Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2) by Kelly St Clare

Author:Kelly St Clare [St Clare, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

A low buzzing sounded in Ebba’s ears. What did the tribe wench just say?

Hands clawed to reach her. She blinked at her fathers, who were being forced to their knees by the row of warriors behind them.

“Ebba,” Locks cried. “We’re sorry, lass. We didn’t want ye to find out this way.”

Find out what? She didn’t understand.

But her heart had frozen.

Numb, she glanced from the crying woman to the frozen chief to her shouting fathers. Cosmo stood alone, and his eyes were full of pity as he watched the scene before him. His eyes dropped to her arm and as blood pounded in her ears, she dropped her gaze there as well. To where the woman rested her slender hand on top of Ebba’s forearm.

Brown on brown.

They had the same skin.

In her confusion over whether to question the difference in color between her and her fathers, she hadn’t yet thought past the fact that she wasn’t theirs. In no way had Ebba made the connection to where she was really from. She hadn’t thought her skin was as dark as that of a tribesperson, but with her arm next to the arm of this woman, the evidence was . . . .

. . . Undeniable.

Had Cosmo known from the start? Was that why he’d asked about the way she spoke on the very first day she met him? She’d assumed it was her pirate lingo, not her skin. Had Jagger known, too? Was that why he looked at her so strangely and shrugged away the guard’s confusion when he’d let them out of the hut? Regardless of the answers to any of that, her dark skin certainly explained why the chief had asked what tribe Ebba was from.

They all thought she was a tribesperson.

And her mind was spinning so hard that nausea rose through her throat because Ebba believed them.

“I’m yer daughter?” she whispered through cracked lips.

The watching crowd was still, and Ebba winced violently as her question carried easily through the hut, sounding unbearably weak.

The woman nodded, still blubbering.

“Nay, ye’re our daughter,” Plank roared, making to stand. A young warrior strode forward and wrenched back his spear in readiness to strike.

Ebba took two steps and caught the spear, halting the downward movement of his weapon. She snapped him in the nose with her other fist. He dropped the spear, and she turned the tables, bringing the wooden end down on his head. The warrior crumpled.

“Little nymph, let us explain,” Plank pleaded behind her.

She couldn’t turn.

She couldn’t look at them.

Instead, Ebba focused on Jagger, whose face was an expressionless mask, listening as the warriors dragged her shouting fathers away. He held her gaze, not looking away, and not blinking.

“Not him,” Ebba said hoarsely, pointing at Cosmo. “He’s sick.”

Surprisingly, the chief nodded. Cosmo came to stand beside her. “Mistress Fairisles—”

“Kill the others,” the chief said.

Terror clamped her stomach in a vice. “Nay!”

The room went quiet, and the woman finally stopped her tears. She looked at Ebba in shock. “You do not want them dead, tamahine?”

Ebba didn’t know what she wanted.

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