'An absolute bear-hug of a book!' SANGU MANDANNA, on TIL DEATH DO US BARD
Fated Winds and Promising Seas is a queer fantasy, perfect for fans of Legends and Lattes and Nettle and Bone.
The brilliant follow up standalone novel from Rose Black!
This time, when adventure calls, let love take the helm.
THEMES AND TROPES! Mental health rep, MM romance, found family, magical ships, safe and cared for, sharing the same room, gay romance novel, happily ever after!
'The romance, the adventure, the cast of characters. Every time I think about this book it puts a smile on my face' ****** READER REVIEW
'This book felt like a cozy game of D&D with a side of romance and I loved every minute of it!' ****** READER REVIEW
'I highly recommend this to anyone who likes cozy fantasy, D&D and/or Our Flag Means Death!' ****** READER REVIEW
'Sometimes you just find a book where you see the cover, find it intriguing, read the synopsis, find that even more intriguing and then you read the book and it's everything you wanted' ****** READER REVIEW
Release date:
November 19, 2024
Publisher:
Hodder & Stoughton
Print pages:
320
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The four walls of his cell had become Lucky’s closest companions. Four grey walls, cold hard stone. A small window with bars – iron – and a view of the sea below. One door. Heavy. Only opened for food and his daily sojourn outside. He hated most things about the prison, but the walls were constant, at least.
They never yelled or hit or accused.
His fingers traced the marks scratched on the wall. Thin vertical lines to denote the days of incarceration, given up after one year and seventeen days. On the wall by the window, he’d scratched his name, over and over, three years into his sentence, afraid if he didn’t, it would disappear. The rest of the cell was covered in images of birds, shells, fish, anything he could remember, etched into the stone with the blunt knife they gave him to eat.
One time it hadn’t been as blunt as they thought, and he wrote his name on his arm. His name was important, though he couldn’t say why, only that he couldn’t allow himself to forget it.
Under the bed was the sketch he kept hidden. The face of a boy, long hair, a scar above one temple. Lucky didn’t know who he was, but his heart ached for him. When the thunderstorm shook the castle and the waves crashed against the prison walls, Lucky would climb under his bed and wonder who the boy was, if he would ever see him again.
Footsteps down the hall. Outside time.
Lucky sat on his bed.
‘On your feet.’ The guard’s words were resigned, tired. They both knew what was coming. At least this was the one who was merely fed up with him, rather than the one who would take any opportunity to kick and punch.
Lucky stayed seated.
‘Come on, don’t be like this. We both know how it’s going to end.’
Once he’d tried to remember the guards’ names, match the shifting faces with those patterns of sounds, but after a while, it stopped mattering. They were all the guard, whether it was the bearded one, the kind one, the one who shouted. Guard. Walls. Inside. Outside. The details were irrelevant.
The guard sighed and unlocked the door. The lock went clunk. The door went creak. The footsteps went thud, thud, thud, exactly as they always did.
Lucky stayed seated.
The guard sighed again, and put a hand under Lucky’s arm, hauling him to his feet. Lucky tried to stay seated, but it didn’t matter, just as the guard said. They both knew how it was going to end. Still, the ritual felt important.
Ritual was about all he had left.
And he truly didn’t want to go outside. As the guard pushed him up the steps to the walled courtyard, he pulled back, his nails digging into the wall.
‘Nearly there,’ the guard said with a grunt. ‘I don’t know why you put up such a fight. If I had to spend all my time in a stone box, I’d treasure every moment of sunlight.’
Lucky couldn’t explain. Couldn’t express how much the sky terrified him, so far away. The four walls were safe, familiar. The sky changed. It sucked at him, hungry. The guard gave him a shove and he fell to his knees on the flagstones, clinging to a small plant that had pushed through the gap. He kept his eyes on the ground, his fingers tight around that speck of green. The sky pulled. One day it would pull him right out of here.
Away from the guard. From the walls. From everything that made sense.
Lucky didn’t want change.
The guard was on his arm again, pulling him to his feet. ‘Walk.’ He dragged Lucky a couple of steps. ‘It’s good for you. Do you want your muscles to waste away completely?’
