Miya Black, Pirate Princess I: Adventure Dawns (25 page)

"It's a term of endearment," said the second girl, who was slightly shorter than the first, but no less skinny. She was very, very blonde.

"I just adore your dress," said the first. "Isn't it a shame that you hadn't the shoes to match?"

"Margaret, I can't believe how cruel you are," said the second girl. "Obviously her island has pooled all their money to buy that dress for their princess. I wouldn't be surprised if they gave up clothes of their own in order to give their precious princess this lovely thing."

"Oh, I do apologise, Miya," said Margaret. "I didn't mean to offend you. Please forgive me if I did. And who is this? Miya, I know it's very difficult for you to keep up with the latest trends and fashions all the way out there on your little island, but bringing a servant with you to a ball is not the done thing these days."

"I'm not sure her isolation can excuse this faux pas," said the second girl. "I don't believe bringing a servant along has ever been in fashion. Or are you trying to start a new trend? I don't mean to be cruel, Miya dear, but you've hardly the standing to pull that off. I'm only telling you this to try to prevent further embarrassment for you. As a friend."

Miya turned slowly, facing the two girls, her expression fixed and bright.

"Thank you, Anne," she said, her voice tight. "Actually, this is my brother."

"Oh, Miya! Don't say that so loudly!" said Anne. "People might hear! People who don't care about you, that is." She glanced up at Sola. "Perhaps you could tell people that he is your bodyguard, instead."

"I don't need a bodyguard," snapped Miya, before she could help herself.

"Now, now, Miya, I'm just trying to help you out. There's no need to get snappy. I know you have a little bit of an inferiority complex but—"

"Who on EARTH would feel inferior to YOU?" Miya hissed, stepping forward, looking up at Anne, her eyes burning. "You're the most—"

"Miya, this only goes to prove my point," said Anne, shaking her head sadly. "If you want to rise above your reputation as, well, these aren't MY words, of course, but as an angry little weed growing from a backwards compost heap of an island, then—"

"Stop."

The voice was Sola's. He frowned down at Anne.

"Sola, it's okay," said Miya. "It's—"

"No, no, let him speak," said Anne. She smiled brightly up at Sola. "I'm very interested to hear what he has to say."

Sola looked at her, then at his feet. Anne smiled triumphantly.

"Well, it's nice to know that some people around here know their place, at least," she said. "Oh, Miya, I've just noticed, you have a scrape on your cheek! Did you have some trouble putting makeup on? You really shouldn't use a knife when applying rouge."

"Anne, don't be so rude!" said Margaret, batting her friend lightly with the fan she was holding. "You KNOW Miya doesn't have the first clue about putting on makeup! Even mentioning it must be dreadfully embarrassing for her."

"Oh, of course! How very rude of me. Miya, I'm so sorry. I know you probably can't even afford makeup, despite how desperately you need it."

Miya glared at Anne, unable to even pretend to be civil. More than anything she wanted to find the words, find the right thing to say that would take Anne down, make her feel like she was feeling, but her confidence had melted in the presence of the other princesses, her words had vanished, her mind had simply given up and gone to hide in a corner until the mean girls went away. More than she had wanted to escape from the would-be kidnappers at Biscuit Cove, more than she had wanted to defeat Badtooth, perhaps even more than she wanted to get out of here and get on with finding her grandfather, Miya wanted to know the words that would defeat Princess Anne.

"I ... you ..." she managed.

"It's all right, Miya," said Margaret. "Don't cry. You're among friends. We just care about you, we're trying to help you."

"I'm not bloody well crying!" Miya snapped.

"Goodness, Miya, language!" said Anne, with a laugh. "Don't be so tense, it's terrible for your complexion."

"Who cares about complexion!" yelled Miya. "How is complexion in any way important? I can outfight a pirate captain, I can outwit a gang of kidnappers, I can outsail half a dozen ships that are ALL trying to SINK me! Those are the things that are important! What can YOU do, REALLY?"

Or at least, that's what she wanted to say. Somehow, with Margaret and Anne
smiling
at her like that, the words simply would not come.

