14. Reyla
14
REYLA
T he moment Merrick told me to leave the deck, Lord Briscalar latched onto my arm. He kept peering back as he hurried me down the stairs. I wanted to look back myself. No, I wanted to be on deck, watching whatever Merrick planned to do.
Would he lash through the crew like Ivenrail, making them pay for what could be a mere accident?
At the bottom of the stairs, I wrenched free from Lord Briscalar. I’d go with him—for now, but I would not be treated in this manner.
With a grunt, the lord steered me toward my suite as if I was a misbehaving child. Not yet, but give me time.
“What’s happening up there?” I asked.
“It’s not my place to say,” he squeaked, his gaze anywhere but on mine as he urged me toward my cabin door. He opened it with magic, and with a thrust, sent me inside. I spun but the door slammed in my face. The lock clicked, and I didn’t bother to test it. If nothing else, Lord Briscalar’s magic was superior to mine.
I stared at the wooden panel with fury simmering in my chest. Farris pressed against the backs of my legs, his whimper breaking through my frustration.
What in all the fates had happened up there?
I couldn’t shake the image of Merrick’s skin tightening beneath his muscles as if it had become something more like armor as he latched onto me and flung us onto the deck. The memory of his touch, the protective way he’d shielded me, warred with my need for answers. Had it been an accident or something more sinister?
Biting down on my fingernail, I knew I couldn’t afford to sit and wait for someone to give me information. Answers wouldn't be served on a silver platter, not here, not among the fae, and I suspected, not from Merrick.
My pretty gown now felt like ropes coiling around my body, a reminder of the queenly role I was supposed to play at Evergorne. If something attacked, did they expect me to hide?
Fuck that.
I obeyed no one but myself.
I tore off the dress, the fabric dragging over my skin. Tossing the gown onto the bed, I raced to the closet and pulled out my favorite leathers, grateful Lord Briscalar had only cleaned them and not thrown them away.
I tugged the tunic over my head and stuffed my feet through each pants’ leg, securing the garment at my waist. Each piece fit perfectly, their weight and flexibility a comfort all their own. The familiar scent of worn leather was like the hand of a best friend, steadying me as I smoothed the hem of the tunic across my hips.
Farris padded around me, looking up, sensing the shift in my mood. His nose nudged my side, his eyes wide with concern.
“Oh, you sweet boy.” I stooped to rub behind his ears. Dropping to a knee, I leveled my gaze with his. “You have to stay here, but I’ll take you up onto the deck later, when Merrick isn’t around to send us away.”
I liked what I’d seen of Merrick so far, but no one penned Reyla.
I stroked Farris’s snout, then scratched beneath his chin, his fur bristling under my touch before smoothing out. “Stay quiet and guard the suite, will you?”
He huffed but gave a small nod as if he understood.
The porthole window on one side of the bed caught my eye. I crossed the room in three quick strides and tugged the latch free. It groaned as I wound it open, and a cool sea breeze whipped in to tease my hair across my face. Leaning out, I glanced down the side of the ship.
Another porthole hovered slightly open farther down the hull.
Lore’s quarters.
I grimaced. He could be inside, and the possibility of waking him nagged at the back of my mind. But the odds of his hallway door being magically locked from the outside were less than mine.
I had no choice but to escape through his room, but how would I get there?
I couldn’t fly, and as far as I knew, no fae could turn themselves into a bird. Maybe they could, but I’d be stupid to experiment with magic like that. Leave it to me to find a way to change only to be unable to reform myself after.
But I could do some magic, and it might work here.
I leaned out farther and scanned the smooth hull. There were no handholds, no convenient ropes hanging down. Just an endless expanse of wind- and sea-polished wood glistening with ocean spray.
No handholds? I’d make my own. It would mar their pretty ship, but I could deal with the ramifications of what I was going to do after.
I channeled power into my finger, feeling the familiar burn as it shot down to the tip. The fiery lightning crackled as it ignited, dancing at the edge of control and begging to scorch more than I intended. But no, I couldn’t let it blaze free.
Carefully and while staying focused, I pointed my finger at the hull to the left of the porthole, about a forearm's reach away. I released the magic in a focused bolt that sizzled against the wood, carving a neat hole into it. The smell of charred wood filled my nose, mixing with the salty air from the sea, but it made almost no sound.
One.
I repeated the process, forming a second handhold, and then another, until I’d created a line of scorched holes that led all the way to Lore’s slightly ajar porthole.
Sweat slicked my forehead despite the breeze, but I blew on my finger, grinning with satisfaction.
So much for locking me up.
Moving quickly, I maneuvered my legs through the porthole, the narrow opening forcing me to shimmy my hips to make it through. My leather pants creaked and strained, gripping my legs tight as I slid down along the side of the ship. My breath caught in my throat as I turned and braced my belly against the cold metal sill.
As soon as my feet dangled, I stretched my arm out, reaching for the first hole I’d created. With my heart pounding and while sending a nervous glance at the churning sea very far below, I tugged in a breath and lowered myself to my hands with my feet spiraling. I stretched my hand out, latching onto the second hole. It was deep enough to grab onto, though already slick from ocean spray. Dread slithered across my skin, but I clamped it down before it could take root.
I let go of the hole and grabbed the third, bracing my body against the hull with my muscles strung with tension.
Ignore the fear. Move.
Sweat beaded on my upper lip, the coolness of it pooling down my spine. The sea thrashed below, spray leaping up to bite at my boots. It dampened my back as I shimmied across the slippery wood, using one hole after another to make my way toward Lore’s porthole. The weight of the rolling ship did nothing for my balance, but I focused only on the next handhold, refusing to give up and head back .
I reached Lore’s porthole and slid my fingers through the small opening. The window creaked as I pushed it wider, and my pulse throbbed in my throat as I pulled myself up through the gap. I expected Lore to grab me by the collar and haul me inside. He’d chide me. Justified, but I’d snarl right back in his face.
As I tumbled inside, the room remained empty.
I lay on the wooden floor, gulping in air, every nerve humming from the thrill of actually making it.
The thick quiet inside Lore’s quarters felt unnatural, but he must be in the bedroom, sound asleep. Let’s hope nothing woke him once he was out. A shame he wasn’t here to greet me. I’d almost welcome his teasing voice tainted with that familiar arrogant sneer.
I got to my feet, slicking my damp hands down my thighs, and tiptoed over to the bedroom door, listening, hearing soft breathing. Damn, he was in the bedroom. With my heart thundering, I moved quickly across his sitting area, stopping every few steps to look for my sword, which wasn’t around. Leave it to him to take it to his bedroom, a place I didn’t dare enter, not even to retrieve my precious weapon.
My breathing raged as I continued forward, and anticipation coursed through me. I didn’t know what I’d find on deck, but I wasn’t done seeking answers, not until I’d seen how Merrick behaved with this threat.
I unlocked the door to the hall and stepped out, tugging it closed behind me. Then I raced up the stairs and onto the upper deck in time to see a man get flung into the sea .
Merrick froze when he saw me, his arm dropping to his side.
He’d . . . killed someone.
Did I see dismay in his eyes or was that anger? I suspected the latter.
His hands clenching, he stormed toward me.