The Bright and Breaking Sea (A Captain Kit Brightling Novel Book 1)

What with her appreciation of a member of the Beau Monde, the magical storm, and the betrayal by Kingsley, Kit was running out of things to be surprised about. She’d received the queen’s more detailed orders, which advised the Diana had been fully provisioned and her hull patches already reinforced. Five additional ships would participate in the search. One would sail toward Forstadt, two toward Frisia, one toward Montgraf, and one toward Fort de la Mer. Captain Perez, Kit’s former commander, would lead the fleet. And the queen gave Kit the option of coordinating with Perez and the other ships as Kit preferred, and of using her Alignment as she wished.

Kit knew it was likely the most freedom she’d ever be afforded in a naval mission, and she intended to take full advantage. She also intended to take advantage of Perez’s experience, and sent the captain a message offering her thoughts.

And more surprising yet: When Kit walked down the dock at the Crown Quay toward the Diana, she found Captain Smith staring up at the ship. Smith’s ship, the Delphine, was anchored on the other side of the quay.

“Go aboard,” she told Grant. “I’ll talk to her.”

“I demand a full report,” Grant said, but moved to the Diana.

Kit strode to the woman. “Captain Smith.”

“Captain Brightling.” She swallowed, looked visibly uncomfortable. Which Kit found fascinating.

“The Delphine was initially assigned to travel to Frisia, one of two ships with that mission. I requested, and both Admiral Lawrence and Captain Perez have granted, permission for the Delphine to escort the Diana and support her search for Kingsley.”

Perez, the squadron commander. Lawrence, Tasha Howard’s father.

“And why did you do that?”

“Because you were right about Forstadt, and they—and I—were wrong.” She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t enjoy being wrong, but I prefer to learn from my failures. And I imagine the odds of your finding Kingsley first are fairly high. You may need guns. I can provide them.”

Kit watched her for a moment, taking the woman’s measure. “You’ll follow my lead? Sail where I direct?”

“Right behind you,” Smith agreed. “In whatever measure you need.”

Kit considered. “Do you have a spot on board where we could secure some prisoners?”

Smith’s smile was wide. “I believe, Captain, that the Delphine can accommodate you there.”

She checked the Diana’s hull, inside and out. The Queenscliffe repair had held, and the Crown’s own shipwrights had reinforced it. The topmast they’d lost at Finistère remained secure, Tamlin already aloft. No Louisa this time, given the risk, and Kit expected the crew would miss the smallest sailor. But there was one new addition. She caught Cooper’s eye in the crowd, and they exchanged a nod.

When Kit was content the ship was ready, she had Jin call the crew.

“Our mission is singular,” Kit told them from the helm. “We will find Charles Kingsley’s ship, and we will bring them home so Kingsley can be held accountable for his crimes against the Isles.

“We will be escorted by the Delphine.” She lifted a hand before they could growl their displeasure, as lips were already curling. “Escorted,” Kit said again. “We will determine our course. The Delphine will accompany us only to assist in the capture of Kingsley. The Diana leads this mission. And we will succeed in it.”

She let them have their hurrahs before turning to Jin, Grant, Tamlin, Simon.

“Well, Captain,” Simon said, his charts already spread on the steering cabinet. “Where are we going?”

“The queen has sent ships toward Forstadt, Frisia, Montgraf, Gallia,” Kit said. “We go where we choose, where we think Kingsley is most likely to run.”

“And where do you think that is?” Simon asked.

“Let’s start with where I don’t think he is. I don’t think he’s brave enough to run to Gerard. Kingsley is a coward, and while he may fashion himself to be a supporter and an ally, there’s no protection Gerard can offer him on Montgraf. And if Gerard is smart, he’d disclaim any involvement in treason within the Isles. Not until his position is stronger.

“Not Gallia for the same reason. He may have contacts there, but there’s no obvious Gallic connection to his treachery. Forstadt has been exhausted of its resources—magic, lumber, solitude.”

“That leaves Frisia,” Jin said, and Kit nodded.