Lucky kept his eyes firmly on the ground, on the line between the wall and the flagstone. He took one uncertain step, and then another. The air smelled of salt and the salt reminded him of blood and the wind was as cold as her smile.
Lucky shuddered at the thought of her. The girl with white hair who had destroyed his life. Ten years in solitary had made his memories crumple like wet paper, but he remembered her. Remembered that day. His mother bending down to examine something in the rock pool. The girl with white hair creeping closer. She’d smiled, a cold smile like a crescent moon, and she’d brought the rock down on his mother’s skull. Lucky couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream, even as she handed him the rock still dripping with his mother’s blood.
They’d found him there like that, shaking and sobbing. There was no sign of the girl, and no one would believe him. At his trial they called him moon-touched and locked him away to be forgotten.
‘Good, keep going,’ the guard said, oblivious to Lucky’s whirling thoughts. He blew on his hands and then wrapped his arms around himself. His tabard with the lattice threads of the church ruckled over his chainmail. ‘Got a bite in the air today, huh.’
Lucky ignored him and walked. One step after another. Three times around the courtyard. That’s all he had to do, and then they’d let him go back to the cell. It was safe in the cell.
He started the second circuit. There were forty-eight steps from each corner to the next. A hundred and ninety-two steps per circuit. Five hundred and seventy-six steps in total.
And then he’d be safe again.
‘Sea’s loud today,’ the guard said. ‘Bet there’s a storm brewing. That’s going to be fun tomorrow.’
Lucky said nothing. He carried on counting the steps. Two hundred and sixteen. Two hundred and seventeen.
The ground shook. Lucky stumbled, his shoulder slamming into the wall. He moaned, gripping with his fingernails to the damp wall, clinging on with all his strength. The wide sky beat down on him.
‘What was that?’ The guard rushed past him, leaning over the wall. Lucky stopped. The door to the cells was open, unprotected. He could go back.
He stopped, frozen, waiting for the guard to notice he wasn’t walking. The man’s attention was focused on something over the wall, out to sea. Lucky took a step towards the door. And then other. And another.
The ground shook again, throwing Lucky to the floor. He landed badly, slamming his hands against the flagstones.
‘Threads of fate, protect us,’ the guard murmured, his voice laced with horror. ‘Leviathan!’
As he bellowed the last word, a bell rang out. Lucky clapped his hands over his ears. He lay flat on the ground, waiting for either the ringing to stop or the sky to suck him up, but neither happened.
Slowly, he lowered his hands – they were doing nothing to drown out the noise – and looked around. The guard remained staring out over the wall at the sea. Lucky pushed himself to his feet and sprinted for the stairs. There was no shout from the guard, no attempt to stop him.
By the time he reached the bottom, his lungs burned and his legs ached. Above him, the guard yelled, then screamed, and Lucky couldn’t stop himself from turning around.
Something immense, scaly, and drooping towered over the wall. It had a huge maw, far bigger than any of the doors in the prison, surrounded by swaying fronds like seaweed. Seawater washed off the gleaming green-gold scales, pouring on to the prison yard. The guard backed away on his hands and knees, scuttling like a beetle. The thing swayed; an eye the size of the full moon stared down at him.
Lucky fled.
He sloshed down the passage, the cold water lapping at his ankles, slowing him down. The cold, lidless eye persisted in his mind, staring into his soul.
It was only when he reached the comforting solid wood of his cell door that he remembered the water wasn’t normal.
It flowed through the barred window of his cell, splashing down into a pool on the floor that reached halfway up the legs of the bed.
Lucky backed away.
His head throbbed as he stared at the cell, trying to process what he saw with the safe, constant cell he knew. Sometimes in the winter the rain came in and made puddles. Sometimes a bad storm whipped the waves up and they did the same. But not like this. Never like this.
Lucky sat on the bed.
He pressed his fists into his stomach. It hurt, worse than he could remember. He moaned, hoping it would bring the guards. He didn’t like the guards but they were normal, and normal was safe, or at least familiar, which was a form of safe.
But the guard was outside, under the watch of that eye.
Lucky wrapped his arms around himself, rocking slowly. He didn’t know what to do. His life was the cell, the routine of the guards, meals, outside walk. No one else came, except the doctor twice a year, occasionally more when he was ill. Other people had once, but not for many years.
