Princess at Sea

Table of Contents

 

“The Truth novels have developed into a riveting series, with a small, likeable cast, innovative use of magic, and a fascinating setting . . . with her accessible plotting and sympathetic heroine, Cook provides a fitting denouement for an outstanding addition to the fantasy canon, while leaving the door open for a new chapter in Alissa's saga.”

 

“An appealing fantasy that will charm fans of Elizabeth Scarborough and Tanya Huff. The heroine breaks all the rules . . . Dawn Cook is a talented fantasist who is a creative world-builder and a genius at creating complex characters.”

 

“[An] enchanting series . . . a delightful blend of romance, action, and wizardry. Dawn Cook will appeal to readers of Robin McKinley and Patricia Briggs.”

 

“Cook's solid third novel about Alissa . . . stands very well alone, showing as it does how many characters who exist in both times have grown and changed—or haven't.”

 

“
Forgotten Truth
is an unabashed romantic fantasy . . . vivid detail and a charming, resourceful heroine enhance this light quest tale.”

 

“[Cook's] got a great series on her hands, and I'm interested in seeing where she plans to take it.”

“Every bit as good as the first title, and Cook is very skillful at weaving in sufficient backstory. Best of all is Alissa, whose faults and foibles make her particularly endearing . . . I look forward to reading more from the imagination and pen of Dawn Cook.”

 

“Cook's use of mood and atmosphere really shines here . . . I look forward to seeing more from Cook, now that she's proven she can tell a darn good story.”

—
Green Man Review

 

“A beautifully told, simple story that looks unblinkingly at how prejudice unnecessarily reinforces misconceptions, misunderstandings, and hatred.”

 

“Admirable . . . an entertaining read.”

—
Kliatt

 

“Readers will place this excellent tale on their keeper shelves.”

—
BookBrowser

 

“A refreshing, humorous take on the coming-of-age quest.”

—
Romantic Times

 

“Fun . . . sure to appeal to fans of Tamora Pierce or Robin McKinley. With characters to cheer for, vicious villains, and attack birds,
First Truth
had everything I need in a good read. I look forward to Alissa's next adventure.”

—Patricia Briggs, author of
Moon Called

 

“In her beguiling debut, Cook has woven together magical threads . . . courage and quest . . . a world rich with vivid detail.”

—
Deborah Chester, author of
The Queen's Knight

 

“
First Truth
is well told and intriguing. The characters are complex and . . . definitely realistic. I'm looking forward to seeing what comes next.”

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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

PRINCESS AT SEA

 

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Ace mass-market edition / August 2006

Copyright © 2006 by Dawn Cook.

 

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
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For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-440-67823-3

 

ACE
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ACE and the “A” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

I'd like to take the chance to thank both my editor at Ace, Anne Sowards, and my agent, Richard Curtis. Anne, for her patience and efforts in helping me bring this one back in line with the rest, and Richard, for everything else.

I kept my eyes on my cards and my breath slow when Duncan
slid the red king I had discarded two turns ago under his sleeve, draped over the narrow table between us. His left hand holding the fan of cards moved in distraction, his right gripping the raised rim of the table when an especially big wave rolled under the boat. Behind him, the stacked tin plates from our lunch slid down the polished ash and into the wall with a
plink
. The light coming in down through the hatch glinted on them, drawing my eye.

From my peripheral sight, I saw a bare movement as Duncan hid his cheating. His brow was tight in pretended worry when I looked back, and his mussed bangs hid his eyes. Lower lip curled between his teeth to make his narrow chin narrower, he discarded. “Your turn, Tess.”

His voice was as guiltless as the rest of him, and I stifled my ire. He didn't know I'd spotted his cheating; few could. That I learned to play cards with a cheater as good as he helped.

Pretending ignorance, I drew a black priest, sitting straighter on the bench built into the side of the boat. The faint sounds of an argument came stronger over the creaking of wood and hum of wind in the sails vibrating up through my feet. One voice was high and excited, the other low and coaxing. They were at it again. I caught the accusing word “slavery” and winced.

I laid down the priest with a soft snap, taking a moment to tidy the discard pile and wedge it where two sides of the railing about the table met. The tilt of the deck had strengthened, and the rhythmic surges had become more pronounced. From above came Captain Borlett's confident call to reduce sail. The
Sandpiper
was a fast boat—especially with the wind coming from the angle it was—and the two accompanying warships were likely struggling to keep up.

Duncan picked up the priest with a casual slowness. His thumb rubbed the side of his second finger, telling me he was close to going out. My pulse quickened, and I watched his long, unmarked hands move. They were deeply tanned and strong, having no calluses whatsoever: the hands of a thief, though he claimed he wasn't. Twin rings of gold glittered on one hand. They were new additions. “Purchased,” he had claimed last week as he proudly showed them off to me, and I believed him.

There had been many such changes lately as Duncan took the opportunity to remake himself, and I couldn't help but silently applaud. His slow shift from vagabond to settled wealth had left me pleasantly surprised as Duncan developed an unexpected sensitivity in his appearance, which was amusing since I could see that parting with a coin so clearly pained him. I only hoped a smidgen of respect would come with it. Not that Duncan wasn't worthy of respect, but his history showed an appalling tendency to be—ah—inventive in the ways he kept food in his belly and a pillow under his head.

A new bit of color swirled through his brown trousers and long-sleeved shirt: soft golds and deep greens to match Costenopolie's new colors, changed to reflect the addition of the Misdev line by way of marriage of their prince to my sister. I thought it looked grand. His boots were brand-new—and in my eyes, gaudy—picked up at one of the first ports we had called in and still smelling of the red dye he had insisted they rub into it so they would match his hat. The wind had left his hair tousled, but it was newly washed, and his cheeks were freshly shaven, thanks to the harbor we'd left this morning before sunrise.