Ship of Destiny

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — Ship of Destiny

THE CREWMEN PARTED TO MAKE WAY FOR KENNIT. HE STEPPED PAST THEM AND peered down at the figure sprawled facedown on his deck. Water ran from his clothes. Dripping hair masked his features. "Interesting bit of flotsam, Etta," he observed sourly. Whoever he was, or, Ke

"You fished him out. You may keep him," Ke

"Is he breathing? Is Reyn alive?" Malta demanded breathlessly. She hovered over the man but did not touch him.

Althea knelt beside her. Gingerly, she set her ringers to the side of the man's throat. Her face was still for an instant, and then she smiled up at her niece. "Reyn is alive, Malta." Wintrow had joined them. At Althea's words, he started, then gave his sister an incredulous smile.

As Wintrow smiled at his sister, something almost like jealousy flitted across Etta's face. In an instant, it was gone. She transferred her gaze to Ke

"I did." He became aware that the gathered crew closely followed this conversation. He softened his voice. "And you came. As you always have." He smiled at her. There. She and the crew could make whatever they wanted out of that. He gestured at the man at his feet. "What is this?"

"The dragon dropped him," Etta explained.

"So, of course, you picked him up," Ke

"Vivacia said we should," one of the men from Sorcor's boat explained nervously. Was King Ke

"He's Reyn Khuprus, a Rain Wilder. My sister is betrothed to him." Wintrow uttered these amazing words quite calmly. "Sa alone knows how he managed to find her here, but he did. Help me turn him over," he added. He seized the man by one shoulder. As he tugged, Reyn groaned. His hands scrabbled weakly against the deck.

Althea crouched beside Wintrow. "Wait. Give him time to clear his lungs," she suggested as he began to cough. Reyn wheezed, lifted his head slightly from the deck, and then let it sag back. "Malta?" he asked in a thick voice.

She gasped and sprang back from him. She threw her hands up before her face. "No!" she cried out, then wheeled and jostled her way through the crowd. Etta stared after her in consternation.

"What was that about?" she asked of anyone.

Before anyone could answer, a lookout shouted, "Sir! The Jamaillian ships are coming back!"

It was Ke

Ke

Vivacia watched the oncoming ships with him but her mind was elsewhere. "How is the Rain Wilder?"

"Alive," he replied briefly.

"The dragon brought him. Here, to me."

"Wintrow seems to think the dragon dropped him off for his sister," Ke

"That would make sense," the ship said thoughtfully. "They belong together."

"As much sense as anything that has happened today. What are the odds of such a thing happening, Vivacia? Out of all the ships around us, the dragon drops Malta's beloved by the correct one to find her."

"There was nothing random about it. The dragon came seeking Malta and found her. But-" The figurehead slowly sca

He had no answer to that. The very idea of it a

She didn't reply. "Well?" he asked her at last. Her expression was odd. What was wrong with her today? He'd brought her back to the ship. What more could she want from him? Why must she want it right now?

"I've something to tell you. It's important."

"More important than our survival?" He glanced back at the oncoming ships. Would they halt and parley first, or just attack? Best not to take a chance. "Send Jola and Wintrow to me as well," he commanded her.

"I shall," she promised. She took a breath and added, "I'm pregnant. I carry your child." Then she turned and walked away from him.

Her words froze time around him. He suddenly felt he stood, not on a deck, but encapsulated in a moment. So many paths spread out from this instant, and in so many directions. A baby. A child. The seed of a family. He could be a father, as his own father had been. No. Better. He could protect his own son. His father had tried to protect him, but his father had failed. He could be a king and his son a prince. Or he could be rid of Etta, take her somewhere, leave her there and go on, with no one to depend on him, no one he could fail. His thoughts did not spin; they rattled in his brain like stones. Maybe she was lying. Maybe she was wrong. Did he want a child? What if it was a girl?

"Would you still name her Paragon?" the charm on his wrist whispered viciously. It gave a low laugh. "Destiny no longer hovers. Some of it has flown off with the dragon. It decrees that the Lords of the Three Realms will fly again. The rest of today's destiny has fallen upon your head. It weighs a bit more than a crown, does it not?"

"Leave me alone," Ke

Now Etta would start it all over again. Was she mad? Didn't she know what must come? Eventually, of course, he'd have to hurt the child. Not because he wanted to, but because it was inevitable. This moment marked one end of the pendulum's swing. Ride it they must, until it peaked at the other end, the place where he was Igrot and Igrot was he. Then the child must step up to play the role that had once been Ke