The water was up to the edge of the bed now and he knew if he stayed here, he’d die. Would that be so bad? He’d get to see his mother again.
He closed his eyes.
An unearthly wail filled the air. It raced down Lucky’s spine, making the hair on his arms stand on end. The eye filled his mind again and he shivered uncontrollably, his hands slapping against his thighs.
Leviathan.
It reminded him of her, of the girl with the cold smile. Lucky shook his head. If he lay down and died now, he’d never learn who she was. The leviathan had given him a chance he may never get again. He stumbled to his feet, the water sloshing around his knees. The leviathan wailed again and Lucky wailed with it.
He staggered to the door, and pressed himself against the wall, listening for the guard. A slap, slap, slap sound made him tense, but when he peered around, the corridor was empty, just the rising water lapping against the walls, licking at the stone. Devouring them slowly. He turned towards the courtyard, out of habit, but there was nothing for him that way. No exits, no freedom.
Not that way.
The other way had more cells. All empty now, though he remembered that wasn’t always the case. Sometimes there had been others. He’d heard them shouting or crying. But they never stayed, unlike him, and he’d hear their absence in the silence.
He pushed on. The water dragged against him, trying to pull him back. Lucky squared his shoulders and kept walking.
At the end of the corridor was a brick wall, with a window looking down on the sea. The water, much higher than it normally was, lapped at the window. Lucky avoided staring at it, afraid the leviathan would stare back. On his right was a room with a table and chair, an inkwell, and an open ledger. To his left, another set of stairs rose up to the unknown.
Lucky paused, uncertain. Stairs that went up would go to the sky and the leviathan. But there was nowhere else to go. He started up the steps.
The wall exploded inwards, showering him with shards of brick. The impact knocked him off his feet, slamming him into the steps and knocking the breath out of his body. He lay, gasping, covered in dust, as water rushed into the hole.
The water rose higher, coursing up his body as he fought to get air back in his lungs. It sucked at him, dragging him from the steps. Lucky scrabbled at the stone, trying to get a grip, but they were smooth and slippery and his nails cracked and broken.
A wave washed over his head and Lucky lost his grip, disappearing under the cold, murky water. He broke the surface with a gasp, coughing out the salty seawater, and another wave pushed him under again. The stone step smacked into the side of his face, slamming his teeth together.
He was too dazed to fight back as the water dragged him towards the sucking gap in the wall. Lucky closed his eyes as the water rushed over his head again. The current forced him through the remains of the window, out into the sea beyond.
Out into the wide world.
Under the sky, Lucky panicked. The water pulled him down, gripping his ankles with cold tendrils, smashing him into the rocks. Then the sky would yank him the other way and he’d break the surface, gasping and choking. The two grabbed at him, pulling him this way and that, each one refusing to give up their prize.
Lucky didn’t want the leviathan to take him. He didn’t want the sea or the sky to, either. He wasn’t ready to meet his mother yet. Not before he’d found her killer.
He thrashed his arms, struggling to keep in the boundary of sea and sky. Deep in the back of his mind, a memory awoke, a memory of going into the sea voluntarily, of splashing around with others. Of movements to keep you in that space between the air and the waves.
He kicked, spraying water with wild abandon, but it helped keep the sea from dragging him down. A strange sensation, light and tickly, moved through his chest. Out across the sea, something floated, bobbing up and down on the waves. His first thought was leviathan, and he almost went under when his limbs froze in horror, but as he blinked through the spray, he realised it was a tall ship.
More shapes moved in the water, slipping quickly between the waves as they came towards him. Lucky tensed, but what could he do? He couldn’t go back to the cell, could barely keep his head above water. If these were guards, at least they’d be able to tell him what to do. Give him back routine.
He was so focused on the approaching figures that he didn’t spot the wave building until it struck him, smacking him into a rough, barnacle-encrusted rock. Bright colours went off behind his vision, and pain blossomed down his right side.
Lucky sank beneath the waves.
Chapter Two
The girl grabbed his hand, hauling him out of the water. Lucky struggled, swinging his arms, desperately trying to break out of her grip. Her white hair whipped in the wind, like sea foam in a storm.