“He’s been working with members of the Frisian consulate. The Guild has funded the construction of the new warship,” she added, thinking of what the queen called it, “and they’d likely have promised him protection in the event he was caught.”

Jin snorted. “The Guild won’t protect him from anything, especially if the queen offers a bounty for his delivery. The highest bidder always wins.”

“Agreed, but they wouldn’t have told him that. Quite the contrary—they probably told him he’d be celebrated as a hero.” Kit paused, considered. “The Forebearer is ahead of us, but they lack an experienced captain, and the ship is slower than ours. We make sail, as quickly as possible, toward Hofstad, as that’s where the Guild is headquartered. And we fly with all canvas. If we’re lucky, we catch Kingsley before he reaches port, disappears into the countryside.”

“Or gets a knife in the gullet,” Jin said.

“As likely,” Kit confirmed. And because he’d earned the right, she looked at Grant. “Thoughts, Colonel?”

His lips curved. “To Frisia,” he said, “with the caveat that Kingsley is likely sailing on fear, and may not be thinking as rationally as we are.”

Kit nodded. “Understood.” And because she was captain, she resigned herself to the next bit. “I’m going to do the receipts. I’ll come up when we’ve reached open water, if not before.”

She gave the Saint James one final glance, then nodded at her crew, stepped toward the companionway, and heard Simon whisper behind her, “I don’t know if I care for their agreeing so much. It’s . . . off-putting.”

She grinned all the way to her cabin.

Receipts. Tea. Receipts. Tea. A glance through the windows to check the ship’s progress. Receipts.

This time, they reached open water before Kit’s work was complete, so she stuffed it into the writing desk and returned to the deck as they passed Surrey-on-Sea, the Narrow Sea ahead of them.

It was time to check the current. She’d been anticipating this moment, and not entirely for the better, as she wasn’t sure what she’d find. She waited until water surrounded them and they’d made the gentle turn to port across the Northern Sea toward the Frisian coast.

In short, she waited until she couldn’t wait any longer, because if there was magic to be had, the Isles and the Diana had need of it.

She looked up, found Grant watching her. He nodded encouragement, and she nodded back, then closed her eyes.

She reached down, through water cool and clear, through darkness and light. And when she felt the current below her, nearly wept with relief. It was still weak, even this far from Forstadt. But it was whole. Thinner, she thought, as if the current from the surrounding ocean had spread to cover the deficit. She didn’t know if such a thing was possible, had never heard of it. And while she was pleased at the regeneration—perhaps humans wouldn’t destroy the world completely—the damage in this part of the ocean had been relatively minimal. She didn’t know if larger wounds, if the removal of the current nearer Forstadt, could be resolved. A chilling thought, given they were more likely to need the magic the closer they sailed to Frisia.

So they’d use the advantage while they could, she decided, and opened her eyes to find Jin, Simon, and Grant staring at her.

“What?” she asked, a bit unnerved.

“You were muttering, Captain,” Jin said. “Something about removal and regeneration?”

“The current is stronger here than it was,” she said, straightening her jacket and hoping she’d not sounded like an idiot. “But I fear it will not last.” She looked up at the billowing canvas, nodded. “Hold on,” she said, and touched the current.

As they sailed northeast, she touched the current sparingly, not wanting to hinder its healing. And although the first contact sent them running across the sea, the second attempt a few hours later offered little.

The Diana spent the rest of the day and night in hard winds, with much tacking and, at least from its captain, growing doubt that she’d guessed incorrectly and had chosen the wrong course.

“It’s taking too long,” she murmured more than once, squinting at the horizon as she searched for her quarry.

And then, at noon on the second day, Tamlin spotted the Forebearer’s red jibs.

“Treasonous bastard’s sail ho!” was her alert. Which Kit found entirely appropriate under the circumstances.

Unfortunately for the Forebearer, either treasonous bastard and his accomplices were miserable sailors, or they’d faced down weather the Diana had missed entirely. There was a hole in the mainsail big enough to jump through, and the sails flapped rather pitifully.

