48
Valine quickly explained everything and Malik took it in stride. He was displeased, but he was not furious like she feared. She told him her intentions with Pandora, and what use she would serve. Malik agreed, but hammered in the importance of informing him of these plans.
“I thought we talked about this,” he said, angry and hurt. “I need you to trust me. I told you that you can do things your way, but I can’t be kept in the dark.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s just…I—” Valine stopped herself, drawing an uncomfortable breath. “I felt guilt. I needed something to do that was mine and not predetermined by gods or patrons or kings. I’m sorry, I’m just so shaken up from Nylantia still that I just…I’m sorry.”
Malik lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Do not apologize, just don’t do it again. I don’t want to repeat this conversation.” He brushed long, dark locks behind her ear. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she breathed.
“You will have to answer for it eventually, though,” he said, sultry.
“Oh, I think I can figure out some suitable punishments,” she responded in kind.
“Does it involve you on your knees?”
“It certainly can.”
“Perfect.”
They smoldered together, threatening to let the flames of lust consume them. Valine could feel the charge in the air, like a lightning strike before a forest fire. But they could not give in because there was a recently reanimated corpse in her bathtub.
Waiting for Pandora to finish in the tub was an age, but eventually she entered in the cotton Valine had set out, hair dripping down her back and onto the floor.
“We’re going to have to do something about that,” Valine said, pointing at Pandora’s platinum locks.
“Oh…” Pandora murmured, glancing at the floor. “Sorry, I’ll clean up the mess.”
“No,” Valine said. “Not the water. Your hair. It needs to be different. It’s like a beacon here and it will be everywhere else.”
Pandora clutched her long, beautiful hair possessively.
“It’s your choice what we do with it, but it has to be changed. We can stain it with ink, cut it, or shear it. It is up to you.”
The blonde stared at her long hair longingly. “It’s just hair, it’ll grow back.” She sighed. “Let’s cut it and dye it.”
“Good choice,” Valine told her.
Pandora’s hair was cut from her waist to just below her shoulders, the platinum disappearing beneath a paste of henna and ink, blending into a natural looking reddish brown that was as dark as Valine’s, but the undertones followed closer to scarlet while Valine’s swayed towards indigo. For good measure, Pandora’s brows were dyed as well and Valine ensured that she knew how to properly apply mascara to darken her snowy lashes. She also taught her how to create deeper hollows in her face and how to subtly shift her features with cosmetics.
“We leave tomorrow,” Valine said, eyeing Malik who was drinking a flavored water in one of her armchairs. “You will be posing as a servant in a separate contingency. In the meantime, you will be posted in Luneth. I will have a contact get a hold of you, and you will feed them any information you hear. Gossip, secrets, anything of note, I want to hear it.”
“What am I going to be doing there?” Pandora asked, unconsciously reaching for her missing locks. She was still stunning as a brunette, but some of her etherealness was gone.
“You’ll be working in an apothecary. There’s a need of a new one while a certain one is raided. I will ensure you have a placement and you will learn the craft. But I need to reaffirm this; you are not immortal. You can die again, so be careful. I’m going to separate the tether and then you are on your own. Do not forget what I told you of betrayal.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” Then Valine allowed a swell of magic to build within her, tying it to the oath of her command. She allowed the smoke to soak into Pandora and once it was absorbed Valine very carefully sheared the tether.
It broke with a soft snap and Pandora scrubbed her chest as the last of the necromancy slipped into her.
“It’s done.”
They left Talloh the next day without ceremony, Hanish and his family smuggled onto a ship with Valine, Malik, Sarim, and Freyja. Pandora, disguised as a servant, was escorted by Alastair who’d volunteered, voicing his glee at not being a “fifth wheel” on the sea voyage. The plan had always been for half of Adraali’s retinue to journey via ocean to deem the best route for the soldiers to take, but Malik, upon hearing about the Call of the Phoenix diverted their course.
“You know where to find the Call of the Phoenix?” Valine asked, brow raised in Malik’s guarded cabin. The ship rocked beneath them, cutting through the waves, the scent of salt and brine thick in the air.
They’d hired the crew of the Tempest, the captain of which bore a striking resemblance to the murdered Captain Wallace Yarl, which Valine soon learned was because Morgan Yarl was Wallace’s twin brother. They shared the same frosty beard and salt spray hair, only Morgan was cleaner and more refined without the libidinous air his brother had. He also was missing the gnarly scar that cut across the former Yarl’s face. The Yarls had dominated the illegal trades across the ocean, hating each other with a fiery passion for what each specialized in. Morgan had condemned his brother for sex trafficking and slave trading, while Wallace abhorred his brother for the “cowards” career of art theft and drug imports.
“Not for certain, but all the whispers are coming from Cuuevota and I need to ascertain something else there,” Malik responded as he rolled the black sleeves of his blousy shirt to his elbows. Valine was momentarily spelled by his forearms, the coiled strength, the veins, the tattoo of the athame and script, this time, she could see that it was Stygian. She didn’t know he knew the language.
Ve du la vessurrae vu alla nask mylii.
Valine mentally translated.
I am the sword you will not wield.
“What could you possibly need at the black market?” Valine asked, pulling herself from distraction.
“Not a what.” Malik paced. “Cuuevota is an independent country with no allegiance or alliance—I intend to secure one."
“Malik,” Valine chastened. “The market operates outside of the king and queendoms, they will not agree to any terms you set.”
“We will not know unless we try,” Malik said resolutely.
Valine’s stomach heaved uncomfortably at the prospect but she kept her mouth closed. They were traveling to Cuuevota either way. The market may be illegal, but they weren’t stupid enough to kill a king there, were they?
