TKaK20

## Chapter 20

**Chapter 20** in **To Kill a Kingdom** is another one told by **Elian** where he visits **Galina** and matches her up with **Yukiko**.

## **About**

### **Characters**

* **Elian Midas**
* **Kye**
* **Reina Galina**
* **Lira**

## **Full Version**

IN THE PALACE, IT’S always hard to tell who’s in their right mind.

I stand alone in the entrance hall and fasten my black waistcoat. I look princely, which is exactly how I hate to be and, always, how Queen Galina wants me. The sun of Eidýllio has long vanished, and with it the paint-blotted sky has dimmed to midnight hues. Inside the palace, the walls are a soft red, but under the light of so many chandeliers they look almost orange. Like watered-down blood.

I try not to reach for my knife.

Madness moves at inhuman speed here, and even I’m not quick enough to stop it. I feel unsettled in this place, without my crew beside me, but bringing them would mean breaking a pact between the royal families of the world. Letting them in on a secret that should never be known, especially to pirates. So instead of bringing my crew, I lied to them. I lie to everyone these days. Whisper stories of how mundane a pirate’s life is to my sister. Wink when I tell my crew about Queen Galina and how she likes me all to herself.

Only Kye knows otherwise, which is the one favorable aspect to being a diplomat’s son that either of us has been able to find. Being aware of royal secrets – or having dirt on the world’s leaders to use when convenient – is something Kye’s father specializes in. And Kye, who usually makes it a point to be a paradox to his upper-class bloodline, has kept that trait. It’s the only thing he inherited from his father.

“Are you sure you don’t want me there?” he asked on the way to the Serendipity.

I glanced back to see if Lira was still standing in the center of the market square, but it was far too busy and we were far too fast and she was far too elusive to stay prominent in a crowd.

“I need Queen Galina to trust me,” I said. “And your being there won’t help.”

“Why?”

“Because nobody trusts diplomats.”

Kye nodded as though that was a valid point, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Still,” he said. “It’d be nice for you to have backup in case Galina isn’t fond of your plan to manipulate her kingdom.”

“Your confidence in me is heartwarming.”

“Nothing against your charm,” he said. “But do you really think she’s going to go for it?”

“Everything you just said is exactly against my charm.” I knocked his shoulder with mine. “Either way, it’s worth a try. If there’s any hope that Queen Galina can help me sidestep a marriage alliance with someone fully capable of killing me in my sleep, then I’ll take it.”

“You say that like Galina isn’t fully capable of killing you when you’re awake.”

He had a point, of course. Kye always made a habit of having points, especially where dangerous women were concerned. Still, I left him behind with the others, because as nice as backup would be, there’s not a chance in hell Galina would let a pirate into her palace.

I look down at my shirt to check if my buttons are fastened, just in case – there are certain sins that won’t be tolerated – and stand up a little straighter. Comb back my hair with my hand. I already miss my hat and my boots and everything else that keeps the *Saad* with me even when she’s docked.

But Galina really does hate pirates.

She trusts me more when she can see the prince of gold rather than a captain of the sea. Though there are a lot of things I will never understand about her, that isn’t one of them. I barely trust myself when I’ve got my hat on.

“She’s waiting for you.”

A guard steps out from the shadows. He is covered head to toe in red armor, not a single slice of skin on show. His eyes float aimlessly in a sea of red fabric. This is what it’s like for most of the guards and household staff. Never any chance of being touched directly.

I eye him cautiously. “I was waiting for you,” I tell him. “The door looks too heavy to open all by myself.”

I can’t tell if he smiles or glares, but he definitely doesn’t blink. After considering me for a mere second, he steps forward and brings his hand to the door.

The room is different. Not just from the rest of the palace, but from how it was the last time I was here. The marble walls have turned charcoal and are thick with stale ash and the smell of burning. The ceiling sprawls to endless heights, ribbed by grand wooden beams, and the color is gone from everywhere but the floor. It’s the only red thing, polished to shine.

And in the far corner, on a throne shaped like a bleeding heart, the Queen of Eidýllio smiles.

“Hello, Elian.”

The guard closes the door, and Queen Galina beckons me forward. Her black hair glides down her waist and onto the floor in tight coils. It’s woven with rose petals that shed from her like tiny feathers. Her deep brown skin blends into the satin dress that begins at her chin and ends far past her toes.

She holds out her hand for mine, fingers spread like a spiderweb.

