Page 73 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

“Slaves of the queen,” the scarred man said. “Even better. She’ll pay well to have them back. A reward for returned property, and a finder’s fee.”

“Why would you do that?” My hand drifted toward my dagger. “There are gemstone in that mountain. More than you could carry. Why bother with people when the gems are sitting right there for the taking?”

His grin faltered, just slightly. “There’s a rumor about a giant creature, big enough to take a man whole. Nobody who’s gone in after those stones has come back out.”

“I was just in there.” I shrugged. “There’s no creature left to fear.”

A ripple of voices went through the riders behind him, glances exchanged, the kind of uncertain shifting that meant some of them were thinking about turning their horses toward the mountain. For a moment I thought I had convinced them.

The leader’s mouth curved again. “I’ll take the gemstones.” His eyes moved over our group. “And I’ll take all of you.”

The riders tightened their circle. Jina’s hand found her dagger. Minha pressed close to my side, and Ranis stepped in front of Hellena and the children, for all the good it would do against this many blades.

“Stay close together,” I said over my shoulder to the children. “And close your eyes.”

I didn’t want them to see the violence. They’d already seen much hardship in life.

Hellena pulled Hope against her and began herding the others backward.

The thief nearest to me with red hair swung a sword. I jerked back. His eyes danced with humor. “Not bad for a lady.”

“I’m no lady,” I ground out. “I’ve killed many men.”

“Sure you have.” He jumped off his horse. “If I catch you, I get to keep you.”

“You touch her, you die.” The voice came from the tree line clearing.

A figure emerged from the shadow of the trees, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Theron, his coat billowing behind him with the breeze, a sword at his hip. No hat this time.

My heart thudded, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the sight of him, or the fact he happened to be here by pure luck.

No crew at his back, no ship behind him, nothing but the forest and a sword. A pirate with no crew—no, not a pirate—the true Crown Prince of Caelum, walking straight into a circle of mounted swordsmen like the odds didn’t apply to him.

Laughter rippled through the riders. “One man,” someone called out. “Against all of us?”

“You shouldn’t laugh.” Theron’s eyes moved past the leader, to me, something unreadable passing across his face. “These women and one man over there are great fighters.” Then, almost as an afterthought, the corner of his mouth tilted. “Of course, so am I. Besides, you don’t want to mess with Seaborns.”

“Seaborn.” The one with red hair chuckled. “They’re all dead.”

Theron stepped closer and waved a hand in our direction. “Do they look like ghosts to you?” He rolled his eyes. “Grow some balls, admit defeat, and leave before I kill you all.”

More laughter echoed.

“I’d like to see a ghost try to stop me,” the thief with red hair ground out, drawing his sword.

Behind me, Hellena took a sharp intake of breath, and the children whimpered.

Theron growled and charged. I didn’t wait for his permission or direction to strike. Neither did Minha, who pounced on the nearest bandit like she’d been born to fight.

Two weapons flashed—one the shell dagger that dropped a man screaming, his chest turning dark, the other the pick she’d grabbed from the mountain. So very Minha.

Jina fought tighter, smaller movements, every strike landing with precision. When a man screamed from the burning, she winced as if she could feel his pain. Ranis fought beside her, watching her back, wielding a fallen sword.

Theron fought with brutal ease, even surrounded by five. He landed a blow across one bandit’s chest, pierced another through the throat, sliced a third’s ankles, and drove his blade through the fourth’s belly. The last one ran.

The children huddled low with their eyes pressed shut, small hands clamped over their ears against the screaming and the clash of steel. Hope buried her face in Hellena’s side. A couple of the older girls didn’t look away. They wanted to see. And I would have done the same.

I’d just jabbed my dagger into a man’s stomach when someone grabbed me from behind, twisting my arm until the blade slipped from my grip. The lead man towered over me, stinking of ale and sweat. “Stop! Or I’ll slit her throat.”