Elias pushed himself faster down the wharf, his knee twinging with the cold. The gloom and mist of early dawn was still thick down at the mouth of the bay, choking the narrow alleys and blurring the few lit windows that he passed. When he reached the docks, he searched carefully through the shadows, but didn't see a soul.

He tried to catch his breath, the vapor condensing in front of his face as he began to walk, searching. The only sounds were his uneven gait on the stone, the hushed whisper of the sea and the soft creaking of ropes.

Before he could walk more than a few feet down the wharf, a hand came down on his shoulder, startling him. Elias grabbed for the short sword at his waist, whirling away as he drew. He let out a sigh when he found Malitech grinning at him.

"I don't remember you being quite so jumpy," Malitech said with a laugh. "Or perhaps dry land is disagreeing with you?"

"Hardly," Elias said with a snort, returning his sword to its sheath. "But the rats like to come out during the dark hours."

Malitech lifted a brow in acknowledgement. "I'm hoping for a particular rat."

Elias chose not to respond to that.

He had no idea what the prince was doing down here so early, or why he hadn't just waited to come with Elias. Malitech was heavily hooded and cloaked against the cold and wet, but Elias could tell by the way he moved that he was wearing armor. Chainmail, at the very least.

A cold dread slithered down his spine and settled in his stomach.

"I apologize for the delay, Your Highness," he said, fighting back a cough as the cold seared his throat. "I came as quickly as I could."

"You're here, Elias, that's all that matters." Malitech pulled his hood back slightly, teeth flashing in another quick grin. "My patience is about to be rewarded." He gestured toward the nearest ship, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Elias looked up at the vessel, realizing it was a merchant frigate. High on the mainmast, almost invisible in the pre-dawn light, fluttered the black, yellow and white of the Sorian empire. He stared up at the flag, brow furrowed with confusion.

Limited trade was allowed with the rival empire, but it had been a long time since those colors had been seen in the harbor of the Metian capital. The Sorians usually stuck to the more southern ports. What did that have to do with...

"Soria?" Elias asked in a low voice, his gaze sweeping along the merchant craft. No one moved above decks and there wasn't so much as a flicker of light in any of the portholes. The ship was silent—a great, sleepy sea-beast waiting to be woken. "You believe she sails for Soria?"

Malitech was silent for a long moment, seeming to mull something over. Then he gave a small nod and turned to face Elias again. "Don't ask me how I know, I cannot tell you. Yet. But I know that she sails for Soria. Today."

You don't need me to remind you Malitech is not worth trusting.

Unease once more fluttered in his stomach. Try as he might, he had been unable to shake Prince Marcus' words. It helped nothing when Malitech was so blatant about the fact that he was hiding something. 

Then again, what right did Elias have to the prince's secrets?

It startled him when Malitech laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Please, Elias," he said. "Believe me when I say you will know everything with time, and trust me blindly today."

Elias frowned, wondering when he would learn to keep his thoughts off his face and out of his eyes. When the prince continued to stare at him, imploring, Elias gave a weary nod. Malitech clapped him on the shoulder before he raised a hand and waved twice.

Nothing happened, making Elias look around. Not so much as a shadow stirred.

Malitech smiled, tucking an escaped wisp of dark hair behind his ear, obviously unconcerned. So Elias turned slowly to face the ship, the hair on the back of his neck raising at the feeling of eyes pressing down on them. He tipped his head back stare at the Sorian flag.

"Why would she go to Soria?" he murmured, more to himself than the prince. "Does she intend to meet with Malchus, or..." His frown deepened as something else occurred to him. "You said she was going to Brunia."

Malitech pursed his lips, his fingers drumming an agitated pattern against his thigh. "Brunia or Soria—it seems to change day to day."

"What changes?"

There was a long silence, then: "The information. Some days my sister seems intent on going to Brunia, other days, she wavers toward Soria."