She grinned, cold and hungry.
‘Whoa, easy there!’ The voice was strange, sharp and high and alarmed and angry. The vision of the girl faded from view and Lucky found himself staring at a woman, short dark hair jagged around her face, small mouth tight in a frown. Lucky let his arms go limp. It wasn’t the girl with the white hair who had him.
She called over her shoulder, ‘You want to give me a hand here, Golden Boy?’
More hands on him. He stiffened, his fists clenched. He didn’t like it when the doctor prodded and poked him twice a year, and he could prepare for that. These were strangers. The water shifted, the hands pulled, and rough wood bumped up against his back. With a yelp, Lucky found himself lying in a small wooden boat. Beyond it, the ship grew closer.
Two figures peered at him. Lucky pushed himself back, waiting to see if they’d yell or hit.
The man leaned forwards, a gentle smile on his face. The sun gleamed off his blond hair. He held out a hand to Lucky.
‘Hey. Are you all right? Anything hurt?’ He looked the same age as his companion, a young adult, maybe early twenties. Much younger than any of the guards. They both wore loose linen shirts and brown trousers, with sturdy calf-length boots.
Before he could get another word out, Lucky’s stomach rebelled, and he spewed a mouthful of seawater over the man’s fingers.
His companion roared with laughter. The man eased his shoulder so Lucky was leaning over the edge of the boat.
‘Shut up, Sienna.’ He turned to Lucky. ‘Back in the sea, mate. That’s where it belongs.’ He waved his clean hand, and a wave washed over the one Lucky had soiled. His nails were painted a shade of lilac. He muttered something under his breath, until he caught Lucky watching him. ‘Not your fault.’
Lucky’s stomach clenched again, and he retched, salt water and bile burning the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears from the shock and pain. A hand rubbed circles on his back.
The motion of the boat changed suddenly. Lucky gripped the edge of it, pressing his forehead against the wood. He was rising, being sucked up with the vessel into the sky. He moaned, digging his fingers into the boat, setting off a jolt of pain from his jagged nails. It didn’t make sense.
Then there was a thump and the motion stopped.
‘Here we are,’ the man said. ‘Safe and home.’ He tried to ease Lucky’s hand away from the boat, but Lucky dug in harder.
‘What you got there, Gabe?’ Another voice. This one higher, older, commanding. Guard? He tensed, wanting to flee, but there was nothing but the empty sea around him. He’d escaped his prison, something he’d never thought of doing. He couldn’t be caught by guards so quickly. It wasn’t fair.
Lucky raised his head. The boat hung against the edge of the ship. Sienna, the woman with the short hair, had already moved over to the larger vessel, and now stood beside a second woman. Tricorn hat, braided hair, pistols on her belt. She didn’t look like a guard, but she stood like one. Glared like one.
‘We found him in the water, Captain,’ Gabe said. ‘Guess he got swept off the castle battlements or something. The leviathan completed destroyed the wall. He’s banged up pretty badly.’
Her expression softened a little. ‘Get him cleaned up. Was he the only one?’
They didn’t know he was a prisoner. Fear prickled at him. What would they do when they found out?
‘That we found,’ Gabe said grimly. ‘What about the leviathan? What happened to it? Why did it do that?’
‘We turned it towards open water,’ the captain said, pointing out across the sea. ‘But now you’re on board, we need to get after it. Something’s not right.’
‘I’ll say,’ Gabe agreed.
Lucky didn’t really follow any of this, but from what he could understand, the leviathan had gone away. He sagged against the boat, relief draining any energy he had out of him, like the water running back to the sea.
Gabe was close again, one hand resting gently on Lucky’s arm. ‘Let’s get you on the ship and get those wounds fixed up.’
Lucky shook his head. The sky above was too wide, too large, too high. He didn’t know this man, didn’t trust him. Didn’t understand why he was so soft and gentle. He pressed his head against the wood, squeezed his eyes shut. He’d survived this far. He wouldn’t let the sky take him.
On the ship, the captain shouted orders and sailors scrambled to obey, pulling ropes and calling out in rhythm. The massive sails tumbled down, billowing in the wind.
