The Princess and the Blood of Eternity

Chapter 3: Riddles, Symbols, and Tattoos

Cleo finished climbing onto his ship to lie down and catch his breath. Since jumping off the rear of that boat, everything had become a blur. The princess had surprised him by taking his hand, which had inadvertently led to him swallowing a lungful of seawater. And after nearly drowning and coughing out his brains, he welcomed the warm sun on his ocean-cooled skin as he laid on the deck of his ship.

From what he could see, the Matriarch's ship had disappeared and was on its way to the bottom of the ocean. Debris covered the surface of the ocean for up to a half mile in every direction: cloth, sail, broken pieces of wood, and barrels—it was a mess.

"What are you smiling about?" Ural asked.

"We're alive," Cleo said. "Back inside that hallway, I nearly gave up hope."

Ural nodded. "Aye. I never thought the ship's keel would break so easily, but then again, I know almost nothing about Mont Qerath ship building methods." His eyes narrowed, and he grew serious. "Listen, be careful with the princess. Her handlers were eyeballing the two of you holding hands. I assume they held their tongues because you saved her life, but I wouldn't push my luck."

His warning gave Cleo pause. The age-old story of nobility and commoners. A taboo situation he never imagined would involve him. Perhaps he'd crossed a line by being friendly and getting close to her, even if it'd only been for a moment.

The situation confused him beyond imagining, but Ural was right. He needed to remember that she was a princess, a notion that could help him keep his head attached to his neck.

"Hey, one last thing," Cleo said.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I-I wouldn't have survived without you."

Ural smiled warmly. "No problem, little buddy. It's what I'm here for."

Cleo nodded. He hoped Ural understood how much he appreciated him. Conveying emotion was never easy. Especially for a tough guy like Ural. Too much and he could appear weak, and too little was a good way to make people dislike him. He'd always found it odd that strength meant bottling and hiding emotion—the part that made him human.

Looking around, he spotted Lilith standing on the stern. Her focus lay on the spot where her ship had been, which inadvertently led to him remembering all the dead he'd seen on the deck. He couldn't imagine losing so many friends. Those pirates had wrought so much pain—all the fatherless and motherless children back home. Cleo hoped those pirates met their due in the afterlife.

He focused on the princess again. Perhaps he should offer his condolences.

He rose from his spot on the deck until he noticed Boulder and Cassandra in the throes of a heated debate. Veins showed on the handmaid's neck as she projected her voice into the face of her companion. The large bodyguard seemed to take it in stride. His vast bulk stood straight and proud in the face of what looked like relentless criticism.

Cleo finally worked up the confidence to make his approach. But before he got anywhere, Quinn dropped from the mast and onto the deck to block his path. Her climb from the crow's nest had left her winded. Sweat dotted her arms, neck, and hair—giving her a distressed appearance.

"So nice of you to survive," she said with arms crossed and a frown etched onto her face. "Watching that ship nose dive into the ocean, Agis and I wondered if we'd be searching for two new shipmates. I have to say, it was a surprise seeing your uncle remain unconcerned about your safety. Never thought his craziness would extend to negligence."