Not even Kingsley had bravado enough to run from the Crown Command’s fastest ship and one of its largest frigates. One shot from the Delphine over the port bow and the Forebearer turned into the wind, which rendered its sails useless. It was a sign of surrender.

“Damn,” Kit muttered as they moved to intercept. “I was hoping for a bit of a challenge.”

“Maybe he’ll try fisticuffs,” Jin offered hopefully, “and you can fight it out.”

They came alongside, the Delphine to starboard and the Diana to port, and all the Forebearer’s sailors—including Kingsley—on deck with blades already down. Being the biggest ship, the Delphine would transmit the prisoners. The away team, some of whom Kit recognized from the island, prepared to muscle the sailors aboard.

“Take all but Kingsley,” Kit told them, when she’d jumped the void onto the smaller ship, Grant and Sampson behind her. “We’ll speak with him here first.”

They followed her directions without complaint, pushed the prisoners onto the Delphine over the gangplank they’d erected between the ships, leaving Kit, Grant, and Sampson with Kingsley.

They searched him, tied his hands. Then searched the captain’s quarters, put him there. Sampson shoved Kingsley into a chair. “Wait,” Kingsley said.

They ignored him.

When she was confident he’d been secured, Kit met Grant in the corridor. “Search the ship. Find what you can. Perhaps he hasn’t turned over any documents yet.”

Grant nodded, glanced back at Kingsley. “I certainly hope, when I return, that he looks worse for wear.”

She was so angry with Kingsley that the fury had gone hard and cold as ice. “You’re a traitor,” she said, when she’d calmed enough to speak coherently.

“You’re naive,” Kingsley said. “It is only a matter of time before Gerard takes the throne again.”

“Because the Guild demands it?”

“They understand practicality.”

“You have no loyalty to the queen,” Kit said. “To the Isles. To its independence?”

He looked at her. “I have loyalty to myself, and I’m wise enough to see what’s coming. Many on the Continent supported Gerard’s rule, and they have the funds to see it happen. There’s time yet for you to make the same decision. To accept his return, and put yourself in the best position when he does. I’m sure Gerard would find a use for the Diana, and for you.”

“Ah, but that’s the difference between us. I’m not a traitor, I don’t trade lives for my own comfort.”

“I’ve killed no one.”

“Kingsley, you’re well past one. You gave up Dunwood. You told the Frisians on Forstadt that we were coming. You intend to hand over to our enemies the locations of every ship in the fleet.”

“There was a treaty. We’re all allies now.”

God, she wanted to wipe that smug smile off his weaselly little face. But they didn’t have time for this. For any of it.

“Where is the ship, Kingsley?”

He just shook his head, looked away.

“Where are the documents you stole from the Crown Command?”

Still nothing.

“All right,” Kit said. “If you’re so confident they’re your allies, we’ll leave you here, in the ocean, alone on this ship and tied to this chair, and see how long it takes for them to look for you.” She looked at Sampson. “How long, do you think?”

Sampson just snorted. “Why would they turn around for him?”

Kit nodded sadly. “We agree there.” She looked back at Kingsley. “Last chance.”

“You won’t leave me here.”

Kit just sighed, gestured Sampson toward the door. “Let’s go.” And they walked out, closed the door behind them. Moved back to the deck, where the search of the ship continued.

“Anything?” she asked as Grant emerged from another companionway.

“Nothing. The ship was mostly empty—no cargo—and we’ve found no safes, drawers, loose boards, canvas bags, or anything else that might hold them. He must have met another ship.”

Kit nodded. “Maybe the gun brig, or some other Frisian vessel, met him off the coast.”

“Because they expected we’d look for him first.”

“And they didn’t much care whether he was protected or not,” Kit said. “The intelligence is what matters.”

“I presume he’s given nothing up?”

“Nothing useful,” Kit said, and the smile that crossed Grant’s face was terrifying.

“My turn to try.”

He was a coward. Despite the treason, the bravado, Kingsley was a coward.

One quick punch in the abdomen from Grant, and Kingsley doubled over, retched onto the floor. Grant looked at him with disgust. “Men have gone to their graves because of you, and you can’t even take a punch. Just wait until you’re in prison.”