Lucky expected Gabe to try and drag him, pull him around like the guards did, but he sat down, leaning back against the boat. From this angle, Lucky found his hair was not just held back, but bound in a long braid that ran to his waist. He’d never seen anything like it before, couldn’t drag his eyes from the way it swayed gently with the man’s movements.
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ He gave Lucky a grin. He reached behind him and held it out to show Lucky. The hair was dark gold, soaked with seawater. ‘I’m Gabriel. Do you want to tell me your name?’
Slowly, cautiously, Lucky released his left hand from the boat. He turned it, showing the scarred word on his forearm. Gabriel’s eyes widened as he took in the jagged letters.
‘Lucky.’ He swallowed, and the smile came back, though smaller this time. ‘I guess you are, given that we spotted you.’ He held out a hand again. Lucky shuffled back. ‘Come on. You don’t want to stay on the boat. There’s a nice cabin with a bed on board. You’ll feel better for a rest.’ Lucky eyed the hand cautiously. Gabriel didn’t seem afraid of falling into the sky, and maybe the cabin would be like his cell. Four walls. Safe.
He reached his fingers out, snatched them back, and then reached out again. Gabriel’s hand was warm and rough beneath his.
‘Good.’ Gabriel gave him a bright smile, and stood, pointing towards the ship. ‘Just over the rail, and across the deck.’
Lucky tried to follow him on to the ship, but shivers wracked his body and his legs wouldn’t move, and in the end it took Gabriel, Sienna, and the captain to help him. He made the mistake of looking up, once his feet were on the deck, past the expanse of sails to the grey sky above. Immediately he was on his knees, pressing his palms into the deck.
‘It’s all right. Nothing will hurt you now.’ Gabriel’s face filled his vision. Calm and confidence enthused his voice. ‘Come on, Lucky.’
‘Lucky?’ Sienna sniggered and Gabriel shot her a dirty look.
Lucky took a deep breath. He could do this. Across the deck. It couldn’t be further than the distance around the courtyard.
He could do this.
Gabriel’s fingers rested on his arm in a butterfly touch, a barely present sensation, keeping him walking straight. He led Lucky down some wooden steps, and then the sky was gone and the dark wood of the ship covered him. He let out a sigh that came out as more of a sob.
‘Here we go.’ Gabriel opened a door. The room was the same size as his cell, only without any window. Gabriel lit a lantern and set it on a hook on the wall. There was a blocky wooden chest in the corner, and some blankets folded up next to it, and that was it. ‘Sorry it isn’t much, but I thought you’d want somewhere private and there isn’t much of that on the ship. You stay here. I’m just going to get a few things. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Lucky settled in the back of the room, his shoulder and hip wedged into the corner. Four walls. Low ceiling. This would do. It wasn’t his cell, but it would do. He could be safe here, if he could keep his secrets. He watched the open door, longing to shut it, but unable to bring himself to move.
Gabriel returned, carrying a tray with a bowl of water, a glass jar, and several strips of white cloth. He was dry, now, his white shirt no longer clinging to his skin, and his hair a bright gold. He set the tray down and closed the door behind him. Lucky drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He watched as Gabriel laid out the medical supplies, trying to understand the man. He was tall, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, not brawny like the guards, but easily capable of overpowering Lucky. But his tone was soft, gentle, encouraging, not ordering.
‘What did they do to you in that place?’ Gabriel asked, a frown pinching his brow.
Lucky shook his head. He couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t admit anything. If they found out what he was, what he’d been accused of . . .
‘You need to get dry.’ Gabriel gestured to the pile of blankets. ‘Take your clothes off. Do you think you can do that?’
Lucky didn’t move. Gabriel should leave. The guards always left. That’s what they did. Why wouldn’t he go?
But Gabriel didn’t move like a guard. He moved slowly, as if he was afraid of something too. He didn’t shout or order, either. Lucky put his head in his hands. Exhaustion spawned a headache that pounded between his temples and nothing made sense. He didn’t understand.
Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘You’re going to catch a chill if you sit there dripping.’ He held out a blanket. ‘Please?’