"Well, in any case, perhaps I'll see you later," said Anne. She reached out and patted Miya's cheek. "Oh, don't be that way, Pancake. You'd really have quite a pretty face if you didn't go around scowling all the time, and perhaps learnt the basics of, well,
presentation
. I suppose you're just young, that must be it."

"You're fifteen! You're only fifteen, you're only a year older than I am, stop acting like you're so much BETTER than me!" Miya said. Or rather, that's what she intended to say. What actually came out was:

"You ... you're ... you can't ..."

"And perhaps some elocution lessons," said Margaret. "That means 'speaking properly', Miya."

"I know what it means! And maybe you should be taking some 'how not to be a hateful little wench' lessons!" was what Miya wanted to say, but she just stood there, fists clenched at her sides, Sola's hand on her shoulder, watching the two princesses walk away.

"At least it is over," said Sola quietly, after a moment.

"It's not."

And in the same way Miya couldn't bring herself to say the things she wanted to say to the two princesses, she also couldn't bring herself to put her hands over her ears, or run away, or talk loudly to cover up what followed, which was this:

Princess Margaret and Princess Anne leaned in towards one another, and whispered something, and then they laughed. It wasn't a cruel laugh. It wasn't a mean laugh. It wasn't even a particularly loud laugh. But to Miya, it was the worst sound in the entire world.

At least, that's what she'd thought.

"What are YOU doing here?"

It was then that Miya discovered that the ACTUAL worst sound in the entire world was hearing your arch-rival Grace Morgon say "What are YOU doing here?" in the place you'd least expect to meet her.

Miya Black turned slowly, heart beating fast and stomach sinking low as she took in the sight of her rival. Grace was wearing a dress that, to put it quite frankly, took Miya's dress out back and beat it to within an inch of its life. It was big and white and had feathers and ruffs and it went in and out in all the right places. Her shoes were also far more appropriate than Miya's, slim and delicate and tasteful. On top of her head she wore a hat very similar to the one she'd been wearing when Miya last encountered her, except this one was white with a black feather.

As Miya took in Grace's appearance, Grace also took in Miya's. What she saw was a short, plain girl with a scraped face, singed hair and big heavy boots, wearing a dress that was, admittedly, reasonably well-made and with a nice cut and colour, but which the wearer obviously had no idea what to do with.

"You look like a pig that's been taught to wear clothes," said Grace.

"You look like a ... like a cow!"

"What are you doing at my party?" asked Grace, ignoring Miya's 'comeback' as she stepped towards her. "I'm almost certain I didn't invite you."

"
Your
party?"

"My birthday party," said Grace, smiling. "Everybody's here. Daddy put it on for me, he arranged the whole thing. Were you talking with Anne and Margaret just now? I'm surprised they'd give you the time of day, for all they think of you."

Miya scowled, her hand going to the hilt of a sword that wasn't there.

"Oh my," Grace laughed, "did you just go to draw your sword? Time and place, Miya, time and place. My goodness, you are quite the ruffian, aren't you? Some savage little girl from a backwards little island. Do you know what Anne said about you? She said if one were to shake your family tree, monkeys would fall out. Rather amusing, actually. Still, I suppose that kind of attitude might help you earn a living once you become homeless. Perhaps you could intimidate small children and steal their pocket money."

Miya glared at Grace, not trusting herself to speak a single word without it turning into a wild scream of hatred and fury.

"Clover Island, yes? I recall the name. Clover Island. Clover Island. Clover Island. I just kept repeating it to myself, it seemed so important to remember. If it wasn't for my little party here we'd probably have taken it already, but, you know, a princess such as myself does have certain obligations. And especially after all these lovely people made such an effort to be here—this turnout is remarkable, don't you think?"

"Clover Island will never fall," said Miya, her voice low and controlled. "Especially not to
scum
like you."

"Goodness, the language of her," said Grace. She laughed. "I can see why you have the reputation that you do. Anne and Margaret were telling me earlier about some of your little temper tantrums, quite amusing. And not just you, I understand. 'Like father like daughter' may be an appropriate expression, yes?"

"Hello, Princess. Who's your friend?"

