Page 3 of Sonnets and Serpents
“I’ll be careful.” With stiff movements, she forced herself to her feet, swaying on the deck.
“Careful don’t mean much against shapeshifters,” he muttered darkly.
Eliza gripped the railing. Unsure what else to say, she began the descent down to the main deck, her joints aching.
She couldn’t allow herself to think of what dangers waited in Pravusat; they didn’t matter. When Henry had failed the king’s challenge, her father had banished him, leaving Eliza with a choice.
She could stay at home, where everything was falling apart, or she could seize her one chance at happiness and love.
Eliza’s romantic whims.
Her father’s words burrowed inside her like a parasite, eating away at her confidence. In his eyes, she was nothing but a collection of frivolous impulses. Like a flitting butterfly blown by light breezes, unable to settle on a flower.
She’d sworn to prove him wrong. She’d sworn to prove her devotion to Henry. If she could choose to live in exile with him, an entire ocean away from home, without the aid or resources offered to a princess, it would mean she wasn’t all whims. It would prove she had substance, that she could be trusted, that shemeantsomething.
Whatever dangers Pravusat held, she would brave them all for Henry’s sake.
The entire ship buzzed with the call from the crow’s nest: “Land ahoy!”
Avoiding the rushing sailors, Eliza pressed herself to the gunwale along with several other curious passengers, watching the sandy stretch in the distance grow closer and clearer. Pravusat was almost ten times the size of Loegria, or so her geography tutor had told her, but unlike her homeland, it was more desert flatland than green countryside and mountains. A nervous excitement built in Eliza’s chest, and even when the other passengers retreated to gather their belongings or prepare to dock, she remained at the railing, watching the harbor grow to encompass them.
She’d brought only one bag from home, filled with as much silver as she dared carry, a spare change of clothes, a nightgown, and a hairbrush. Plus the sonnet book in her pocket. Most of what she loved at home—like her sister—couldn’t fit in a bag, so she’d been forced to leave it. Now her entire world rested on a strap on her shoulder and a hope in her heart.
Henry, I’m here.
The ship anchored, and the crew lowered a gangplank, wasting no time in unloading the boxes of woolen fabric that served as the merchant ship’s livelihood. Eliza seized the first opening to rush down onto the docks, laughing as her steps wavered drunkenly after the voyage. She chose to think of it as a dance she couldn’t help participating in.
Ahead of her, the port city of Izili stretched in a gently rising landscape, full of strange colors and architecture she never saw at home. Around her, the docks echoed with the chatter of sailors and the creak of masts and rigging swaying in the ocean’s cradle. Eliza grabbed the first dockworker she could find and asked for news ofThe Unbroken Duke, the ship Henry had sailed on.
Which was when she remembered one big problem: She was in Pravusat, and she did not speak Pravish.
As a princess, she’d received instruction in foreign government and languages, but she’d daydreamed through many of the lessons and snuck poetry books into the rest. She’d always assumed Aria was the only one whoactuallyneeded to know such things. Eliza was never going to wear a crown or meet with ambassadors. She was certainly never going to visit a country all the way across the sea.
No matter—she could ask for help.
She returned to the Loegrian crew of her own ship, searching until she found a crew member who claimed confidence in Pravish. He took her to the dockmaster and translated her request.
The dockmaster was a compact man with greedy little eyes, striding around with a logbook and a jingling purse. He recorded their ship’s arrival and took his docking fee before even gracing Eliza’s search with an acknowledgment. Then he demanded an inquiry fee for any information on docking.
“You can barter it down,” the Loegrian sailor told her. “Pravish people are all about arguing.”
Eliza didn’t have the patience for that. She shoved a few silver coins at the dockmaster, and his eyes lit up with glee. He consulted his log, quickly speaking a few words.
The Loegrian sailor’s face turned grim.
“What is it?” Eliza lifted on tiptoe, peering at a book she couldn’t read. “Has it been delayed?”
She didn’t know much about sailing, but she’d heard the palace tailor complain about the ocean’s unpredictability when a shipment of silk for the queen had been delayed an entire week. Henry should have arrived several days ago, but if he’d been delayed, she would take a room at the closest inn and wait.
The dockmaster spoke in broken Loegrian, closing his logbook with a sense of finality. “Sad, very sad. Ship sink.”
Sink.
The harbor sounds grew louder around her as she became aware of the ocean’s insistent pulse, washing in and out, slapping against the hulls of ships and the posts of the winding docks. White gulls cried out from above.
Slowly, Eliza rocked back on her heels. She looked at her translator, waiting to hear what she was clearly misunderstanding.
The sailor shook his head. “There was a shipwreck. I’m sorry. Whoever you’re looking for is gone.”
