Page 9 of Tell No Tales
He was grateful for the extra speed Milton and Niall provided as back-up wind weavers. Milton was already on deck, taking Stan's spot. Vadim chuckled. Tovey was probably waiting to have words with Niall for his tardiness.
Tovey and Stan were strong together, and their years of experience made them better candidates for the night shift. It was easier to hide Stan's weakness with air at night, too. The two tied their power together, so Tovey could draw more wind power from Stan than Stan could generate on his own. For his part, Stan had always been the stability in Tovey's life, his work life, at least.
In bed, Stan was more adventurous, where Tovey … wasn't. The younger wind weaver was much like Vadim in that respect. Vadim often wondered if Tovey had been abused in the past. Vadim had tried to get Tovey to open up by sharing his own trauma with the crew. Instead, they all had felt sorry for Vadim, while they hated Martiz more.
Vadim still despised Martiz, even after stripping his power and destroying his dagger. Martiz had swayed Vadim's own aunt against him before his father died.
Vadim's mother had been long gone by then. She'd died in childbirth. His father, a sailor on a naval ship without a healer, had passed away on the other side of the ocean when Vadim was a boy. Vadim had heard his call.
Whitecaps stirred inStarlight Specter's wake, and Vadim wondered, not for the first time, what his father's last moments had been like. His dad had been so far away, so lost and alone at the end, unsure which way was up. He'd died of fever, the official wording on his death certificate. Vadim knew that feeling of lack of oxygen too well, thanks to the number of times Martiz had waterboarded him for fun. Vadim's dad had drowned.
Vadim had done what he'd begged. He'd relieved his own dad of his mortal coil and ended his suffering. And then Aunt Elsie had hated him for it, all thanks to Martiz.
"His hair's half-white,"Martiz had noticed.
Beatrice had tried to cover for him."It's bleached from the sun."
"Not that much in so short a time. He had a full head of blond two days ago. He's killed someone. His father, perhaps."
Vadim was too young to understand Beatrice's quick shout in his head."Lie!"
"He begged me to do it!"he'd said in his own defense.
That night had been Vadim's first introduction to Martiz's stone blade. It burned more than any blade should, and it stole his balance, leeching the color from his hair even more. He'd often wondered what his life would have been like, if his aunt had cared enough to stop Martiz.
Beatrice had apologized for the council's inaction when he first returned to Aquarion as part of Efren's crew."I should have believed you sooner."
Vadim had lost an eye to that blade, and then the bastard had used his eye socket … he still remembered the sound. Gods, he'd wished he were dead. Martiz's healing burned hot that night, scalding Vadim from the inside out. He'd pulled away, leaving the scar. Vadim should have known then that he could say no, that Martiz couldn't force healing, or anything else, upon him without consent. To cover, Martiz had claimed he left the scar to remind Vadim of the incident every time he looked in the mirror.
"Is my seed growing in your brain yet?"
Vadim had spent countless sleepless nights that first year at the academy, wondering if the ache in his head was from something sinister Martiz had left there. Then, during class one day at the academy, he'd learned the story of the god born from the great goddess's head. That night, he'd had a nightmare so violent, he'd punched Hesse, giving him a black eye. The prince had laughed it off and covered for him to the rest of his guards and other students for the week it took to heal. When Vadim asked him why he didn't go to the healers, he said he wanted to wear it as a badge of honor.
"No one is allowed to touch me, let alone bruise me. You walk around with your scar, even though you could heal it yourself."
He had mended it enough to stop the headaches, but he refused to remove the scar, for fear Martiz would notice.
"I keep my scar out of spite."He'd lied, but Hesse had always appreciated his bravado.
"Mine is for love. I'll never be able to tell these idiots how much I love you, but now they can see it on my face."
"That bruise is not a sign of my love, Your Majesty."Vadim had been embarrassed by the mark. He'd not meant to hurt Hesse. Damn, by that point, he'd been so deeply in love with him …
"It's a sign of my love for you."
Hesse's smile could make the sun shine through a thunderstorm. He smiled, and Vadim knew it was true, even if Embertide, Hesse's betrothed, and the rest of the world would never understand. Vadim made Hesse happy, but he couldn't give him heirs. When Hesse graduated from the academy less than two years later, Vadim had wanted to curl into a ball of despair. When Hesse had passed away seven years later, a part of Vadim died with him.
That all changed when Empress Delilah invited him to the palace. He'd been dismissed from the navy less than six months after Hesse's death, for being a death weaver. Vadim found it ironic. The reason he'd been sought after and given a spot on one of Hesse's best ships was now the reason they wanted him to leave.
The Empress had demanded an audience to introduce Vadim to Prince Hugo. The tiny terror of seven looked, sounded, and acted just like his dad. Still, Vadim was envious of the child. Hugo could show the world how sad he was, while Vadim had to bottle his sadness inside.
"His Majesty never stopped talking about you,"Empress Delilah had said one night over wine. Hugo had cried himself to sleep hours earlier, and they'd talked long into the night.
"He loved you,"she'd continued.
"He loved you more."Vadim raised his glass to her in a mock salute and she laughed.
"He would have been content to have us both, but he said you wouldn't be keen on it."