I consider her for a moment and then raise an eyebrow, because she should know better. Or at least, be aware that I know better.

The legend of Eidýllio says that anyone who touches a member of the royal family will instantly find their soul mate. The secret of Eidýllio, which only the royal families of the hundred kingdoms – and Kye’s family, apparently – are privy to, is a little different. Because the gift, passed down through the women of the family, does not help men find love, but lose their will completely. Overtaken by endless devotion and lust until they become mindless puppets.

I take a seat on the plush sofa opposite the thrones, and Galina drops her hand with a smirk. She leans back and stretches her legs out onto the tiles.

“You came to visit,” Galina says. “Which must mean that you want something.”

“The pleasure of your company.”

Galina laughs. “Neither of us has pleasurable company.”

“The pleasure of your company and a mutually beneficial bargain.”

Galina sits up a little straighter. “A bargain, or a favor? I much prefer favors,” she says. “Especially when they place princes in my debt.”

Sakura’s face flashes across my mind, and I think back to the bargain I made with her. My kingdom, for an end to the siren plague. “I’m in enough debt with royalty,” I say.

“Spoilsport,” Galina teases. “I won’t ask for much. Just a region or two. Perhaps a kiss.”

Usually I entertain this game of cat and mouse for a little longer. Let her toy with me through thinly veiled threats of skin on skin, as though she would ever dare turn me into one of her playthings. On a normal day, we would pretend. I, to be scared she would touch me. And Galina, to be brave enough to consider it. But the truth is, that for all of her faults – and the last I counted, there were many – Galina takes little joy in her abilities. It even caused the king to turn against her when he grew tired of protecting her secret for a marriage that offered no intimacy.

Galina didn’t hold his hand or stand close enough for their skin to touch, nor did she share a bed with him on their wedding night or any other night that followed. They slept at distant ends of the palace, in separate wings with separate servants and ate very much the same way: at opposite edges of a table large enough to seat twenty. It was information we shouldn’t have known, but once the king had a drink, he was more than vocal about such matters.

Unlike her predecessors, Galina has no desire to force love to secure heirs. She didn’t want her husband to slowly lose his mind with devotion, and so instead he slowly lost it to greed. He wanted more than she could offer – her kingdom, if he could – and it resulted in a coup bloodier than most wars.

Since his betrayal, she seems to have chosen a life of even more solitude. *There is to be no second husband*, she told the other ruling families. *I have no interest in being betrayed again or passing my curse on to any children*. And so instead she takes in wards from Orfaná, which houses all of the world’s unwanted children.

Not continuing her bloodline is bad enough, but choosing to rule alone has left her country suffering. With Kardiá gaining power, Galina needs someone by her side to do the things her gift prevents her from, like liaise with the people and offer the warmth she has grown too frightened to give. And I need someone who can get me out of my deal with Sakura.

I walk toward the throne and hold out a piece of parchment.

This time, I’m too anxious to play pretend. Galina’s reluctance to remarry tells me all I need to know and, in a fortuitous turn of fate, presents a rather interesting solution to one of my many problems. So rarely does karma grant me such favors.

Galina takes the parchment from me and her eyes scan over the paper, first with a confused frown and then with an intrigued smirk. It’s exactly the sort of reaction I was hoping for.

“Prince Elian,” she says. “How did you get your hands on something like this?”

I take a step forward, as close as I can get without risking my sanity. “From the same place you can get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

THINGS WERE GOING SMOOTHLY. Or rather, they had screwed themselves into a great mess, and I was getting closer to pressing out the wrinkles. Galina played coy, but there was undeniable thirst in her eyes that gave me hope. *Mutually beneficial*, she mused, quoting my words back to me.

Her support would mean one less thing to think about on this impossible mission. And with Lira finally off my ship, I’ve also got one less person to worry about trusting. All in a day’s work.

I struggle to get Lira’s face out of my mind as I walk through the sparse Eidýllion streets. When I returned the seashell, there had been an odd look in her eyes. Like I was idiotic and wonderful at the same time. Like I was a fool and she was glad for it.

I take in a long breath and press my palms to my eyes, trying to blot out the sleep. When she told me that the Sea Queen had taken revenge on her family, it seemed sincere enough, and the compass, though unsteady, had pointed north just the same. Still, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something isn’t right. That no matter what truths she may give, there are lies hidden within.

