Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
Separation from Augustus had teeth. Every minute gnawed deeper, a dagger twisting slowly beneath Selene’s ribs.
Was he in pain? Was he alive?
When she’d been aboard Thorne’s ship, Augustus must have felt much the same way. The not knowing was the worst. Thorne was capable of atrocious, unforgivable things, especially when taunted.
Augustus was sure to say something utterly stupid, and then what? Would Thorne hack away at him a piece at a time like he’d started on Mettius?
Some nights, she woke from dreams of Augustus gasping like a gutted fish, bleeding out—limbs, eyes, tongue all gone.
It was after just such a dream that Blaze burst into her cabin and found her crying on the balcony. Little Gus’s face was nudged beneath her chin, a soft cooing sound vibrating from his chest. The remains of night smudged the pale glow across the endless stretch of ocean.
Blaze froze. His mouth opened, closed. Fingers curled against the frame, like he almost dared to comfort her.
“Selene—” he began.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She dried her eyes with the back of her hand. “What is it you came to say?”
“The Fleet. Come on.”
Heart hammering, she followed him to the decks, where the crew worked in eerie silence. A hush clung to the air, broken only by the rhythmic creak of the ship’s planks. To the east, a gray curtain dragged across the sea. Rain.
Ahead, the five remaining ships of the Triarius Fleet loomed in the distance, dark shapes etched against the horizon. They were anchored in the Cardrath Sea, two weeks’ sail west of Warian Bay.
Little Gus chirped nervously from her shoulder, his body vibrating and wings fluttering.
“They’re family,” she told him. “They’re going to help us get Augustus back.”
He calmed at her words, and a signal of reflective light flashed from the lead ship.
Blaze put an arm around her shoulders. “It won’t be long now.”
An hour later, the Entia pulled up alongside the Veyra, the ship sitting at the head of the formation.
Abi Obong’o, a black-skinned woman with a thick accent, was the first to greet Selene.
They’d first met in Wairia while docked in the Port of Dolis, then again in the days after the battle in Perean.
She was similar to Cassia in her overall fierce presence, but different because she smiled more freely.
Abi cupped Selene’s cheeks, unbothered by the cat-sized beast purring on her shoulder. “It is a relief to see you safe, Miss Selene. I knew you were aboard, of course, but it helps to see you with my own eyes.”
“You as well, Captain.”
“You know better, girl. I am Abi to you.”
Abi was the one who found the Entia. As soon as she heard what had occurred in the pirate city, she sent a raven with their location.
“Any update on our men?” Selene asked the captain.
A grim frown took Abi’s full mouth. “Aye, but I’m afraid it isn’t good.”
“Why?” Blaze asked from Selene’s side.
Abi turned her chocolate eyes to the Ranger, then watched the others board the ship: Omar and Oskar among them. “Come. Let us all speak in private.”
Like the Entia, the Veyra had a wardroom with walls lined in a dark, polished mahogany. The long table dominating the center was scarred by years of tense discussions. Behind the captain’s chair at the head, a brass porthole offered a glimpse of the incoming rain.
Abi motioned for them to sit and didn’t question how many had joined.
Omar and Lili sat opposite a pair of black-skinned men on Abi’s right. Abi introduced her lieutenants as her brothers, Rion and Herold, and when they spoke, they shared her thick accent.
In addition, Oskar kept to one side of Selene while Blaze took the other. Blaze’s Rangers stood sentry in a corner. Omar’s wife, Eliza, was accompanied by her sister, Leda. Omar’s brother-in-law, Hector, also came along, having acted as quartermaster to Omar’s captain these past two weeks.
Once everyone had settled, Abi leaned forward to gather her hands atop the table and silently met all eyes. “Thorne is sailing for the continent of Udora.”
Selene pulled up her mental map. Udora, one of this region’s larger landmasses, was within two, maybe three days from their location. “Do we know where in Udora he intends to go?”
“According to my spies in Warian Bay, a small coastal village named Olish,” she said. “Or what used to be Olish. It hasn’t been anything for some time. The village is considered cursed, and no one has touched its remains for seventeen years.”
The more seasoned sailors in the room reacted with knowing nods.
“Cursed?” Blaze asked, looking as confused as Selene felt. “Why?”
Omar said, “The entire village was slaughtered by some of the most bloodthirsty pirates on these seas. For decades, no one dared go against the Gallagher Fleet.” He met Abi’s eyes. “Not until…”
Abi nodded. “Until the Rutiliana-Triarius Fleet was hired to handle them, and we did.” She scanned the room.
