He hoped. After everything the two had gone through together, it was hard to believe how little Akila trusted him now. He’d thought the other man would have seen Thanos’s escape from Delos as proof of his commitment, but it hadn’t worked out like that. Thanos had gone seeking allies; instead, he was alone, or nearly alone.
“So why did you follow me?” Thanos asked again. “You could have stayed there. You could have set off alone in your ship. You could have gone anywhere, but you chose to come with me.”
Felene flashed him a smile. “Does the mighty prince think I’m smitten with him? Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you aren’t my type.”
Thanos wanted to say that he hadn’t given it a thought, but he had wondered where this might be heading, given Felene’s eagerness to go with him. He had to admit it stung his pride a little too, to be put down so quickly.
“If not that, then what?” Thanos asked, and something must have come through in his tone, because he saw Felene smirk.
“Well, there’s the part where I owe you a debt,” Felene said, “and I pay my debts. Any debts that aren’t to wine merchants or tailors, anyway. And besides, how would I fit in with a well-organized band like that?”
“You’re saying I’m disorganized?” Thanos asked.
“I’m saying that it looks as though there are going to be a lot more opportunities for fun and adventure around you than sitting on an island trying to root out some limpet of a general.”
Was that really all it took to get the former prisoner to follow him?
“But we’ll both be a lot less embarrassed if you don’t bring the romance thing up again,” Felene suggested. “As I say, you’re not my type. And you’re a married man.”
Stephania. Just the thought of her name made Thanos tense, caught between what he’d done and all the things he could have done instead. He could have taken her with him. He could have seen her executed for what she tried to do to him. He could have protected her from Lucious.
He could have, at least, tried to protect his unborn child.
“That’s complicated,” Thanos said.
“Well, maybe you can take some time to think about it while you get the rest of the sails up?” Felene said, pointing. “We need to get moving, because we have visitors.”
Thanos looked in the direction she indicated, and saw a dot that was slowly resolving itself into a ship.
“They’ve seen us?” Thanos asked.
“They’re coming straight forward, so I doubt it’s chance,” Felene replied.
“Pirates?” he asked.
“More likely imperials cordoning the island. Not people we want to meet in either case.” Felene gestured to the ropes. “Don’t just stand there, start hauling.”
She gave the command as casually as if Thanos were a common sailor.
“Can we outrun them?” Thanos asked.
“Outrun what looks like a galley with two large sails and three banks of oars?” Felene said. “Not a chance. But we can go places they can’t. Hold on.”
Thanos gripped the boat’s rail as she jerked the tiller, then barely ducked in time as the sail jibbed round. The open sea gave way to the sight of land as the boat came to point at the small islands nearby.
“We’re going between them?” Thanos asked.
“If you can’t run from things, and you can’t fight them, might as well try something crazy,” Felene said.
“So this is crazy?” Thanos asked. “That’s not reassuring, Felene.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,” she replied. “I can go shallower and closer to shore than that monstrosity can. Well, probably. And if not, I’ll get to yell land ahoy earlier than we thought. Oh, relax. This is a long way from the craziest thing I’ve done.”
That wasn’t particularly reassuring either, but there really didn’t seem to be any better options. Their small craft skimmed in close to the islands scattered ahead like crumbs from some giant’s table, skipping across the waves while Thanos did his best to hold on.
“That rope, haul when I say!” Felene called. “Not before!”
Thanos readied himself, getting a grip and setting his feet into place against the deck. Behind them, the galley was gaining. There was no chance of outrunning them, but the small boat skimmed into a space between sharp-edged rocks, and Thanos saw Felene pulling at the tiller.
“Now!” she called, and Thanos could hear the urgency there.
Thanos pulled on the rope with all the strength he could muster. The roughness of it burned at his hands, but he ignored the pain and kept pulling. He saw the sail furl briefly, the lack of wind momentarily stilling their onward rush. In that stillness, Thanos felt the boat jerk around, navigating a seemingly impossible route between the rocks.
“Don’t just stand there staring,” Felene yelled. “We’re only just getting started. That side, we’ll need the ballast. And get that sail up again. We don’t want to be in bowshot when they get close.”
Thanos threw himself to the other side of the boat, countering the suddenness of the next turn. There was something pure, something clean about simply acting, about not having to think about what came next when he could just react.
“You know my father abandoned us when I was just a girl?” Felene yelled as she pulled the boat into a space so tight Thanos could have reached out to touch the roughness of the rock wall nearest his side.
“Is this really the moment?” Thanos countered.
“Some things are important!” Felene yelled back. “Looking back, it’s pretty obvious he was a wastrel drunk, but when you’re a child you don’t see it. He walked out one day, and I never knew why. I thought it was all my fault. Quick, head down. We’re jibbing again.”
Thanos ducked as the mast came across, close enough that he thought he could feel it as he passed. This was not how he’d expected having this conversation.
“So this is what turned you to a life of crime?” Thanos guessed as they came out into what looked like clear water.
“What?” the former prisoner said with a frown. “No! I did that because it was fun! That wasn’t my point.”