I stroll across the abandoned market street, which is thick with pastry crumbs. The night is warm and sweet, even with the moon blanketing the sky. The stars here are clearer than in most kingdoms, and it’s a struggle for me to keep walking. Not to stand and marvel at them. Lie on the cobblestone and think about their stories, the way I do aboard the *Saad*.

I head toward the Serendipity. We stay there each time we dock in Eidýllio, because it’s an inn and a tavern, and there are few things that can’t be solved with both sleep and rum. As I make my way there, a symphony of footsteps trails behind my own. I slow my pace and slip into a nearby alley marked by abandoned trader stools. It’s thin, and a line of stars hangs overhead like streetlamps.

I push myself against the wall, feeling warm brick against my back. The footsteps become uncertain, searching. There’s a small moment of trepidation, when the world goes quiet and all I hear is a low gasp of wind. Then the footsteps follow me into the alley.

I don’t wait for my attacker to strike. I step out of the darkness, hand poised over my knife. Ready to gut whoever would be stupid enough to try to jump the captain of the *Saad*.

A girl stands, half in the shadows, dark red hair clinging to her cheeks. When she sees me, she hooks her hands over her hips, exasperated. Her eyes flood through me like poison.

“Why are you hiding?” Lira asks. “I was trying to follow you.”

I let out a long breath and sheathe my knife. “I’m pretty sure I got rid of you already.”

Lira shrugs, unoffended, and I consider what it would take to get under her skin. She waves off each and every comment like they’re barely an annoyance. As though she has far better things to do than worry about what me or any of my crew thinks.

Lira studies me. “Why do you look like a prince all of a sudden?” she asks.

“I am a prince,” I say, and move to pass her.

Lira walks in stride with me. “Not usually.”

“What would you know about being usual?”

Lira’s face remains blank, and once again I fail to have any sort of impact. Then she rolls her eyes, as if in compromise. *Here, I’ll act irritated. Just to please you, Your Highness*.

“You’re right,” Lira tells me.

She pulls on the fabric of her dress. It’s an old raggedy thing that Madrid found shoved into a trunk belowdecks. A stowaway from a ransack of a pirate ship. I’m almost sure it was pretty once, just as I’m almost sure we’ve been using it to clean Madrid’s speargun for the past year. It was the best that I could do on short notice, unless Lira wanted to be clothed like a pirate, which I doubted.

Still, looking at her now, the decent man in me feels a little ashamed.

Lira stops walking to clutch the ends of her dress in both hands and then lower to the ground in a sardonic curtsy. I, too, stop, shooting her a scathing look, and she scoffs, which is the closest thing to a laugh I’ve heard from her.

“Queen Galina isn’t big on pirates,” I tell her, as I turn away and begin walking again. Lira follows. “It’s not like I enjoy dressing this way.”

I tug at my collar, which suddenly feels tight around my neck. There’s silence and Lira promptly stops walking. I turn to face her, a question in my eyes, but she just stares.

“Here,” she says, and makes a grab for my knife.

I flinch back and grab her wrist before she has the chance. Lira shoots me a disparaging look, like I’m even more of an idiot than she thought. I can feel her pulse strumming under my thumb before she slowly pulls out of my grasp.

She reaches for my knife again, tentatively, and this time I let her. I can tell she’s enjoying the fact that I’m wary, as though it’s the greatest compliment I could give. When her hand touches the knife, there’s a spark in my chest, like a cog being pulled loose from a machine. I’ve always been connected to it in a way that I struggle to explain. When Lira touches it, I feel a sudden coldness passing from the blade through to my bones. I watch her with steady eyes, not risking a blink. She hesitates with the blade in her hands, as though considering all the possibilities it could bring. And then she takes a breath and swiftly cuts a line down my shirtsleeve.

The blade grazes my skin but, miraculously, doesn’t draw blood.

I snatch the knife back from her. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, surveying the tear below my shoulder.

“Now you look like a pirate,” she says, and continues walking.

Incredulous, I jog to catch up with her. I’m about to tell her that she’s going to have to pay for that, either with coin – which I doubt she has – or her life, but she turns to me and says, “I saw the Reoma Putoder.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“Maybe I stole one instead.”

She says this with a biting smile, but as the sentence fades, she reaches up to toy with the seashell I returned. It looks unnaturally bright against her neck. She touches it contemplatively, and I recognize the gesture. It’s something I’ve done a thousand times over with my family crest ring. Whenever I think of the people I’ve left behind, or the burdens of a kingdom I’ll never feel ready to rule. If Lira’s story is true, then the necklace probably belonged to the siren who killed her family. A talisman to remind her of the revenge she must carry out.

