Only the Destined. Морган Райс

a captain willing to take them at all.

      The islands themselves seemed to be a mixture of greenery and black rock, clustered around a central lagoon with one of their number at their heart. Most of them were decorated with turf and trees and sand so dark it must have been worn down from the granite and basalt faces of the isles. The central island appeared to be a volcano, bubbling with an angry red glare, and now Royce realized that the mist around them wasn’t mist at all, but the falling smoke sinking so that it formed a kind of halo around the islands.

      The Mirror of Wisdom would be there somewhere, and if he’d gone in search of it, Royce hoped his father would be here too.

      “Land ahoy!” he called out to the others, pointing.

      The ship’s captain came up to them, smiling. “Where?”

      Through Royce’s own eyes, the islands were a series of dots that only slowly grew into more.

      “We have made it,” the captain said. He plucked a flask from his belt. “We must drink to such an occasion, and appease the spirits of the sea.”

      He held it out to Royce, who took it and sipped politely. The liquid within burned at his throat. Mark took it too, obviously looking for a way to decline, but the captain was too insistent for that. He sipped at it, coughing afterward.

      “Now that we are closer,” the captain said, “perhaps you will tell us more about why you are here. You are looking for your father, yes?”

      It took Royce a moment to realize what the other man had just said.

      “I never told you about that,” Royce said.

      “Oh, don’t be coy,” the captain said. “Did you think there wouldn’t be rumors around all of the villages? You’re Royce, the boy who overthrew the old duke. You’re looking for your father, and if you’ve had me carry you all the way to the Seven Isles, then he must be somewhere here.”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Royce said, “we’re just—”

      “Traveling players, I know,” the captain said. “Except you’re not. Do you think a little mud on your knight’s shield will disguise who he is, or get rid of the mark on your hand? You’re Royce, there’s no point denying it.”

      The man stood staring at him, and Royce found the weight of expectation bearing down on him. He suspected there was no point trying to hide who he was anymore, but even so, he wasn’t comfortable merely admitting it.

      “Why does it matter to you?” Mark asked beside him.

      “Because I want to help,” the captain said. “You said you wanted to go to the Seven Isles, but that’s a lot of ground. I could take you to any of them. Where do you want to go?”

      “I don’t know,” Royce admitted. If he knew, this would be a lot simpler.

      “There’s no need to be coy,” the captain said. “I want to help. Just tell me where your father is, and I’ll take you straight to him. Tell me where he is.”

      There was a note of hardness in the captain’s tone then that caught Royce a little off guard. Royce looked at him, trying to work out what was going on, and reached out for Ember’s senses. He pulled her back toward the ship, and looked down on it from above in a way he hadn’t since they set off; he’d been too busy looking forward for the islands ahead, or trying to reach through Ember to try to contact Lori.

      If he’d looked back toward the ship, he would have seen his friends tied in the stern, their hands behind their backs with their armor and weapons off to one side and a clutch of sailors guarding them.

      “What do you think you’re doing?” Royce said. “Release my friends at once!”

      The captain looked at him in obvious shock, as though only just realizing what Royce could do.

      “Magic!” the captain said, taking a step back.

      Royce reached for the crystal sword and staggered. Too late, he realized just how shaky and uncertain he felt on his feet. The flask! There had been something in the flask! Mark was already half-slumped against the railings.

      “We’ll take you to your friends,” the captain said, “and maybe we’ll find a way to get you to talk if we hurt them enough. The king will pay handsomely for you, but them… we can cut them as much as we need to.”

      He clapped his hands, and a couple of sailors came forward, grabbing Mark and Royce, dragging them back toward the stern of the ship.

      “Why do this?” Royce demanded, the words seeming to come through a fog as thick as the one around the approaching Seven Isles.

      “Why do anything?” the captain said with a shrug. “Money! I could take you all the way to the Seven Isles, risking my ship on the rocks there, or I could take your money and then make whatever the reward is as well for bringing you to King Carris.”

      “Help me, and I’ll find a way to reward you just as well,” Royce managed. It was desperate sounding even to his ears.

      The captain laughed. “With what? You’ve no coin. Or are you planning to be king yourself? There’s no profit in starting a war, boy. I do comfortably enough as it is, taking a few people where they need to go, selling a few where there’s coin for them, robbing the odd ship that’s out alone. I do very nicely with things as they are.”

      Royce wanted to strike out at the man, but sailors had him by the wrists now, and the lethargy spreading through him made it hard to fight back against them.

      “Oh, you want to fight?” the captain asked. “Trust me, after the effort you’ve put me to, I wouldn’t. All this way… I only took you this far because I thought there was a chance of delivering the old king as well as you. I’m not breaking my ship on those rocks, though.”

      A thought came to Royce; a desperate, dangerous thought.

      “You’ll never find my father unless you’re willing to go there,” he said.

      “So you’ll tell us where he is?” the captain asked.

      “I…” Royce pretended broken exhaustion. “I can show you.”

      The captain rubbed his hands together, nodding to the sailors with him. He led the way to the ship’s bridge, where Matilde, Neave, and Bolis were all tied while a sailor worked the wheel. The sailors threw Mark down beside them, while Gwylim padded along in their wake.

      The captain took out a knife, heading across to Mark. “So, your friend is going to tell us where to find the old king, and if he gives us any trouble, I’m going to cut pieces off you until he does.”

      “You don’t need to do that,” Royce said. The knife so close to Mark made this more dangerous, but there was no other option. “I’ll guide you.”

      He gazed through Ember’s eyes, looking down on the rocks and the wrecks close to the first of the islands. Using her sight, he started to call out instructions.

      “Left a little,” he said.

      “You think you get to tell us where to go?” the captain demanded.

      “Do you want me to guide you to my father or not?” Royce asked. He still felt so weak. If he had his strength, he would simply cut through the ship’s crew and save his friends. As it was… as it was, this was desperate. “If you don’t believe me, keep an eye on the bird. Ember is leading us.”

      The captain looked up, and Royce looked over to Gwylim, wondering just how much the wolf-like creature understood. He looked over to the captain pointedly, hoping it was enough. He kept looking through Ember’s eyes, letting the ship get closer to land and waiting for his chance…

      “Now!” Royce called out, and the bhargir leapt, striking the captain in the chest even as Royce grabbed the wheel and wrenched it around toward a set of rocks.

      The ship lurched, and even as it did so, Royce was already lunging toward his friends. Drugged as he was, it felt as though he were moving in slow motion, sounds and sights distorted as he heard the