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Chapter 14: Declan


Candles flickered in the library as Declan turned another page, making a note in the weighty tome's margins. He had spent all day among these leather-bound spines and yet found not another clue to the reason why Nadia would heal in moments from a cut that looked as though it should have taken weeks to even form a scar. Why a cursed priestess would have the powers of a sorceress. And what it was that tugged at his gut whenever she was near, like a rope tied around his ribcage and connected him to her. There was something to be said for academic work. At least it got his mind off of Olivia's death.

"Studying again? You should have been born a scholar, not a prince," Mark commented as he appeared from behind his armchair. The boy really had far too much nerve and far too little common sense for someone of his size. He quickly realized his mistake and stuttered out an honorary. "Er, Your Highness."

Declan slammed shut the book he had been poring over--a detailed inventory of curses and curse magic--as he turned to face the blond. "What is it that you want, Mark?"

"Your Highness, the captain has asked me to see him in his quarters," Mark stammered out, staring down at his scuffed boots.

"The captain should have better sense than to summon a prince to see him, but I suppose intelligence is in short supply around here." Declan put the book into his satchel. "Very well, then. Lead the way."

He stomped after Mark, walking so quickly and taking such long strides that the boy had to hurry in order to be in front of him. Good. Someone needed to keep the younger guards on their toes, or they would become far too complacent for his liking. As they hurried through the halls up to the deck before finally reaching the Captain's study, he caught the whiff of sea air. Declan had always been indifferent to the ocean. For him, it was just another method of travel. It was simply another vast swathe of undiscovered, unexplored, and uncharted territory. Interesting, but not particularly compelling. But it wasn't until he had spent time on a ship for long lengths of time that he realized how wrong he had been.

Massive storms could easily gather and form on the water and pummel ships like this without so much as a second thought. Out on the water, they were vulnerable, like a woodland creature out in the open, available to any predators who wanted to pick them off. Enormous waves could dwarf this vessel, making its manmade hull and the sailors on it look like tiny ants compared to the monstrosities lurking in the deep. No, the ocean was not something to be taken lightly. Not anymore.

They reached the Captain's office, and Mark gave a timid knock on the door. Resisting a sigh, Declan rapped loudly, then heard footsteps and shuffling as the captain got up from his chair to greet them. He opened the door, his scraggly grey beard--his face was usually clean-shaven-- making him appear worn-out from a long day at sea. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes had hollows beneath them, complete with dark circles to cement his image of a tired, grandfatherly sort of sea captain. Still, no one could mistake the authority in his tone or the steel-straight spine even after a day's work.

"How might I assist you, Captain?" Declan asked after Mark had been dismissed. He stepped into the Captain's office after being invited in.

"Please, take a seat before we discuss business. Can I offer you a hot beverage or the like?" The captain gestured toward a teapot that had been haphazardly placed next to a stack of papers and a brown journal--likely his captain's log. It seemed rather dangerous to leave a container of boiling hot liquid next to so much flammable and fragile material especially while on a moving ship, but Declan figured that the man knew what he was doing. "I have tea, coffee, some whiskey..."

"Tea will be fine, thank you," he said, simply to keep the man from listing more beverages. "Captain, what news do you have for me?"

"Actually, I had some questions for you, Your Highness," the man replied, pouring the tea from its ceramic pot into two matching cups. They were of a simple design, without handles or any decorations. "Tell me about the priestess. What's her name--Natalia?"

Declan could read people well enough that he knew the captain was feigning nonchalance by pretending not to know Nadia's name. If he wanted to play this game of deceit, well, the sailor would certainly lose. "Nadia, I believe. What is it that you wish to know about her? I must confess to not knowing the girl too well, myself, but I shall endeavour to assist you as best as I can."

"Thank you, Prince Declan. Your help is most valuable to me and much appreciated." The captain took a sip of the steaming tea without even scorching his tongue or spilling a droplet on his beard. If he weren't too busy being suspicious, Declan would have been impressed. "Now, start from the beginning. Where did you meet her?"

"We met at the temple when I..." How should he describe his quest to Milona? A ransacking? Destruction? Pillaging? None of those words aligned with his true purpose. "Actually, allow me to correct myself. We first met on the beach. We chatted a bit, I asked her for directions to the temple and she guided me there."

"What did the two of you talk about on the beach?" The captain asked, not bothering to hide the curiosity that gleamed in his grey eyes. This man was hungry for something and Declan felt as though he were faced with a starving wolf, having to decide between throwing scraps at it or fleeing from the predator entirely. "Anything of import, Your Highness?"

Declan sipped his tea. It was bitter and dark dregs of leaves sank to the bottom of the cup when he set it back down. "Nothing interesting, really."

That was the truth. Declan could barely remember what he had said to her on that day, with the roar of the surf nearly drowning out their voices. He had voiced a few premonitions that he had seen the night before in his dream: a girl with green eyes, veiled from head to toe, fleeing from him, her expression terrified yet defiant. Declan had honestly believed he would never see her again. Yet he had been in almost a dreamlike, fugue state in that very moment, unable to fully control the words that came streaming forth from his lips.

"Really?" The captain raised a salt and pepper brow. "Nothing? How about the second time you met?"

Why did the man care so much about Nadia? It was almost irritating, almost endearing. Like watching a puppy chase a butterfly. But that butterfly was his. Turning his head to one side, Declan studied the older man. "Is Nadia Sancta a threat to you, Captain?"

"Why, I..." The captain spluttered, choking on his tea. He dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin, one embossed with the initials M. M. "I make it a priority to know as much as possible about all the guests travelling on board my ship, Prince. Is that a problem?"

"Not a problem at all. You may ask me whatever questions you wish, but I wonder why you don't pose your interrogation straight to the source: ask Nadia Sancta herself." He brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "Do you have any further questions? Perhaps you wish to know what she had for breakfast this morning? Or you want to know which dress she was wearing when we met?"

"Do not play such childish games with me, Your Highness." No one had ever spat his honorary at him with such vehemence before. He had to admit, it was a refreshing change from hearing it from the honeyed tongues of sycophants. The captain stood from his seat, his face reddening as a vein pulsed in his temple. "What I need, prince, is to know if she is a threat to my men, my crew, and my ship. Because trust me, I will not hesitate to have any threats eliminated, whether they are a prince's whore or not."

Declan sat back in his chair, blinking a few times. So the captain thought that he was bedding Nadia. He could do quite a bit with that false belief. "And believe me, captain, that if she were a threat to my men and my country, I would also have her eliminated."

Though, come to think of it, she was probably fairly difficult to kill. Considering he had tried many times back in the temple to injure her, and when he thought of the impressive display of supernatural healing she had displayed last night, he did not think that he or the captain would be able to injure her, much less kill her.

"I'm glad we are on the same page, then," the Captain said slowly, his face returning to its usual colour. "I hope we can agree that if she were to ever become a danger to our men, she would be put down immediately."

Put down. As though she were a violent, dangerous animal. There was an ounce of truth to that visual, but she was still a human being.

"For now, Captain, she is mine. And I do not take kindly to others damaging what is mine." With that, he stood. "I am happy we were able to have this discussion."

"As am I." The captain stood, shaking his hand in such a firm grip that he would have broken bones if Declan hadn't been applying equal pressure. "I heard about her... accident. What a relief to know she is alright."

Just when he thought he'd won, the man simply needed to sink a blade into his back, didn't he? 

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