Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

way ahead. Where Sydney’s Orcish escort was armored in black, the other group before them gleamed of silver plate. Leaner and smaller than their bulkier cousins, the Merrow soldiers outnumbered Sydney’s Orc captors three to one. For all their gathered troops, Sydney’s pulse raced at the armored Merrow who stood at the forefront of all, his helmet removed that she might see and know him among the rest.

“Rupert!” she cried, attempting to run toward him.

Solomon prevented her, pulling her closely back to his side with one hand, the other drifting to the hilt of his sheathed sword. “What are you doing here, horse-lord?”

“I wish to see the princess,” said Rupert, his voice flat and even.

Solomon grunted. “Well, you’ve seen her. Now, clear out. I have orders from the Blackfin hisself to deliver this prisoner to the king.”

“Prisoner, you say?” Rupert clucked his tongue before pointing at Sydney. “That is the princess of New Pearlaya and all the five oceans at your side, Orc. You would be wise to mind your tongue.”

“Mind your own,” said Solomon. “I’ve no allegiance to you.”

“Nor I with you,” said Rupert, standing his ground all the same. “Still, it’s called being polite, something I imagine you and your fellow vermin have either long forgotten, or were never taught at all, rather. My Merrows and I are inclined to give you all a lesson, if you like.” Rupert smiled easily, unsheathing his sword in a flash, its sheen glinting in the torchlight as he brought the naked blade to his side near faster than Sydney’s eyes could follow.

Solomon did not reach for his sword, but neither did he retreat. “I have my orders.”

“And you may keep to them,” said Rupert. “I merely wish to have a word in private with her. Our last meeting was . . . cut short, I’m afraid. Wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”

Sydney nodded, recalling how Yvla had pretended to be a Silkie stable slave and knocked Rupert unconscious before they both fled together. “Yes,” she said quietly in answer to Rupert’s question. “I-I would like to talk with you too.”

“There,” said Rupert to Solomon. “You see. Now, you all have an order from the princess and a Merrow lord.”

Solomon huffed. “Might be you are a lord,” he acknowledged. “But she’s no princess.”

Rupert’s blade flashed again. Rising before the Orcs could follow suit, he had the tip of his sword pointed at Solomon’s throat. “Say that again, Orc.” Rupert’s steely eyes suggested he would not hesitate to continue toward its end destination. “Insult our princess again . . . and it will be the end of you and your fellows.”

Sydney’s breath caught in her throat as the Merrows drew their weapons too, all fanning out around her Orcinian escort.

Solomon snorted at the sight as his brothers-in-arms huddled closer around him, their backs to one another at the encroaching opponents. He glared at Rupert. “A word with her, then? That’s all you want?”

“Well, more than one, I’m sure,” said Rupert. “In private too. But, yes. I should very much like to have a conversation with the princess before you fulfill your orders to the Blackfin. Oh, you may run along and fetch your master too, if you like. The princess and I should be finished with our conversation by the time you return for her.”

Sydney thought her Orc captor took his time before responding.

“On with you, then,” said Solomon gruffly, nudging Sydney toward Rupert. He turned to his fellow Violovar next. “The rest of you wait here with these blow-holes. I mean to return with the Lord Blackfin shortly.”

Rupert chuckled at that. “Lord Blackfin now, is it? Curious . . . I had not heard the king honored him with such a title.”

“Perhaps you ought to clean the muck out of your ears then, m’lord,” said Solomon. “That, or find some better rats to deliver you news, for it won’t be the last title bestowed upon our liege. The Lord Blackfin has already proved himself twice over now more valuable than you and your shimmered lot.”

Rupert smiled in response, but said nothing further. With a nod, his Merrow soldiers cleared a path for Solomon to exit their circle.

Sydney watched Solomon carry on quickly past the tunnel and vanish beyond. No sooner than he was gone, she had the thought to rush toward Rupert and beg him to help her get away.

He was already coming to her, however, his hand light upon her upper arm as he guided Sydney beyond the Merrow soldiers and the Orcs. Rupert led her back through a series of doors she had originally entered through before finding him. A moment later, his guards closed the nearest doors behind them, affording some little privacy in the crypt-like tunnel.

Once the doors were closed, Sydney threw herself at her friend, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him close as she could. “Rupert, oh my God! I need you to help me!”

“Help you?” Rupert asked, reaching for Sydney’s wrists and gently prying her grip free so that he might back away from her.

Sydney looked up at him with tear-stained eyes, expecting the same warm smile she had seen when the king had introduced them to one another. The same smile she witnessed each and every day he taught her to ride her seahorse, Roselani. Instead, there were questions aplenty in Rupert’s gaze. No small bit of hurt either.

Rupert’s brow furrowed. “I tried to help you several times before, Sydney. The last of those that I recall was right before you ran off with a Silkie and left me unconscious to wake up in an empty stable. Aye, say nothing of the fool I appeared to be afterward for my trying to speak some sense to you. Who was that Silkie stablehand to you, Sydney? One so precious as for you to trust and run away with, abandoning me to scorn and jeers from those who discovered me later?”

Yvla. Sydney thought her name, but would not say it. “A friend of my mother’s,” she answered his