“Right,” she managed. “Well, I need to get a report from Sarim.”
“Before you go…I want you to know that I don’t want to follow through with the brides next year.”
Valine froze and half turned. “What?” Shock filled her voice.
Malik shifted, discomfort evident in the way he held himself. “I don’t want a false marriage.” The king’s eyes were intense and focused, but he wavered, and his eyes went to her hand—to the ring. She felt its weight grow on her.
Her heart hammered. She knew what she was being offered, the potential spoken into existence. “We’ll discuss it later,” she deflected.
“Okay,” he allowed.
She turned to leave, but Malik caught her hand and pulled her against him, she felt the ridges of his abdomen beneath her, his hands enticing manacles on her wrists. “Stay. We never got to finish what we started. I miss the way you taste.”
He dipped his head and kissed her throat, nipping it lightly and soothing the small hurt with his tongue. She dropped her head back, feeling her dark waves cascade as she opened to him more, luxuriating in the feel of a king at her mercy. She felt powerful and everything about Malik was so addicting. She’d hardly got a taste and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to stop.
“Malik,” she moaned throatily. He answered with a delicious groan that caused the length of his cock to harden against her. “We can’t here, there’s too many people. They’ll hear.”
“I know ways to keep you quiet,” he murmured against her collarbone.
“I’m loud,” she breathed.
He chuckled, the sensation burned into her skin and she felt heat coil low in her belly, wetness pooling between her thighs. “Oh, I know.”
She pulled back and pressed one forceful kiss against his lips, detaching from his steel grip. He was too surprised to fight her. “I really do need to speak to Sarim.”
Malik watched her with hunger, his eyes held promise and she thrilled at the prospect. “Please attend to whatever business you need; all I ask is think of me and how I had you splayed on that bed and ready to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.”
Valine muffled a whimper and exited the room, a furious flush on her cheeks. Oh, she was certainly imagining it, she hadn’t stopped imagining it ever since the first touch of Malik’s tongue on her clit. But that wasn’t entirely true, she’d fantasized about him well before he’d even dressed or undressed her. Before he’d touched her at all.
Climbing up to the quarter deck, Valine found Sarim looking out over the waves, watching the ivory queendom disappear as they sailed north. He was in his regular Valmotti leathers, the crisscrossing straps of belts across his chest lined with daggers.
Sarim was positively glowing as he watched the glitter over the water. The cut and spray the sleek dark lines of the ship created, the polished rail his hand rested on. This was how Sarim was meant to be, on the sea with the briny air on his clothes. He deserved to be on the open water, not constrained to the walls of Valmotti servitude.
“He’s different now, you know,” Sarim said without turning around, that warrior training revealing her presence before she made it known. He turned to face her, amber eyes indecipherable. “I’ve never seen him like this until you.”
“I think it has little to do with me and more what I’m capable of offering him,” she told him, crossing the deck to lean on the rail next to him, watching ship cut through the endless blue.
“You’re wrong.”
She shook her head. “There’s so much you don’t know. So much of what you saw in Selyndyr was acting.”
“Bull-fucking-shit, Valine. You think I’m an idiot? I know the difference.”
Aethermancers in pale blue were scattered across the deck, working in tandem to power the sails, the wind rippling over them. Hydromancers in indigo were directing in unison, quieting the worst of the waves around them, hands outstretched and sweat beading on brows. Among them were a few other mages, Valine noted the yellow of a luxmancer and the storm gray of a fulgurmancer—one that was not Hanish, as he and his family were stowed safely down in the berth.
Valine thinned her lips in concentration, avoiding answering, and realization dawned on Sarim.
“You’re trying to convince yourself. Why?” he asked, voice softened.
She drew in a breath that tasted so strongly of the ocean she wanted to fall into it.
“I fear the future,” she admitted.
“That doesn’t make any sense. You can choose what you do. We’re constantly moving towards the future and because it hasn’t happened yet, you can choose its course. How can you be afraid of it?”
“Forget I said anything.”
“No,” Sarim disavowed. “I’m your friend, I want to know what’s wrong.” Fear lit his eyes. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Valine laughed. “No, I haven’t even slept with him.”
“You haven’t?” Sarim was clearly astounded.
Valine cocked a brow, pointedly looking in his direction. “Does everyone think we’re going at it like rabbits?”
“Honestly, yeah,” he said. Valine rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you found naked in his bed when Balchon and Tallulah died?”
“Don’t forget Countess Magdelena, but no, I was still wearing my dress.”
“So, if you’re not pregnant, what’s going on?”
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Have you heard of the Call of the Phoenix?”
“Yes, hasn’t everyone?”
Apparently, everyone but her had. “Nylantia told me I was going to find it, but in doing so I would experience a loss.”
“So, you’re distancing yourself to protect from the hurt. You think you’re going to lose him.”
That was exactly what Valine feared. She feared that she would earn the throne only from Malik’s death, and she couldn’t express how much she didn’t want that. She wasn’t striving for the throne in the first place, she just wanted him and she was too selfish to leave him entirely. And she wanted vengeance against Runell too much to take him now. So, holding him at arm’s length it was.
“I know it’s stupid, but I think I—” she suddenly broke off, horror arrowing through her. “Get down!” she screamed.
Valine tackled Sarim to the opposite side of the quarter deck just as an enormous gray tentacle slammed into the ship, wood groaning and shattering beneath the weight. Suckers warped the wood, a wickedly sharp hook impaled boards. Valine looked up, shoulder throbbing, water raining down onto her, and met the glowing red eyes of a kraken.