“I still want to come with you,” Lira says.

I fight to keep walking with long, even strides. The Serendipity appears ahead, another building in a row of chess-piece houses. It’s stacked three stories higher than the others, with orange brick and a sign that hangs from a silhouette of the Love God. Outside, a group of women smoke cigars on thick oak benches, large jugs of mulled wine by their feet.

We stop by the doorway and I raise an eyebrow. “To avenge your family?”

“To stop this war once and for all.”

“We’re at war?” I make a grab for the door. “How dramatic.”

Lira snatches my torn shirtsleeve. “This needs to end,” she says.

I flinch at the contact, resisting the urge to go for my knife. There’s never a time when I don’t have to be on guard.

I roll my shoulder out of Lira’s grip and keep my voice low. “Don’t keep making the mistake of thinking you can touch me,” I tell her. “I’m the crown prince of Midas and captain of the world’s most deadly ship. If you do that again, a few nights in a cage will seem like a godsend.”

“The Sea Queen took everything from me,” Lira spits, ignoring the threat. There’s a deep crease in the center of her brow, and when she shakes her head, it’s as though she is trying to shake the wrinkle out. “You can’t imagine the pain she’s caused. The Crystal of Keto is the only way to fix that.”

She hisses the last part. The raw and scratchy way her voice pounces on the Midasan, like the words aren’t enough to convey what she’s feeling, makes my head swim. So much inside of her that she can’t get out. Thoughts and feelings there are never enough ways to show.

I swallow and try to pull myself together. “You said you know things that nobody else does. Like what?”

“Like the ritual you must perform if you want to free the Crystal of Keto from where it’s hidden,” she says. “I’d bet my life you don’t have the first clue about that.”

I don’t let the surprise register on my face. Even Sakura didn’t know the first thing about the ritual we need to conduct, and it’s hidden in her kingdom. What are the chances a stowaway on my ship would be the one to have the last piece of my puzzle? There’s no way I’m that lucky.

“You have a habit of using your life as collateral,” I say.

“Does that mean you will take the deal?” Lira asks.

I’d be a fool to take it and trust a stranger who claims to know the one secret I don’t. I haven’t survived this long by putting my life in the hands of my ex-prisoners. But to not take it would make me even more of a fool. Lira can speak *Psáriin*. She has experience hunting sirens. What if I leave her behind and then can’t even free the crystal once I have it? If I make it all that way only to drown in the final wave. The ritual is the only part of my quest where I don’t have an idea past winging it, and now Lira is offering up a plan of her own on a gold platter.

If Kye were here, he’d tell me not to even think about considering it. *Good riddance*, he said when we left Lira to the streets of Eidýllio, sure neither of us would see her again. *I’ve got enough to protect you from without adding deadly damsels to the list*. And he wasn’t wrong. Kye had sworn to protect me – not just to my father, whose money he’d taken more for the heck of it than to seal any deal – but to me. To himself. And Kye has never taken that job lightly. But I have a job too, a mission, and without Lira’s help, I could leave the world open to the evils of the Sea Queen and her race forever.

“Well?” Lira presses. “Are you going to take the deal?”

“I told you I don’t take deals,” I say. “But maybe I’ll take your word instead.”

I pull open the door to the Serendipity, and Lira pushes through ahead of me. I’m hit with the familiar smell of metal and ginger root, and there are a thousand memories that shift through my mind, each as dastardly as the next. For all the ideas a name can give, the Serendipity’s tells nothing of its true nature. It’s a den for gamblers and the kinds of men and women who never see the light of day. They stick to moonlight, far from the ornate colors of the town. They are shadows, with fingers made sticky by debt and wine strong enough to knock a person dead from a single jug.

Some of my crew takes the large round table at the back and I smile. When I left to visit Queen Galina and strike a deal for my future, an odd wave of nausea crept up into my stomach. Like ocean sickness, if I could ever feel such a thing. Land sickness, maybe. Being separated from them, especially for such an important task, left me drained. Seeing them now, I’m revitalized.

“Just so you know,” I say to Lira, “if you’re lying, I might kill you.”

Lira tips her chin up, eyes defiant and too blue for me to look at her straight. At first I’m not sure if she’s going to say anything back, but then she licks her lips and I know it’s because she can taste the sweetness of whatever insult she’s about to throw.

“Maybe,” she says as the light whimpers against her skin, “I might just kill you first.”