Chapter 29 Dead Wind #2
“Tonight.” His words are low gravel; they rake over me, stirring my blood, drawing sweat to the small of my back.
The air around us seems to darken. To thicken.
His steady fingers find the back of my neck, drawing me close and every nerve strikes to life where skin meets skin.
“Meet me on deck. We need to work on your power. And your skill with that blade.”
I become hyper aware of my máma’s knife strapped at my waist when his fingers run over it. It hasn't left my side since he gave it back and it won’t again until I pass from this realm.
Swallowing is useless now, my mouth is so dry, but I do it anyway and manage to whisper, “Why? Did you decide I’ll fight in the Mad Queen’s arena after all?”
The shadows seem to move with his face when he glares down at me. He’s unnatural in this lighting, brutal, terrifying, too fucking handsome for his own good. For my own good. But the sun will always be his element no matter how glorious he looks in the dark.
“No. But if we don’t catch wind before the week is out, what you saw out there will be a damn picnic compared to what’s coming.”
Dinner in the galley is a tense affair of bruised eyes and suspicious glances.
I sit at one of the crudely hewn tables, its wood rough enough to leave splinters if one isn’t careful.
The lanterns hooked overhead sway slightly in time with the ship.
I stare down at my rations of salted pork and thin goat cheese.
I’ve never missed Isle Elaris more, or the sea less.
Rowan and Sabre sit across from me, huddled close and far too cozily for the hostile air while Cyprian broods on my right, poring over navigational charts rather than eating.
Nicklas breaks off from his spot in line.
He plops down on my left, gives us all a too bright smile, despite shadows under his eyes.
I know he’s been working restlessly to find a way to get the ship moving, wind or no.
The rest of the sea-forged are unaccounted for, including the captain himself. No Reave, or Briggs, or gray haired twins. I consider slipping off to Mattias’ surgery but Sabre reaches out to snatch the edge of my tin plate before I can so much as stand.
“Now isn’t the time for wandering off, Vale.”
“I hardly think mortal peril will befall me on a short trip down the hall.”
Nicklas chuckles, spearing his dried pork with a double pronged fork and inspecting it as though that will make it somehow multiply. “Famous last words, if I ever heard ‘em.”
“Nick!” Rowan brushes long strands of deep red hair back from her face. “Don’t be so morbid.”
“My brother’s right. Tempers are hot and the crew isn’t pleased with dear Avalon at the moment.”
“Me?” I scoff. “What’ve I done now?”
Cyprian perks up from his charts and maps to join us in a moment of brutal reality. “From what I understand,” he whispers, “the crew believes Talon angered Ireus greatly by marrying you. And that a sacrifice should be made to House Aethra immediately.”
The wind gods. Of course.
“Craven fucks,” Sabre hisses. “Talon forgoes his rations, sweats and bleeds with the rest of us when he should be saving his strength for the Mad Queen’s arena. And what is he met with? Treachery. Suspicion.”
“Such is the life of a pirate captain,” Cyprian says, almost imperceptibly soft.
Sabre's face transforms with rage. She clutches her dull steak knife and starts to rise before Rowan pulls her back down, casting a look of panic toward me.
Sabre doesn't fight the hold. “You believe their treatment of him is warranted?”
“I believe a pirate is a pirate. To expect anything else from them is foolish.
These men and women are after plunder. They've spent months now chasing something they don't understand. The prize from raiding Solomon Black's estate while he and his forces were distracted on the beach was just enough to cover the tribute demanded by the Mad Queen. They know the likelihood of success at the Queen’s games. No one has ever beat her beast. If he fails there will be nothing to show for it but a dead captain and empty hull.”
Awe sparks the dark corners of my mind at this revelation.
Fucking pirate…of course it wouldn’t have made sense for Rhyland’s crew to show at all on the cove.
He had been spying. He knew that Solomon did not have the crown piece.
He could have slipped silently away. Instead he used the meeting as a distraction, sending part of his crew to the grossly under guarded Black estate.
Robbed him blind and got his revenge in the process.
Amazing.
The edge of Sabre's lip curls over her teeth as she stares at Cyprian like he's some crawling thing she’d like to squish under her boot.
“These men follow Talon because he is a fucking legend. Because it is an honor to walk in the shadow of a god.”
“Maybe once that was the case. But the world is changing, Sabre. Fewer and fewer believe your uncle was ever what he claims to be.”
My throat constricts. Uncle? I look at Rowan, trying to gauge her surprise at the news. But she looks unphased, staring between Sabre and Cyprian. There’s the smallest twinge of hurt in me to realize how distant we’ve grown, how little she’s felt the need to tell me over these last few weeks.
I clear my throat, feeling the lines of my face grow hard. “Uncle?”
Rowan looks at me first, her doe eyes softening. Sabre blinks as though remembering I exist at all. A wide grin sprawls over Nicklas’ face as he throws his arm around my shoulders.
“I guess that makes you our aunt.”