Elias bit at his lip to resist the impulse to ask what this information was sourced in. So instead, he asked, "Why consider going to Brunia at all?" He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his greatcoat, starting to shiver as the sweat from his run began to cool on his body. He chose his next words carefully. "If Cassia can actually accomplish anything that would prove her...claim on the throne, it seems that Soria would bear sweeter opportunities."

"Oh, make no mistake," Malitech mused, his tone edged in anger, "Cassia can accomplish much. But nothing good can come of anything she does."

That, Elias could almost agree with. The princess' choices had certainly caused him nothing but pain. And he didn't like the idea of Cassia sailing willfully toward their enemies. If they found the Heir wandering through their countries, completely unprotected, her life would be forfeit.

"Still," he pressed. "We've only searched northbound ships. I still don't understand the obsession with—"

"If I understood my sister's mind, I'd fear myself mad," Malitech snapped, making Elias flinch minutely. The prince sighed, his breath a frosty plume before his face. "Trust me, Elias. This is our chance to change the course of history."

Trust me.

Malitech is not worth trusting.

Elias suppressed a sigh and gave a short nod. He was here now and couldn't change or stop what Malitech was going to do. He had little say in the matter, but he could hope to keep Cassia safe from the hasty Black Crests or her brother's unpredictable wrath.

Malitech smiled, then gestured him toward an alley wedged between a darkened tavern and the offices of a shipping enterprise. It didn't surprise him to see a handful of fully armed and armored Black Crests tucked into the alley. They were perfectly still and silent, wrapped in dark cloaks, waiting.

It didn't take long for something to happen.

Anticipation began to build in the pit of Elias' stomach when the door to the tavern they were hiding in the shadows of was opened. Slowly, people began to trickle out, talking in hushed voices and carrying shuttered lanterns that provided just enough light to navigate by. Elias scanned the groups of twos and threes carefully, but didn't see anyone who matched Cassia in stature or physique. Of course, she could be slumping down to appear shorter, but there was nothing she could do to make her shoulders seem so broad.

He looked across the alley at the prince, who was nothing more than a flash of teeth in the dim dawn.

They waited until the tavern's door was closed. Malitech raised a hand, his eyes trained on the crew of the Sorian ship as they scurried toward the frigate. When a gangplank was lowered from the ship, Malitech let his hand fall in a lazy chopping motion.

He was confident, Elias realized as he flattened himself against the stone wall of the alley as the contingent of Black Crests with them flooded out of the alley. Something had made the prince happy—nearly excited.

He had complete faith in this information. 

Elias stayed with the prince, watching as the Black Crests swept down the docks, lethal as shadows. Within moments, men lay dead or wounded on the wharf. Some, the guards captured, holding the sailors while their comrades sprinted up the gangplank to board the ship.

It wasn't long before the captain of the Black Crests was signaling them from the bow.

"Come, Elias," Malitech said, barely able to suppress his glee. 

They picked their way between the bodies of the dead and wounded, Elias peering carefully into each face. He swung like a pendulum between fear and relief as each body turned out to not be the princess. When they reached the gangplank, he hung back a step so Malitech could board the ship first. He opened his mouth and nearly asked permission to come aboard, then realized he needn't do such a thing. You didn't need permission to come onto a commandeered vessel.

Elias cast one last glance down at the dead members of the Sorian crew, then frowned at the prince's back as they stepped onto the deck of the ship. That had been careless. Sloppy even. What if the princess had been caught in the middle of that? 

If one of Malitech's Black Crests killed her, would it count as an accident? Or would the gods lash out with quick fury, striking at anyone who had a hand in this little ambush? Elias couldn't help but glance up at the leaden sky, imagining Corlana frowning down at them, her all-seeing eyes glowing with silver rage.

Or vengeful Torvan tearing through the wharf, dumping them all into the sea where they would be shredded by the waves and sharks controlled by wild Niseera.

He was pulled from his glum musings when one of the Black Crests—a man named Sophus—dragged a Sorian forward. He was an older man with deep-tan skin, the golden earrings he bore marked him as someone of importance. Elias could only guess he was the captain of the ship. The man was shoved forward onto his knees and glared insolently up at the prince.

