Shatter Like Glass-Cinderella Retold

Part Twenty-Four

Ashen crouched beside the pirate and pulled off the skull mask. She almost couldn't do it, didn't want to. But she had to. She had to know for certain, no matter how much it hurt. Gripping the mask tightly, she stared down at the pirate. He looked about nineteen. His face was bloodied around his nose and ears, likely from casting spells. There were several thin scars on his face. His face . . . it was so much like Arrow's. He looked more like her than Ashen did.

It really was him. Her little brother. After six years—six long painful years—he was back.

Of all the times she'd imagined finding him again, nothing like this had ever crossed her mind.

Aghast, Nadya asked, "This is your—our—brother?"

Ashen didn't reply. She couldn't stop staring at Markael.

"Ashen," Alena said quietly. Ashen looked at her aunt. One glance and she could tell Alena understood. All the times Ashen had deflected questions about her brother. This was why.

Glancing around the deck, Ashen saw that there were two pirates alive besides her brother. Several Azurian guards had blades pressed to their necks. Ashen frowned. The Flying Saints had many more crewmembers than the ones that attacked today. Had Markael branched out on his own? Surely, he—and his crewmates—would have realized this was a suicide mission. Then again, more guards had been killed than pirates. If Smiegal and she hadn't been there, the fifteen Flying Saints could have killed nearly everyone aboard. Still, Markael wasn't an idiot. He had to have a plan.

"Take those two to the brig," Ashen ordered. "They might have information about the rest of their crew."

The guards glanced at Nikolai. When he didn't offer alternate orders—or any orders—they ushered the pirates towards The Queen's Heart. From where she stood, Ashen could see that it suffered more damage than The Oaken. The Jolly Roger hadn't been hit with cannonballs or boarded. Had Markael left the ship alone on purpose? Or had he planned to sink it after he accomplished his goal.

What was his goal?

Smiegal snapped Ashen from her thoughts. Nodding to her brother, he asked, "What do I do with him?"

Markael raised his eyebrows. "Why so cold, Smiegal? You used to be so nice to me? Remember?"

"I remember," Smiegal said tersely. Ashen ran her fingers through her hair, nearly tearing it from her scalp. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to think about, talk to, or see her brother. Not now, not ever.

Fighting back tears, she turned to Smiegal.

"Do what you want with him," she said. "I don't care what happens to him."

Smiegal opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him with a look. This wasn't the time to discuss Markael. Natalya was likely bleeding to death. Alena's throat was cut, although she looked like she would be alright; the wound had clotted rather quickly. To Ashen's disappointment, it seemed Nikolai would survive as well.

Refusing to look at her brother any longer, Ashen turned away and walked over to Natalya. Nikolai was trying to unpin himself from the wall. Ashen ignored him. Alena or Nadya could help him if they wanted. She certainly wouldn't.

Her cousin was barely breathing when Ashen reached her. Summoning what strength she had left, Ashen lifted her into her arms. At fifteen, Natalya was already the same size as she was. That made moving her difficult.

Nadya ran over to help Ashen. Her face was downcast, and what little Ashen could see of it was clouded with worry. Not anger, but concern.

"Did you mean it?" the princess asked as they carried Natalya downstairs.