The Princess and The Pirate

With his ship safely secured back at the Port of Rocqueburne, Kyle found himself struggling with the details of being measured for a formal suit. How could upper society have so many needs to change their clothes? Clothes for the morning, clothes for afternoon tea, clothes for dinner… It was asinine! He had a pair of pants, some shirts, and one pair of boots and he lived his life happily!

Despite her occasional protests, Jacqueline wore her royal dresses quite nicely and the formal trappings of society looked stunning on her. As for Kyle, formal clothing just looked frumpy and stiff. He looked like a stubborn child getting his hair brushed by a stranger.

After smoothing out the wrinkles, Kyle made his way downstairs. He hadn’t seen the Princess all day. It was dinner time now. Surely they would rendezvous then – they always did. They didn’t see much of each other and he hoped that would change after the wedding.

The doors to the dining room were opened for him, something else he wasn’t accustomed to at all. He could open his own goddamn doors! Inside was a long decorated table that Kyle thought required four trees to make. Two places were made but the seats were empty.

Frowning, Kyle sat down as a servant filled his water glass. He could pour his own water!

“Have you see Jacqueline?” Maybe she was playing a game?

“I have not, sir,” he replied, stepping away. “No one has seen the Princess since she went into town for her wedding attire.”

He continued to frown, leaning on the arm of his chair. He missed the sway of the ocean. Land was too solid for him.

“Would you like to start?”

“No, I’ll wait,” Kyle said, fixing his eyes on the dining room door. “Can you send for her?”

“Yes, sir.”

And wait he did. The once tall golden candles had now dwindled down to half their length, leaving him in a dim, mournful light. The food had gone cold and his plate remained empty, the whole meal wasted. The growing discomfort in his stomach fed his hunch that something was wrong.

The running of footsteps amplified his stress. A servant appeared in the doorway out of breath. “M’lord!” he panted, entering the room, something clutched in his fist. “The Princess’s handmaidens! They’ve been found, b-but, not alive!”

Staying still in his seat, Kyle’s entire body tensed. It was never safe. It was never, ever going to be safe. “What do you have?”

“This, but the Princess was nowhere near them.” The runner held out a silver needle, the tip coated in deep maroon. “The s-seamstress was dead as well.”

Kyle instantly recognized the long needle. Turning the weapon in his fingers, it caught the candlelight, sparkling momentarily like a lightning bolt. Memories hit him like rolling thunder.

The pirate heard the night breeze in the trees, the room darkened like the forest, and Cordinae’s dying voice echoed in his head. Kyle could see him, a marred, ghostly husk.

“I just want to hear it. There’s too much villainy in the world.”

The old assassin’s words haunted him. He remembered the look in his eyes as the life in him drained away. He remembered how his confessions poured out with his own blood.

“I didn’t always serve the Queen. Eustace likes his women temporarily.”

Kyle’s bones ached, depression and fear shaking him. “Behind the estate is a cemetery of unmarked graves. It goes on for miles. He even hunts upon it.”

A phantom was now haunting him for his lack of diligence against the remaining evils in the world. Maybe it was laziness or perhaps erring on the side of optimism, but they hadn’t discussed the Regent at all. They had even completely neglected the issue of assassination attempts. They were so focused on Lillian. Their suffering was supposed to end the moment they buried the usurper’s body in an unmarked pauper’s grave on the outskirts of the city.

His optimism had betrayed him and he shut his eyes tightly, kicking himself. Kyle knew where his bride was. He knew who took her, but could he, himself, give orders to Jacqueline’s subjects? Did he have any actual power, only a commoner engaged to a future queen? Would anyone dare object?

“Get me horses, get me men, and get me Sir Magnus. Now.”