Malitech's breath came out in a languorous sigh. He enjoyed this sort of thing. Elias wasn't interested in watching as the prince pried an answer from the old sailor. When he murmured something about taking a look around the ship, Malitech waved a hand in acquiescence, attention already firmly fixed on his current quarry. 

Light flared and caught Elias' eyes, making him drift back to the port rail. Light spilled from the open door of the tavern, making everything else around it seem drenched in darkness. He stayed for a moment longer, waiting, but no one ventured forth.

The thud of a fist against flesh made him wince, but he just continued on, toward the foredeck where the prince's guard had corralled what remained of the frigate's crew. A few of the guards gave him friendly nods, stepping aside as he began to look the Sorians over.

He didn't know what he'd do if he found what he was looking for. He wasn't sure there was anything he'd be able to do.

Elias walked through the crew members, ignoring the glares and soft hisses sent his way. From behind him, a cry of pain rose on the air and the men around him seemed to shudder. The hisses turned to mutters and Elias couldn't help but place his hand on the sword at his side. The nearest Black Crest guard raised his weapon and the crew grudgingly settled.

It would have been easier if the prince had stayed in the castle.

Now the crew refused to look at him, turning their heads to the side or staring down at the planks beneath their feet. Elias had to force their faces toward him, searching for golden eyes, for soft, full lips and a fine, straight nose.

By the time he got through searching, the copper tang of blood mixed with the salt in the air and Elias had the distinct impression that it would be hazardous to his health to stay among the Sorian crew any longer.

Reluctantly, he turned back to where Malitech still towered over the captain. The Sorian was slumped forward and, as Elias approached, he could see that the man's nose was bleeding and his teeth were stained red. His left eye was beginning to swell shut and some of his earrings had been torn from their place.

Malitech was frowning now, scrubbing at his knuckles with a white handkerchief. Cautiously, Elias stopped beside him, facing the stern and the sun, which was just now peeking over the waves. "She's not here."

"She's not among the crew," Malitech hissed. Then he raised his voice, pointing at four of the guards. "Accompany Captain Lucans." He turned slightly, his eyes glittering with rage. "I think you can search a ship more thoroughly than I can, Elias."

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold crawled up his spine. He gave a sharp nod, motioning the four Black Crests to follow him. They skirted around Malitech and the captain, exchanging almost resigned looks.

They were as familiar with the prince's rages as Elias was. And they didn't believe the Heir was here any more than he did.

So why are we here, he asked himself as he directed the guards toward the hold and turned himself toward the stern and the captain's cabin. Why am I here?

He sighed as he pushed the door of the captain's cabin open. It was just a matter of going through the motions. Elias opened the tiny closet, then riffled through some of the papers scattered on the captain's bunk. He only recognized a few words in Sorian, but as far as he could tell there was nothing of interest. Sighing, he glanced out the thick glass of a window toward the sun. The sight of red clouds lying low on the horizon made him frown.

Elias wasn't terribly superstitious, but any sailor knew what a red dawn meant.

Unease drew an even tighter noose around his guts. Turning sharply on his heel, he left the cabin and spent a few minutes searching through the map-room. He skirted around where Malitech was still interrogating the captain and went down to the berth deck, where the rest of the sailors slept. Using a candle he'd taken from the captain's cabin, he searched between the hammocks, listening carefully for the soft tread of sneaking feet.

The only thing he heard, though, was a burst of noise and shouting from above his head. Elias grimaced, then turned back toward the bow. He met the guards at the stairs leading up to the main deck. By the apprehensive looks on their faces, he knew they hadn't found anything.

Elias let out a long sigh, leaning around the Black Crests to peer down the short hall leading down into the hold. The voices above were getting louder. He could tell they were speaking in Metian, but couldn't make out the exact words.

"Go see what that's all about," he said, stepping past them.

