“Your Majesty!” Alfred was livid. “I can’t fly a ship! It takes skill, years of practice!” The chamberlain’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, he’s dead?”
Bane glared at him defiantly, but his gaze dropped before Alfred’s. The chamberlain was no longer the buffoon; his eyes were suddenly strangely compelling and intense, and the boy found their penetrating stare highly uncomfortable.
“He got what he deserved,” Bane said sullenly. “He was an assassin, hired by King Stephen to kill me. I’ve killed him first, that’s all.”
“You?” Alfred’s gaze went to the feather. “Or your father?”
Bane looked confused. His lips opened, then clamped shut. His hand clenched around the amulet as if to hide it, and he began to stammer.
“No need to lie,” Alfred said, sighing. “I’ve known for a long time. Longer than your father and mother, or should I say your adopted father and mother, although adoption implies a choice, and they never had one. What kind of poison did you give him, Bane?”
“Him? Why are you worried about him? Are you just going to let us crash?” the prince screeched shrilly.
“He’s the only one who can save us! What did you use on him?” Alfred demanded, reaching out his hand to grasp hold of the boy and shake the information out of him if need be.
The prince darted backward, slipping and sliding across the slanting deck until he was brought to a halt by the bulkhead. Turning, he stared through the window. The prince let out a whoop.
“The elven ships! We’re heading straight for them! We don’t need that filthy murderer. The elves will save us!”
“No! Wait! Bane! It was the berries, wasn’t it?”
The boy dashed out of the steerage way. Behind him, Bane heard Alfred shouting that elves were dangerous, but he paid no attention.
“I’m prince of Uylandia,” he said to himself, climbing the ladder to the top deck. There, clinging with his hands to the rails, he entwined his legs through them to hold on securely. “They won’t dare lay a hand on me. I’ve still got the enchantment. Trian thinks he broke it, but that’s only because it was what I wanted him to think. Father says we mustn’t take a chance, and so we had to kill the assassin to get his ship. But I know the enchantment’s still with me! Now I’ll have an elf ship. I’ll make them fly me to my father, and he and I will rule them. We’ll rule them all! Just as we planned.
“Hey!” Bane shouted. Holding on to the rail with his legs, he let loose long enough to wave his arms. “Hey, there! Help! Help us!”
The elves were far below, too far away to hear the boy’s cry. Besides, they had other, more important things on their minds- such as staying alive. Looking down from his perch, Bane could see the rebel ship and the imperial warship locked together, and he wondered what was going on. He was too high to see the blood spilling over the deck. He could not hear the screams of the cable-haulers, trapped in their harnesses, being dragged through the splintered hulls, nor could he hear the song of the rebel elves who attempted, even as they defended themselves, to turn the hearts of their brothers.
Bright-colored dragonwings beat the air frantically or swung, broken, from snapped cables. Long grappling hooks attached to ropes held one ship firmly to the other. Elven warriors swung, hand over hand, along the cables to board the ship or leapt through the air to land on the deck. Far beneath them, the Maelstrom swirled and boiled, its black clouds with frothy white fringes lit purple by the incessantly flaring lightning.
Bane stared down at the elves eagerly. He felt no fear, only a heady exhilaration caused by the rushing of the wind in his face, the novelty of his situation, and the excitement of his father’s plans coming to fulfillment. The dragonship’s fall had slowed somewhat. Alfred had managed to pull the wings out far enough so that the ship was no longer tumbling headfirst into the Maelstrom. But it was out of control and falling still, drifting downward in a lazy spiral.