Her two tight braids have come undone in the skirmish, and her hair frizzes around her face in a brown cloud. “We could tie her up. Leave her on a rock on the Lakelander side. And be on our way.”
The threat is so ludicrous I have to laugh. “Tie me up with what? I’m a strongarm.”
She immediately retreats, flushing. “Just a suggestion.”
“We should keep her,” Gill argues. “If that Silver strikes again, I’d rather have one on our side to trade. Or to help.”
“Help bury you, more like,” Riette grumbles under her breath.
The captain lets it all pass like the current, standing firm as the crew chatters around him. Suddenly he shouts over their words, quieting them all. “Hallow, you got room for four more on your keel?”
On his deck, the other captain hesitates. He surveys his boat, already crowded with cargo, crew, and his own passengers. “Yeah, I suppose,” he says after a long moment.
Ashe wastes no time and turns around with a snap. He waves Daria, Jem, and their children across the deck, gesturing to Hallow’s ship.
“Get your things. He’s your captain now,” he says, his words trembling with the weight of a command. Then he looks to his crew with the same fervor. “We make for the confluence. Lose him on the Great River. He’ll be beyond his own borders. Let him fight through the Freelands if he wants his princess so badly.”
His princess. I feel sick at the words, their implication. And their truth. Ashe is right: I belong to that foul person; I’ve belonged to him as long as I can remember. No matter what I have to say about it.
And still I feel the need to warn these Reds. “Orrian won’t be deterred by borders,” I say, pacing after Ashe.
He glares at me for a second. “Do I look stupid to you?” Leaning against the rail, he shouts to Hallow’s crew and his own. “Put out the word to every boat and raft you pass: there’s a Lakelander prince in our lands. That should set the bounty hunters foaming.”
Confusion steals over me. I narrow my eyes. “Bounty hunters?”
“You think smugglers are the only lawless kind in the Freelands?” he says, throwing me a dark smirk. “If the right bounty crew gets word of your prince, they’ll hunt him down before he can hunt you.”
I blink, trying to imagine what kind of bounty crew would be required to stop Orrian. But far from the Lakelands, with only his guards, without any kind of aid from his kingdom . . . It’s certainly a start.
I bite my lip, then nod. With one hand, I gesture for the rifle.
Ashe is quick to give it back.
“At least it’s a plan.”
The two keels move downriver at speed, putting a safe distance between us and Orrian’s assault point. He’ll be on the move again by now, but farther inland, away from the river’s edge. There’s no more cover on this stretch, and he’ll certainly be moving by transport. The roads are some miles north, giving us time to make up ground. We pause every fifteen minutes, giving Hallow time to get ahead of us. Hour by hour, the distance between the boats spreads, until he’s out of view even on the longest stretches of river. Our speed picks up too, between the motor and the strengthening current. I assume we must be getting close to the confluence, where the Ohius meets the Great River. Where no land, on either side of the water, answers to a Silver crown.
Every second ticks like a clock, grating inside my skull. I clench my teeth against the sensation. Two hours since the attack. Three. Four. I have the sneaking suspicion that Orrian is enjoying this. He always did like to play with his food. Hope is not something I’m used to, and while the captain seems to have faith in his river and his people, I cannot.
I’m glad the children are off the boat, and their mothers too. At the very least I won’t have them dragging at the back of my mind. They’re on a dangerous enough journey without adding a fugitive Silver to the equation.
I’m thinking of them when the captain eases up to me, this time with less of an attitude. He leans over the stern at my side, elbows planted on the rail. His sleeves are rolled up, showing more scars and fading bruises. River life is not easy for these people, not by a long shot.