"We've already searched down there, sir," one of the guards said—a younger man with sallow skin and black eyes.

Elias just nodded, hissing when wax from the candle he was still carrying trickled down over his fingers. The guards all exchanged a glance, but didn't disobey. Elias listened as they trooped up the stairs behind them while he made his way into the hold.

Working with precision, he began inspecting the walls, pacing things off and comparing the measurements to what he had seen of the ship's dimensions outside. As he did this, he occasionally stamped a foot, listening for the telltale hollow thud of any hidden compartments. 

There was nothing. No smuggler's holes, no hidden rooms. Nothing.

Elias heaved a sigh, wrinkling his nose against the scent of stale sweat and tar. He didn't look forward to telling the prince that he had been wrong. Muttering under his breath, Elias crossed the length of the hold, then blew out the candle before he started up the steps.

He stopped at the tableau that greeted him. A man stood between Malitech and the captain, a vicious scowl on his scarred face. He wasn't carrying any weapons as far as Elias could see. When he walked up to stand beside the prince, Elias was shocked to find that the man was missing his left arm. Startling blue-green eyes pinned him in place before sweeping over him and flicking back to the prince.

"All I'm saying, Your Highness, is that your approach was unnecessary," the scarred man said. He gestured toward the captain, who was now being propped up by a member of his crew. Blood leaked from his nose, his lip, his temple. "The ship would have submitted to a search without this."

Malitech gave the man a thin smile. "I think you'll find..."

"Corax," the man offered, which made Elias raise an eyebrow. It was a strange name.

"Corax," Malitech said, like he was tasting the word. "I think you'll find everything I do is entirely necessary."

Corax glanced at the bloodied captain, his brows lifting in disbelief. The fingers of his remaining hand tapped against his thigh as he turned back to the prince. Once again, those bright eyes darted to Elias, then around to the Black Crests surrounding him. They watched restlessly, like so many hungry wolves.

The man was obviously weighing what he wanted to say carefully.

"Of course, Your Highness," he said, inclining his head. Elias didn't miss how his mouth thinned in disgust. "Your decision to search this ship is surely justified. I am merely questioning why you found it necessary to do this?" He gestured down to the blood shining on the planks beneath his boots.

Elias looked at the prince to find his eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits. He lifted a finger and the nearest Black Crest lunged forward, smashing his gauntleted fist into the man's jaw. He stumbled backward, a spray of red coming from his mouth. He shook his head once, then stepped forward again, spitting a mouthful of blood at the feet of the man who'd struck him.

"You'd be wise to learn your place," Malitech said, sounding bored. "I don't suffer foolish questions—or the fools who ask them—gladly." He tilted his head toward Elias. "Did you find anything?"

Elias eyed the man for a second longer, watching as he spat out another mouthful of blood, staining his lips red. He shook his head slightly, answering Malitech's question. "They must have offloaded must of their cargo already. There was nothing more than a few casks of wine and maybe a dozen bolts of silk."

Common goods from Soria. Goods that required a royal writ before they could be imported.

For a moment, the only movement was a muscle jumping in the prince's jaw. Then, he smiled. "Wine," Malitech said slowly. "And silk." He lifted an eyebrow at Elias. "Damask silk?"

Elias shrugged. He hadn't cared to look that closely. He wasn't here for contraband.

Malitech tapped a finger thoughtfully against his lips, leveling a stare on the scarred man. "You are an importer?"

Corax didn't so much as blink. "I'm simply a tavern owner."

Unlikely. Elias would bet not a single thing about this man was simple.

"A concerned citizen, perhaps?" Malitech said dryly. Again he lifted a finger. This time, a fist was slammed into the scarred man's gut. He doubled over, choking for a moment. He coughed once, twice, then straightened and looked at the prince. His calm, blank expression never wavered.

"I often deal with traders and merchants," he rasped. "It hurts my business when they believe they'll only be beaten for their trouble."