“On the beaches of Olish.” She sat back with an exhausted sigh.
“The level of cruelty by the Gallagher Fleet on those people was beyond imagining and had been going on for some time. By the time we reached the beach, countless people had been nailed to planks and left to cook in the sun.”
Blaze scrubbed a palm over his coarse jaw. “The heads of our dead were attached to planks inside the Akias.”
Abi’s chin dipped, and her frown deepened. “Six of our fleet were nailed to planks in The Crossroads. That punishment was Thorne’s idea.”
Selene’s skin prickled. “Was Thorne part of Gallagher’s crew?”
“It is possible some of his men got away from us,” Abi said. “Maybe he has been planning this revenge on our fleet ever since. The truth is, we just do not know.”
“It doesn’t matter why,” Blaze declared. “If Mettius and Augustus are still alive, we go in there and get them back.”
Selene nodded, and Little Gus stirred on her shoulder. His emotions were all over the place, but she had little trouble recognizing his readiness to depart. He was as anxious to find Augustus as she was.
“If we leave now—” Selene began.
Abi held up a hand to stop her. “Now, tomorrow, a week, we have five ships to Thorne’s thirteen.”
Selene’s stomach sank. Thirteen. She hadn’t realized the odds were that bad.
“Six now with the Entia,” Omar said, as if that wasn’t still less than half.
“Regardless,” Abi said, “we have been viciously picked apart. We simply do not have the numbers.”
Selene couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re giving up?”
“No,” Abi said with a firm shake of her head. “I am admitting that I am at a loss. We all are.”
From the back, Roslyn straightened from within her circle of Rangers. “What about the local wildlife? Anything we can stir up?”
Blaze twisted to face her, a spark in his eyes, and gave an appreciative nod. “Outlandish ideas. I like it. Anyone else?”
Omar shared a look with his wife. “Our family isn’t adverse to creative mischief.”
“And we’re very good at it,” Eliza added with a slanted grin. “Leave Thorne’s ships to us. We’ll get their numbers down.”
“Let’s not forget the Drynopians,” Oskar added. “That’s fifty highly trained men who are as good as any of the Blades in my Guild.”
Selene hated giving any credit to Roman and his people, but Oskar was right. Their skills would be useful.
Abi gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “All right. These are all things Thorne won’t expect. But he knows how our fleet operates too well. I would feel better if we had the same sort of leverage.”
Oskar raised an eyebrow at Selene. “I believe you might be able to provide some insight into his crew’s habits.”
Every eye turned to Selene. Outside, rain began its steady drumming.
If Augustus were there, he’d call it madness. But madness was the only chance they had.
Selene smiled.
Morning light unspooled across stone walls and tangled sheets, soft and yellow.
Dimitrios had watched the light grow from nothing, one arm stretched beneath Milonia’s neck, the other around her waist. Her small, naked body was turned into his, her hands in loose fists, one beneath her cheek, the other against his chest. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow, and the furrow that usually held court between her brows was gone, smoothed out by exhaustion or trust—or both. Her breath was steady, untroubled.
For the first time in—god, he didn’t know how long—Dimitrios felt still.
Not vigilant. Not strategizing. Not haunted by ghosts.
Just still.
He followed the rise and fall of her chest for several minutes. Soaked in the warmth of her body. Inhaled her scent—part lilacs, part him. All of it carved a smile onto his lips before he could think to stop it. He was happy.
And, for better or worse, he hadn’t let thoughts of Sophia or Aris ruin any of it. Not because they hadn’t mattered, but because this did.
Milonia stirred, her body curving toward his chest. He pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair, letting his eyes drift shut again.
If this was what moving on looked like… He wanted it.
He wanted mornings exactly like this. Quiet. Sunlight stretching awake while the world outside slept. He wanted her scent, her sounds, her trust. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it—or how long it might last. But for now, she was still here. Still his.
“Are you smiling?”
God, that voice. Sleepy and soft.
Milonia hadn’t opened her eyes, but the curve of her mouth betrayed her amusement.
Dimitrios kissed the top of her shoulder. “Am I not allowed?”
She rolled onto her back and stretched, a graceful cat in morning light. “You’re allowed,” she said through a yawn, “but it’s suspicious. Kings don’t smile.”
“I’m not a king.”
A part of him wished he could say that forever and have it be true.
Her eyes cracked open, and she shifted back to look at him, really look at him. Her fingers found his stubbled jaw and traced the outline of his face. “And I’m not a servant,” she finally said, the corners of her mouth dipping slightly.
He kissed those corners and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny anymore, is it?”