“To hell with you,” Kingsley muttered.

Grant crouched in front of him, hands linked. “I’ll ask you one more time. Where are the documents?”

“They’re on the new ship—the warship. We met the convoy yesterday off Fort de la Mer and delivered them.”

That explained why it took so long to find the damned Forebearer, Kit thought. “How many in the convoy?”

“Eight. Seven frigates and the warship.”

Grant rose. “And where are they going, Kingsley?”

“I don’t know.”

Grant turned on him, had him hauled up and out of his chair before Kingsley could squeak a response. “Where are they going?” Grant said again, each word a low threat.

“Hofstad,” Kingsley said. “They’re going to Hofstad.”

Still holding him up, Grant watched him, expression mild. “Keep going.”

“The Guild headquarters—inside the castle. That’s where the decisions are made. We were to rendezvous just off the coast. We deliver the documents first, then we travel separately to the rendezvous point to confuse anyone looking for us. Then the Guild gets us into the city.”

Not just arrogant, Kit thought, but rather stupid if he thought the Guild had any intention of meeting him anywhere. They’d already gotten what they wanted from him.

Apparently reaching the same conclusion, Grant dropped him down again.

“What’s the signal?” Kit asked. “The one you’d use to approach the envoy and not get blown out of the water.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never catch them. The ship is too fast.”

“Let me worry about the speed,” Kit said with a thin smile. “What’s the signal?”

To punctuate the demand, Grant took a threatening step toward him.

Kingsley wiped his mouth. “Two pennants. Red above blue. If the plan is on, the response is yellow above blue.”

“Any particular movements?” Kit asked. “Positioning of the ship?”

“No. Just alongside.”

“You do understand the cost if you’re lying?”

“It hardly matters to me,” Kingsley said. “You’re going to leave me here.”

“Of course we aren’t,” Kit said, “we’re going to take you with us on the Diana. So if you’ve told us the wrong signal, they’ll be blowing you out of the water as well.”

His face paled. “Two pennants,” he said, and swallowed hard. “Blue above red.”

“Much better,” Kit said, and turned on her heel for the door.

“Can I have some water, please?”

Kit just snorted. He might as well have asked for tea with the queen. He was just as likely to get it.

“We’ll see who wins!” Kingsley called out. “We’ll see who ends up a prisoner when all is said and done.”

“Yes,” Kit murmured. “We will.”

They’d found Kingsley and the Forebearer, but not the documents he’d stolen. And no sailor in the Isles fleet would be secure until they did. Jin took command of the Forebearer, along with a crew of sailors from the Diana and the Delphine. They secured Kingsley on the Delphine, and they prepared to sail.

Kit searched for the current, but knew what she’d find. A shadow of what had been before, the signature of what had been stripped away. It wouldn’t help the Diana, but nor would it help the warship.

Four hours later, still no current beneath them, Tamlin called out, “Sails ho!”

Eight ships along the eastern horizon, running toward Frisia.

“Glass,” Kit said, and without looking away, felt it placed into her palm.

She raised it, and stared. Seven of them were frigates. But the one in the middle was different.

Here was Gerard’s warship. It looked in reality just as it had in the plans: cabinet across its middle, two stunted masts. Those masts were full of canvas now, the ship streaming toward Frisia under wind power. That, she suspected, because of the damage done by the explosion at Forstadt. The cabinet was scarred, a corner buckled where magic warped it.

Good, Kit thought. Maybe they’ll have learned some lesson from it. She was relieved at the state of it, hadn’t admitted until now that she’d been concerned—seriously concerned—about whether the Diana could survive an attack by the warship.

If they’d seen the Diana, they hadn’t yet moved to attack. It was not logical, however, that two ships—three if the Forebearer was included—should attack a line of eight. Those odds were so unfavorable even Marten’s wouldn’t insure them. But they couldn’t simply sail home, leaving Gerard’s new navy to set its own course, wreak its own havoc.

They had to engage—not in a line, not with broadsides and cannons—but with ingenuity. With brains and speed.

And homemade explosives.