Page 7 of The Ocean's Heart
“Thalia, please.” She pulled away from me. “Stop! I amnotleaving you!”
I slapped her hard enough to rock her head back.
She grabbed her cheek, staring at me with bright eyes. “You hit me.” Her words were a trembling whisper.
“And the sea looters will do so much more if they get their hands on you.” Fat tears slipped down her cheeks, and I almost softened. Almost. “They will violate you. They will have their fun, and they will keep you alive long enough to collect a ransom. But you willnotsurvive it unscathed,doyou understand?”
“Mistress, listen to her,” Lissa pleaded with Bryony. “We must go.”
Emotions played across my sister’s face, anger and fear, but I knew her well enough to understand that neither was aimed at me. “Thalia, if you stay, then it could be you that they violate.”
I allowed my lips to curve in a wicked smile. “Oh, they can try. But they’ll have to answer to my sword first.”
My words seemed to calm her. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “Lissa, pull the blue gown from the trunk. It has the lightest material; it will tear easily when Thalia wishes to dispense of the skirts and fight.” She took a step toward me, her eyes burning with inner fire. “You will fight, Thalia. You will survive this, and you will find your way to Merida. Swear it.”
I spoke past the lump in my throat. “I swear it. I’ll kill them all, and I will join you.”
Her mouth attempted to tremble, but she held it stiff. “Good. Then let’s do this.”
We dressed quickly—Bryony in my clothes and I in hers.
“Your hair.” Bryony reached for the knot I’d wrangled my riotous waves into. “It will not do. A princess would not wear it thus.”
Lissa moved toward me with pins and a determined look that struck fear in my heart because there was nothing that I hated more than having my hair done. But I held still while she worked on me, quickly and efficiently, setting my locks half up and leaving the rest to fall about my shoulders.
“This way it won’t be a hindrance in battle,” Lissa explained, “but will still fool them into believing you are the princess.”
She quickly worked on my face next, applying lotion and other things that I had no use for.
When it was done, I didn’t recognize myself. Gone was the gruff warrior to be replaced by a lady of refinement. I lifted a hand to my cheek, rouged now, and then my lips stained with berry juice.
“Your hands…” Lissa examined them, calloused from wielding a weapon, nails cut short and a little dirty.
I pulled them free. “There is no time for a manicure. We must leave.”
There was a knock on the door, then Berand’s voice boomed, “It’s time, Majesty.”
Bryony did break then, tears flowing freely as she hugged me hard enough to stanch my breath. “I love you; please don’t die.”
I kissed her temple, breathing her in. “I won’t. I swear it.”
She peered up at me and attempted a smile. “Don’t you wish we were at Prince Adom’s wedding now?”
The shifter prince of Solmane was due to marry a fairy princess. It was the event of the year, and all had been invited. If not for our dire predicament, there was no doubt that Father would have ordered us to attend. I’d heard there was even a tournament in play, one that promised riches to the victors.
Yes, if our situation was different, it would have been good to attend.
Another knock sounded on the door.
I opened it and ushered Bryony toward a waiting Berand.
“Wait!” She rushed to her bedside table and grabbed something which she hurriedly passed to me. “Put it on. Then there will be no doubt.”
I turned over the broach. Not just any broach but the royal emblem for Faircaster.
Father had commission two of these, one for each of his daughters, but the queen had taken mine, claiming that only a blood heir should wear it.
I pinned it to my chest, another lump forming in my throat because how ironic that I get to wear it now, when faced with death.
