking around for something—someone—else,” she laughed. “And you’re blushing now.”

  “I certainly am not, Mira Viana. I’ve just been out in the sun a lot. That’s what comes of having a delicate porcelain complexion like mine.”