Miya looked up at the man who had just spoken to Grace. He was tall and broad and quite handsome, wearing a powdered wig and a fine white dinner suit, the very picture of a modern gentleman. But then Miya saw that his hands were scarred and weathered, and his eyes, behind the twinkle of amusement, were deeply cold.

"Oh, Daddy, this is the girl I was telling you about earlier. Miya Black, of Clover Island."

"Ah," said Grace's father. "What a delight to have her here."

"That's JUST what I was saying," said Grace. "Such an unexpected surprise. She's something of a firebrand, as I'm sure you may have heard. Miya, this is my father, Peter Morgon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miya—but please, call me Pete."

The princess of Clover Island looked at Badger Pete, and Badger Pete looked at the princess of Clover Island. They held the gaze a long moment, and then Miya spoke:

"How wonderful to meet you finally. I understand that you are to thank for this delightful affair?"

Badger Pete shrugged modestly, a slightly odd smile on his face.

"Well, what father could do any less for a beloved daughter?"

"Indeed," said Miya. "You've certainly spared no expense."

"If you have the means, why not?"

"It appears as if 'having the means' is in no way a problem for you," said Miya.

"Having the means has never been a problem for me," said Pete, smiling. "Ah, I understand that your own father is quite eager to meet me. I must confess, after what my daughter has told me, I find myself rather eager to meet him also."

"I'm sure such a meeting would be very interesting," said Miya. She suddenly realised that Sola had been still and silent since Grace had appeared. "Oh, how rude of me," she said. "This is my brother, Sola."

Pete's eyes went to Sola, and as Miya looked up at her brother she was shocked at the difference in his face; she had never even really seen him angry before, but at this moment the expression of hatred on his normally calm face was almost frightening.

"You," said Sola, his voice deep and hard. "You are the one that enslaved my people."

Badger Pete looked at Sola a long moment, his blue eyes cold, before smiling.

"I've enslaved many a people, lad," he said, his voice low. "You might have to narrow it down a bit for me. What day was this on? A Tuesday?"

Sola took a single step forward, closing the distance between himself and Pete to less than a foot. For the first time Miya noticed just how big Badger Pete was; he could almost stand eye-to-eye with her brother. Grace put a hand on her father's arm, looking up at him with a question in her eyes, but he shook his head just slightly and she lowered her hand again.

"I'd think carefully about what you're doing, lad," said Pete. "I'd think about where I was and who I was with."

Sola looked at Pete a long moment before speaking:

"My people are the Tonfa-Tonfa," he said. "We are kind, and generous, and brave, and strong. I know the name of my great-grandfather, and of his great-grandfather, and of his great-grandfather, and someday so too will my children. But they will not know your name. There will be nobody who remembers the name Peter Morgon, because you do not have a people."

"Well, there'd be a lot here tonight who'd disagree with you on that count," said Pete, with a chuckle.

"You are
one man
who has bought himself popularity," said Sola. "But when the day of your defeat comes,
and that day will come
," he growled, the menace and power in Sola's voice making Miya shiver, "there will be not one of these people standing by your side."

Sola stepped back, looked down at Miya, then back up at Pete.

"This is not the day you will be defeated," he said, his voice returning to more like normal, his expression calm once more. "And I may not be the one to defeat you. But you
will
be defeated. And then you will be forgotten."

Sola held his arm out for Miya.

"Sister?" he said. Miya looked up at him, and then at Badger Pete and Grace. She curtsied perfectly, then took Sola's arm.

"Good evening," she said. "Thank you for putting on such a lovely party. And Grace ... I do hope we meet again."

Badger Pete watched Miya and Sola as they walked away, a thoughtful expression on his face.

*

"How did you ... I can't even ... the look on Grace's face, and, oh my goodness, the way ..." Miya ran out of words and jumped up at her brother, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him before dropping down again. They had managed to avoid further confrontation after leaving Grace and Badger Pete behind, and had made it out of the ballroom and into a quiet corridor.

"You were awesome," she said. Sola shook his head.

"I should not have said anything. But I couldn't keep silent. Not with that man before me. It was all I could do not to attack him then and there, with my bare hands."