Avarice of the Sea | | b o o k 1

Prelude

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⸫  P R E L U D E  ⸫

 My boat's by the tower, and my bark's on the bay,
And both must be gone by the dawn of the day.
The moon's on her shroud, and to light thee afar
On the deck of the daring's a lovelighted star.
So wake, lady wake, I am waiting for thee
Oh, this night or never my bride thou shalt be
So wake, lady wake, I am waiting for thee.
Oh, this night or never my bride thou shalt be.

            The song my mother sang to me that night was the last I had heard from her. Afterward she strode across the room to lock the windows of my second story bedroom, and then gracefully swept over to the door where she blew me a kiss onto the wind. I caught it with my tiny hands, and lazily tucked it beneath the blankets as she departed with an inkling of a smile upon her lips. The door locked after her, and the key was most likely tucked safely away in the pocket of her nightgown.

            If she hadn't locked the window that night, I would most likely have been taken, too. Sometimes I regretted not standing up for my safety, but I was just a wee little girl. It was like diving into a war of swords with nothing but a twig.

            I sat up the instant the blast of a cannon fired in the distance. With the blankets now pulled back from me, I scrambled towards the window across the room. Halfway there, the earth seemed to shake on the impact the cannon had provided, nearly knocking me onto the floor. Through the clear glass of the window, my eyes caught on the figure silhouetted by the candle light in my room.

            Skidding to a halt, I rushed backward away from the man on the other side of the window. Though his figure couldn't be seen at this point, I knew he was there due to the shadow casting over the railing outside the window.

            Beyond my own inner turmoil, I could scarcely hear the screams echoing outside the safety of my bedroom. Panicking, I dashed towards the first hiding place I could think of: the closet.

            Through the wooden panels draped over the door of the closet, I sat with my arms tucked around my knees as I waited for the man to come. I could hear the shink! of his knife playing with the lock on the window before it unlatched. Peering through the thin spaces between the panels of the door, I witnessed the window being opened and a young lad most likely five years apart from me at that time stepped through. A much older man, who must have been the silhouetted figure on the balcony, closely followed him.

            I couldn't make out their exact features at the time, but their apparel instantly reminded me of my mother's description of white blouses covered with tough leather vests tied by twine in the front. The man, camouflaged with his tall black boots, strolled across the room while strapping his knife into his belt.

            "Search through the jewelry for anythin' of use," the older man ordered, directing the boy towards my large assortment of jewelry, most of which was my mother's.

            I watched pitifully as they raided through my bedroom, never once sparing a glance in the direction of my closet. During that time, as I would learn in the following hours to come, this attack was the first to have royalty kidnapped. My mother has not been seen since.