“What was your point then?” Thanos demanded.
Felene looked as though she was going to answer, but the galley chose that moment to round the small islands that they’d darted between. Thanos held his breath as he saw a catapult on the front of the galley, a flaming bundle sitting there ready to throw. If that so much as grazed their boat, it would quickly sink. For the first time in this chase, Thanos finally had enough time to feel fear.
“Through there,” Thanos said, pointing to another collection of small islands. The gaps there were wider, but maybe that could be a good thing.
Felene nodded, obviously understand. Thanos felt the boat surge ahead under her guidance.
“So, my point,” she said, as if this were all as normal as wandering along a street. “I guess it’s that there are things you don’t do. I’d have thought you’d know all about them, being a noble.”
“You haven’t met the same nobles I have,” Thanos said.
Behind them, he saw the galley fire. The flaming cargo arced through the air, and for a moment it seemed as though the world held still. Thankfully, their small boat didn’t, jinking to the side while the missile sent up a spray of steam as it hit the water.
“I’ve met a few of them. Simpering girls, all pretty enough in their way, but hardly fun when they think the world revolves around them. Young men who think they get whatever they want, and there are no consequences.”
Thanos tensed as they dove into the new hiding space, their boat slipping into a lagoon ringed by sharp boulders.
“I’d have thought you’d have been right alongside that,” Thanos said.
Felene didn’t answer at first, but instead looked back. Thanos looked with her as the galley tried to close on them. The wider space of the lagoon had obviously convinced its captain that they could chase the small boat in there, yet the rocks beneath the water made
that far too treacherous.
The galley dove in after them, but those rocks caught on it like teeth, ripping into it from underneath. Thanos heard the screech of stone on wood as the rocks started to rip their pursuers’ ship apart. He saw it tilt unnaturally to one side, the oars backpedaling.
He stood there, watching the damage, watching men running about on the deck, trying to recover from what had just happened. Even as he watched, he knew that they wouldn’t. The best that they could hope for now was to make it to the nearest island.
He knew that these would be more deaths on his conscience if they didn’t make it. More to add to the tally that had started with Haylon, if not before.
“There are always consequences,” Felene said, as she twitched the tiller to send their boat through another gap. “You always end up paying them, even if it’s only to yourself. Debts, remember?”
Thanos wasn’t sure that he should be taking advice from a self-confessed criminal. He definitely wasn’t sure if the middle of a chase like that had been the right time to discuss it. There was only one problem:
Felene had a point.
He had a wife waiting for him back in Delos. A wife he had abandoned when she was carrying his child. Yes, what she had done to him was unforgivable, but his own actions had been those of a coward. He’d chosen not to take her with him. He’d chosen to abandon her with Lucious. He’d let his anger and his disgust get the better of him. He’d abandoned his wife to chase the dream of Ceres.
“From that expression,” Felene said, “I guess we’re heading back to Delos after all?”
Thanos nodded. “I owe Stephania more than this. Maybe… maybe things can never be as they were, but I can make something work.”
“There is the minor problem of you being declared a traitor,” Felene pointed out. “Also me being wanted in connection with… well, lots of things. But mostly the traitor thing.”
“I’ll find a way,” Thanos said. “Maybe I can get Stephania out of there.”
“I get to travel with a prince and a beautiful princess?” Felene said. “How is she at hauling on ropes?”
“She would hate every minute of it,” Thanos replied, and as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t work like that. Stephania was someone who needed comfort and protection. Yes, she had harder edges to her than Thanos had thought, but they couldn’t bring up their child unless they could find somewhere safe to run to.
“Well,” Felene suggested, “maybe things have died down. That happens with you nobles. I knew this duchess once, out of one of the principalities beyond the Spine. Exiled from her homeland for some plot or other, hired me to harass its ports. Then everything shifted, some relative died or something, she was coming home to a hero’s welcome, and I had to ship out quick.”
Thanos shook his head. “I don’t think it will be that simple.”
There were too many things going on in the Empire for that, and given who his father was, Lucious wouldn’t let this go.
“But we’re still going back?” Felene said. “Because you’re making this sound like a worse plan by the moment.”
Thanos paused. He knew Felene was right. He couldn’t just wander back into Delos without a plan and expect everything to turn out all right. Felene had said more than that though.
“I have to do this,” Thanos said. “And like you said, sometimes crazy is what you need.”
“Going back is dangerous,” Felene said. “Crazy is… you’re not just going back, are you?”
Thanos shook his head. “It’s gone beyond that. If I can get Stephania out easily, I will, but they’ll have her watched now. So I’ll probably have to do things another way.”
“What other way?” Felene asked.
“I’ll go to the king,” Thanos said. “And offer my submission. If he won’t accept that, then I’ll offer my life for hers. As you said, there are things you don’t do, and leaving her behind is one of them.”
He felt better for saying it. Now the words were out, it felt real somehow. Definite.
“Not going to try to talk me out of it?” Thanos asked.
He saw Felene shrug.