Elias could hardly believe what he was hearing. A bruise was blooming across the man's face, blood crusting his lip and staining his teeth, yet he was still daring to stand before the prince? To question him?

Perhaps he had a death wish.

"Are you dealing with these merchants?" Malitech all but purred, and Elias flinched at the soft hiss of steel as a knife was pulled from its sheath. He couldn't tell who had drawn their weapon.

Again, Elias could practically see the gears turning behind Corax's eyes. Admitting he was dealing with the Sorians could get him arrested—or worse—for smuggling. Denying the same would make it seem like he had simply decided to stand in the prince's way, a far more dangerous endeavor.

Just as Corax opened his mouth, though, a new voice rang out.

"Of course he's dealing with them. I could hardly be expected to travel down to the docks every time we manage to allow a shipment of my favorite wine."

Elias turned to find Prince Marcus stepping off the gangplank. His hair was wind-mussed and there were dark shadows under his eyes, but he wore a slight smile that implied he found all of this terribly amusing. He swaggered past the beaten captain, clicking his tongue in disapproval before he brushed past Corax. He stopped just a few feet away from his older brother.

Malitech had gone still, like a hunting dog scenting his prey. A disturbed rustle seemed to move through the Black Crests. Murdering a nameless tavern owner was no problem for them. Murdering a prince of the realm would come with a significantly larger number of strings and consequences.

"Really, Malitech," Marcus said with a sigh, straightening the cuffs of his heavy black coat. "Reduced to beating merchant captains?"

"This is no concern of yours."

"It is when you stick your nose into a deal of mine."

No one dared to move. Elias wasn't sure any of them were breathing. The only two people who looked remotely at ease were Marcus and, strangely, Corax. Then again, Elias had yet to see that man look nervous, even when he'd been assaulted by Malitech's guards.

"A deal of yours," Malitech repeated flatly. "You gave permission for this shipment?"

"If you'd bothered to ask, my associate here would have been able to produce a proper writ."

All eyes turned to Corax, who seemed to be fighting against a smirk. At a nod from Marcus, he reached into his pocket. Elias watched, appalled, as Corax extracted a piece of parchment bearing the younger prince's seal. He offered it to the guard who had left him with the bloody lip.

Why hadn't he offered that earlier?

"You allowed this ship into our port?" Malitech snapped, drawing everyone's attention back to him.

Marcus gave him a droll look. "It would seem so." He grinned, the expression a quick slash of teeth. "You know I have a weakness for Sorian wine."

"This is your ship?" 

Elias couldn't help but stare at Malitech, surprised by how thrown the prince appeared to be. His face was a still mask, but his clenched teeth and white knuckles gave away the fact that he was practically incandescent with rage.

"Well," Marcus said, "not so much my ship as my shipment."

Everyone stayed silent for a long moment. The older prince's eyes shifted back and forth between Marcus and Corax, then he turned abruptly to stare toward the waterfront. Elias nearly jumped a foot in the air when Malitech snapped, "Captain Lucans. The tavern. Take five men."

Marcus laughed, sweeping a hand toward the gangplank. Looking directly at Elias, he said, "By all means." Then he looked at his brother. "You won't find anything."

"Go," Malitech snarled. "Now!"

Elias sprang forward, darting between the two brothers and all but leaping down the gangplank. The guards were hot on his heels as they dashed toward the tavern. The door flew open under Elias' palm and there was a hair-raising scream from a girl behind the bar when they barged into the main room.

"Upstairs," he ordered. "Check every room. Don't kill anyone."

The Black Crests went up the stairs with a thundering of boots and clanking of armor. Elias himself dashed through the main room and into the kitchens, scaring another girl. She cowered back against one of the shelves and Elias held his hands up, trying to show he meant no harm. "Where is your cellar?" he asked, as calmly as he could.

The girl raised a shaking, flour-covered hand, pointing toward the back corner at a door. Elias rushed past her, ignoring her startled little shriek. Above, he could hear swearing and screams as the Black Crests barged in on the tavern's patrons.

