"That's on Navilir, fourth cycle of this month by our calculations." Her dark-haired goon provides.
"Why then?" I ask, not understanding my sister's purpose for any of this.
Svenja shrugs as she sips from her mug, plummeting the small inkling of hope that had started to rise. "I wasn't necessarily in the position to ask her my several dozen questions, and even if I did, they never would've been answered, and we'd still be where we are now." Because she was already in Xaxias's clutches by then.
Calm as ever, Garrison steps forward and asks, "How many in your fleet?"
"One-hundred and seventy-five fully crewed and working ships sail," her other goon states proudly.
"Shit." I agree with Benny. One-hundred and seventy-five ships that Fauna practically gifted us for our fight against Xaxias. That's one-hundred and seventy-five ships now sailing to Vandaria's border, and the last of them – the Gypsy Sin that they mentioned earlier – should be there within the next cycle.
I nearly drop my own mug when I realize what she did. She knew that we'd spend all of our time trying to find her, that building a force to contend with Xaxias's wasn't even a thought that passed through our minds. I didn't even think of it. She knew what we'd do, so she planned ahead and called in a favor owed. A damn big favor that will likely cost Svenja more than she wishes to pay, but that's how a life debt works, I suppose. That's how war works - and this will undoubtedly turn into a war with the way Sibella talked about Xaxias and his world-ending dreams.
"I've given you all the knowledge I possess," Svenja says, pulling my attention back to the room. "Care to return the deed?"
The Bhaltayr all turn their heads toward me. I know her best, I know what she'll likely do and how much her words are worth. We've given her the bare minimum information that the rumors can confirm, and I'm not entirely sure I trust her with the rest of the details. She is a pirate after all. Common assumption would be that I should trust her because of her life debt promise to my sister, but I only knew her for a short three months, and in those months I never heard her make a single promise. I don't know if her word is as trustful and final as mine and Fauna's. I don't know for certain that she won't go off rambling about our past, present, and future to the highest bidder. But there is one person who may be able to snuff out the lies.
"I'm not the one who gets to decide that."
Her brows practically fly off of her forehead. "Who could possibly hold that authority over her own brother?"
I turn to Darius, finding him holding his cup of tea with a rather loose grip. The fire has faded to slowing embers, though the room still holds its warmth. I don't know the extent to which his power can reach, but if he can sense Ethan and Gabe's sexual desire, then perhaps he can sense Svenja's true intentions. He hasn't spoken about which lengths his power has grown outside of what he uses in training, but I've been watching him closer outside of training, and there are things he's not telling us. It's a long shot to bet on something that may not be there, I know, but it's the best shot we have. Otherwise, we're going to have to rely on my outdated five-year-old opinion of her.
He takes a deep breath, the embers turning brighter and dimmer in time with the rise and fall of his chest. The wood makes a sudden popping sound. Sparks fly unalarmingly, but one doesn't fade as quickly as the others do. Instead, it rises to Darius's other upturned hand and lands in his palm. The second it touches his skin it bursts into a singular bright blue flame that illuminates the rest of his shadowed face. I glance at Svenja, already seeing the puzzle piece slide into place in her mind as she stares at Darius, then at the Bhaltayr, counting their numbers.
Her grin couldn't be anything but malicious. "Soul sister my ass."
"Remember, Comandante," Darius croons quietly, his voice low and full of both warning and a threat. He turns toward her, his face colder than I've seen it go in cycles. Even Garrison seems to pause and get concerned. "Your ships are made of wood."
His pointer finger flicks inward and the blue flame jumps into the hearth, reigniting it with a large burst. The four pirates go rigid, faces sharpening into cut angles and hands falling to the weapons strapped onto them. The Bhaltayr thankfully don't react, listening to the lesson I told them to never react without thought and simply tighten their bodies in preparation. A raise of Svenja's hand and her men instantly fall back against the couch.
She meets Darius's stare with a challenging one of her own. "I'll remember your threat, so long as you remember mine, Prince Darius. Or is it King? From what rumors say, you now inherit two kingdoms by rightful rule."
I gauge the distance between me and the gaping Pernells who sit in the corner and stare at Darius as if he lit his whole body of fire. The Bhaltayr tensed at the declaration of Darius's identity, and much as I knew she had figured it out long before she sat down, I don't like it either. Ears still listen.
Garrison reads the look I give him and doesn't react, but I see the understanding in his eyes as Svenja leans forward, planting her elbows on her knees.
"Heed my words, King Darius. My entire fleet is currently headed for your border, and should I get wind of her death and your failure to get to her in time, yours will be next."
"If I fail then I'll hand you the sword," he declares strongly. His friends whip their heads to him, but he ignores them. "But I'm not failing, and she's not dying."
Svenja's cheek lifts just slightly at the certainty of his words. "And I won't betray her."
The room settles as the two seem to come to an unspoken agreement, but the tension still lingers, keeping eyes alert and hands ready to draw. Not necessarily the grandest of introductions, but it's a start.
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