“The way I see it, the worst-case scenario is that I get to run off with a princess and try to convince her of the joys of the pirate life.” She grinned wide. “Besides, I always did love a crazy plan.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
King Claudius sat alone, contemplating life. Contemplating death. It was strange how, the older he got, the more those two seemed to be bound up with one another. He sat in his private chambers, his sword bare across his knees, the way it had been when Thanos had come to him. Thinking back on what he’d done to his son then, it was hard to feel anything but shame.
Lord West would be long dead by now. That thought brought the dull ache of sadness with it, because he had been a good man, an honorable one. King Claudius had always seen West as everything a nobleman could hope to live up to. What did that say about him?
He’d been thinking about that for a long time now, sitting in his room, the faces of his ancestors looking back in sculpted stone from their niches.
“Did you ever feel like this?” he wondered aloud. “Did you ever look back on the things you did and realize that you had done more harm than good?”
He couldn’t imagine it. Just think of the names of his ancestors. Cleus Ironfist, who crushed the forest lands of the eastern Empire, leaving enemies hanging from every tree, and tearing up so much that farmers grazed their herds there now. Barathon the Bloody, who fought thirty duels himself against those who would challenge him, losing only the last, to the one son he hadn’t killed.
“And what will they say about me?” Claudius asked himself. That he was the worst of the lot, perhaps. That in his blood-soaked reign, the Empire tore itself apart so thoroughly it was never the same again. That there was never another ruler as cruel or dishonorable.
Except that wasn’t true, was it?
“There is still my son to come,” Claudius said to the ghosts of his ancestors. He would make all of them look like nothing.
He stood at the sound of the door opening, and saw the servant who entered shrink back in fear at the sight of him. Perhaps it was the sword, but Claudius doubted it was just that. Even without it, how many times had he seen servants and slaves cringe away? How many times had he summoned serving girls to him, only to feel their fear?
“What is it?” Claudius asked.
“F-forgive me, your majesty, I know you didn’t want to be disturbed… it’s just—”
“Out with it, man,” Claudius snapped on instinct, and the servant actually shrank back against the wall, not saying anything.
Claudius could guess what he’d been doing there, though. He’d been the poor, unfortunate fool low enough down the ladder to be ordered into his chambers even after he’d said no one should come in.
Someone had sent him in to check that the king was still breathing and well. Possibly his wife, or his son, although in truth it was more likely to be one of his guards. Athena and Lucious were both perfectly happy getting on with their own endeavors without him there. Possibly too happy, given what some of those efforts amounted to.
Just the sight of the servant there was enough to tell Claudius what he needed to do. What he should have done years ago.
“Fetch water and a basin,” he ordered the man. “Have robes brought, too.”
“The gold, your majesty?”
King Claudius shook his head. “Mourning black. No jewels beyond a simple circlet. After all the death, this is not a time for gaudiness. And tell my chamberlain to announce that I will be speaking from my balcony at noon. The people are to be allowed into the streets to listen. The guards are not to strike at them. And bring paper. This needs to be said right.”
“Yes, your majesty,” the servant said, hurrying away to put the instructions into practice.
King Claudius prepared himself carefully, observing himself in a mirror for what was probably the first time in days, really
looking at himself for what seemed to be the first time in forever.
The man he saw wasn’t the man he’d hoped to see when he was younger. Not that his younger self had ever conceived of the possibility of really becoming old. If he had thought about it, Claudius suspected that he’d envisioned himself as some broad shouldered behemoth of a man, no more than a few gray hairs flecking his beard, as strong as ever and universally loved.
Time showed the truth of these things like nothing else.
Claudius did his best with the clothes he had, summoning a barber to trim his beard back to neatness, trying to blink some of the dark rings from around his eyes. He picked out somber, elegant clothes from those offered to him, and smiled as he realized that he was wearing the sort of thing Lord West usually favored. Perhaps that was appropriate, today, so soon after his old friend’s death.
He made other preparations too, writing down his thoughts, trying to get them in order. Ultimately, though, he knew what he needed to say, and to do.
“Your majesty,” the servant who’d been brave enough to enter the room said. “It is approaching noon.”
Claudius looked out of his windows, and sure enough, the sun was high in the sky. It was time. He just hoped as he stepped out onto his balcony that his people had come out to hear him speak.
They had. Claudius felt a moment of apprehension as he saw the sea of people there. Normally the sight of so many peasants would have brought real fear with it at the prospect of riot, rebellion, or worse. He certainly wouldn’t have felt any sense of connection to them or concern for them.
Now, though, he could see how thin and haggard some of them were. He could see children who looked as though they hadn’t eaten in days, and for once, he didn’t feel the urge to blame their parents’ indolence. They hadn’t caused this.
“My people,” King Claudius said, and for once, he felt it. “The months gone past have been hard ones for you. I know this. The conflict against the rebellion has cost you a lot.”
Once, he would have left it there, but he thought of all the things he’d ordered done, and the leniency he’d shown to Lucious over his actions. He saw them staring up silently, expecting another tax, another round of conscriptions, and he kept going.