Elias made it down into the cellar just in time to watch a sliver of sunlight disappear. An outer door had been closed. He raced across the cellar, swearing as he bashed into wine barrels and tripped over sacks of grain. When he found the door, he yanked it open, shielding his eyes against the sun. Running footsteps drew his attention to the left, just in time to watch as the edge of someone's cloak whipped around the corner of the building.

Plunging into the narrow street behind the tavern, Elias opened his mouth to call for the Black Crests, then stopped. Indecision squeezed down on his chest, making it even harder to run. He skidded around the corner of the building, just to stop at the flash of a swinging sword.

"No!" a woman cried.

Elias ducked a blade, then scrambled backwards, drawing his own sword. But whoever had attacked him was already running again. They were heavily hooded and cloaked, making it impossible to discern any details aside from the fact that one was shorter and slighter than the other. As Elias sprinted after them, he watched the larger of the two push the smaller one forward.

They cut down a narrow alley, headed back toward the ocean and suddenly Elias knew where they were headed.

Levitum's port sat in the cradle between two hills that gently rose into sea cliffs. These cliffs protected the bay, but were riddled with caves that had been the bane of the port authority for centuries. Smugglers, on the other hand, were quite fond of them.

A ship could wait, anchored a little out from the cliffs, and be invisible from the port. Invisible unless someone happened to walk up to the edge of the cliff and look straight down. The navy usually had at least a ship or two patrolling the coast here to prevent any unfriendly vessels from taking advantage of such a blind-spot, but the caves stretched for miles and were often frequented by pirates as well as smugglers.

Elias ran harder, desperate to catch them before they made it to the small stretch of beach that allowed access to these caves from the mainland at low tide.

He swore when his knee began to radiate pain up his leg into his groin. Neither of the people he was chasing showed any signs of flagging—not even the woman. He gritted his teeth and attempted to lengthen his stride, alternately cursing and begging every god he could think of.

The larger of the two shouted something in Sorian, his sword flashing at his side. The curved blade swept in a deadly arc as the man turned to face Elias, throwing off his hood. Long, dark braids swung out, shimmering with gold as he settled into a fighting stance.

But the smaller of the two snapped something in the same language and grabbed a handful of the man's cloak, yanking him toward the sand. The man snarled, teeth flashing brightly against his dark skin, but he turned and allowed the woman to pull him down the stone stairs.

In that time, Elias had managed to close the distance. His breath clouded in front of his eyes, his fingers cramping as he gripped the hilt of his sword. The Sorian man once more pushed the woman forward and they ran across the sand, floundering slightly in the dunes.

Elias leapt down the stairs, crying out when something in his knee crunched as he landed. He stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to right himself just as they made it to the wet crescent of sand that wound around the base of one of the chalky cliffs. They disappeared around the corner and Elias hissed in rage.

His knee screaming now, Elias managed a limping run around the cliff, wet sand sucking at his boots, trying to trip him.

He skidded to a stop when he arrived just in time to see his quarry half-splashing, half-swimming through the shallows toward a rowboat. A man with deep-tan skin and curly black hair reached for the woman, hauling her up into the boat as her companion pulled himself out of the water.

All Elias could hear was the waves and the ragged sound of his own breath. Slowly, he returned his sword back to its sheath. Shading his eyes against the brilliant sunrise, he found a sleek looking caravel waiting just a half-mile away.

When he returned his attention to the boat, he swore softly and sank to his knees. 

Kneeling precariously in the stern, her dark hair blowing in the wind, Cassia stared back at him. He knew it was impossible to see but he was almost sure she was crying, tears slipping silently down her face. After a long moment, she lifted a hand in farewell.

Elias swallowed against a wave of nausea and lifted his hand in reply.

He had been so damn close. If he had just moved a little faster through the cellar, he would have...

Biting his tongue against the pain, Elias pushed himself to his feet and turned his back on Cassia.

He needed to decide what he was going to tell the prince.