The guards never said please. Twice a year, they’d strip him down to his small clothes, hold his arms while the doctor poked and prodded and mumbled under his breath. Then they’d throw a couple of buckets of water over him, cut his hair and beard, and leave again.
‘Please?’ Gabriel said again. The blanket brushed against Lucky’s forehead, raking over the place where the rock had grazed his skin. The pain, suppressed by fear and confusion, leapt up and Lucky cried out. He tried to back away, but he was already pushed into the corner.
‘Let’s try something different.’ Gabriel put the blanket down and reached a hand towards him. Lucky shook his head, sending a splatter of blood on to the floor of the cell. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to touch you, there.’ He pointed at Lucky’s arm. ‘And I’ll stop as soon as you tell me to. Just shake your head and I’ll stop.’
Lucky shook his head, and Gabriel froze, hand outstretched towards him. But when Lucky stopped moving, Gabriel started again, his hand coming closer. Lucky shook his head again, and Gabriel paused once more. This time, Lucky bit his lip and held still and Gabriel pressed a hand against Lucky’s upper arm.
Gabriel’s palm was warm and rough. Lucky tensed, every muscle locked, ready to flee, but he didn’t shake his head. Gabriel moved his hand in a circle, then drew it back slightly, bringing his fingers down to touch his palm. He did this several times, and something shimmered around it.
Water.
It flowed around Gabriel’s fingers, looped around his wrist. The more he moved and gestured, the more the water expanded. It was coming from Lucky’s own body. From his skin, his clothes, his hair. He watched, unable to even blink, until every inch of him was dry, and there was a swirling sphere of water around Gabriel’s hand, hazy brown from blood.
Gabriel stood up and without another word left the cell. When he returned, the water was gone.
‘I . . . er . . . don’t normally show off to strangers,’ Gabriel said, sitting down again. ‘But this seemed like a special case.’
Lucky had never seen anything like that before. None of the guards could control water, or at least, not that they’d ever shown him. He’d never even heard of such a thing. But perhaps that was what life was like outside the cell?
Gabriel spread a couple of blankets on the floor, and held up another one, so he was hidden from view. ‘I still need to take a look at your scratches. Take your shirt off. Lie down when you’re ready.’
Lucky didn’t want to do anything more than sleep, but the pain in his side was sharp and uncomfortable, and blood trickled down the side of his face.
I’ll stop as soon as you tell me to.
And he had. That had felt stranger than the water in a way. Someone giving him control like that. So he pulled off his bloodstained, ragged shirt he’d worn every day for as long as he could remember, and lay down.
The blanket covered his back. He winced as fresh pain lit up across his skin, but didn’t move. That was how he’d dealt with such things at the prison. Keep still; keep limp. Don’t make anyone angry. It would end soon.
Gabriel knelt down next to Lucky, rolling the blanket back so only his shoulders and arms were exposed. With a cloth dipped in the bowl of water, he cleaned away the blood.
‘Next bit is going to sting a bit,’ Gabriel said apologetically, picking up the jar. ‘But there’s nothing better for healing up scratches, I promise.’
He dipped two fingers into the jar and they came out coated in something thick and yellow that smelled of old fish.
‘Shake your head if you want me to stop, all right?’
He smeared the stuff across the back of Lucky’s shoulder. Immediately the skin burned with a new and different pain. He whimpered and shook his head. Gabriel’s touch lifted and Lucky felt him waiting.
The burning sensation from the yellow salve was intense, but when it faded, it took away the older, deeper pain, too. Lucky lay for a moment, waiting for it to return, or for something else to go wrong, but it did not. He looked up and caught Gabriel’s eye, then nodded.
Gabriel’s face lit up in delight and for the second time that day, Lucky felt the strange lightening sensation in his chest. He laid his head down on the blanket and gritted his teeth as the other man went to work.
As Gabriel finished tying off the last bandage, someone knocked on the door.
‘Grub’s up, Gabe!’
‘Thanks,’ he called back. ‘Fancy some food?’ he asked, turning back to Lucky. ‘You can meet the rest of the crew.’
Lucky shook his head. His world had been turned upside down. He’d been half drowned, smacked into rocks, forced on to a ship, prodded and poked. He wanted his cell and . . .
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