Chapter 8
The bowl of stew from Lord Lexington warmed Amaya’s hands and wafted a savory, mouth-watering aroma to her nose.
Her stomach growled noisily, betraying exactly how hungry she was.
She pretended not to notice it and prayed he didn’t hear, but it took everything she had to remember her manners and not inhale the stew after two days of nothing but gruel and stale bread.
“Please, eat,” Lexington said, gesturing to the bowl.
Amaya’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do I know you haven’t poisoned it?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Because frankly, there are more entertaining ways to kill you. And like I said earlier: if I wanted to, you’d already be dead.”
Amaya suppressed a shudder. Judging by the bloodbath that had taken place on the Bitterwind, Lord Lexington had no shortage of colorful ways to murder her if he so desired.
She lifted the spoon and blew on the stew before taking a bite.
It was incredible—rich and hearty and seasoned to perfection. The beef melted in her mouth, the spices opened her sinuses, and it warmed her entire body on the way down. But she tried to downplay her reaction.
“This is . . . pretty good.”
“We may be pirates, Sinclair, but we aren’t savages.”
“‘Course not. Raiding towns full of innocent people for relics you don’t need is completely civilized.”
“No less civilized than stealing valuable resources from the impoverished communities that make them. And my crew spares the innocents.”
“Hm.” Amaya pursed her lips, skeptical of his self-righteous rhetoric. “How noble of you. How do you determine who’s innocent? Maker forbid you misjudge someone and leave a relic smuggler alive.”
He didn’t answer that, and Amaya used the moment of silence to look him over. William Lexington was not at all how she had imagined a Sky Lord. She’d envisioned someone like Ridge, or even Corsair. Someone older, grizzled by decades of bloodshed and cruelty.
But Lexington could only be a few years older than her at most. He was undeniably handsome, with dark blond hair streaked with honey and caramel, sun-kissed skin, a carved jawline, and deep, jade green eyes flecked with gold.
That wasn’t to say he was put together—he could stand to comb his hair and change out of his bloodied clothes—but his lack of refinement made him seem more like an ordinary man than a deadly legend of the skies.
He probably wouldn’t appreciate the assessment.
Amaya had hardly been able to look away when he’d first found her. At first, she’d been mesmerized by the way the sun haloed his outline, but now, she held his gaze for a different reason.
She refused to let him get under her skin.
Lexington would never know how scared she was.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked.
“I hear you’ve been driving my men crazy,” he replied, folding his arms.
Amaya shrugged, feigning innocence. She may or may not have badgered the first guard, Crowe, with an onslaught of incessant questions. He’d answered none of them.
“What do you expect me to do? It’s boring down here. At least I had Phineus to talk to on the Bitterwind.”
“I see. Would you like to return to the Bitterwind?”
If he was trying to weasel an obsequious expression of gratitude out of her, it wasn’t going to work.
“I don’t know. So far, this isn’t much better. Am I supposed to thank you for throwing me in another cell?”
She was still miles away from home, careening through the sky with no control over the destination.
Alastor Graven would still want that necklace.
She was more or less in the same condition Lexington had found her in, with the addition of a pounding headache from hitting her head earlier. And Camden was still gone.
Lexington wasn’t amused. “You’re supposed to thank me for saving you from Graven.”
Amaya leaned against the back wall, giving her stew a stir before lifting the spoon to her lips. When she did, she noticed a gold chain hanging out of his pocket. Her mother’s necklace. Her necklace. Fury simmered through her veins and her hand tightened around the spoon.
“You haven’t saved me yet. And I’ll thank you when I’m thankful,” she said. “Right now, all you’ve done is steal my locket and delay my return home.”
Lexington sighed and raked a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. That was when Amaya saw the dark shadows under his eyes. Upon further appraisal, she noticed his shoulders bent forward, like he was being crushed by some invisible weight.
“I’m not delaying your return home,” he said after a long pause. “We’ll arrive in Vaelstead in about four days, depending on the wind. You can find your own way home from there.”
Amaya didn’t trust her ears. He was letting her go?
Her mouth fell open. “But what about the—”
“This?” Lexington reached into his pocket and held up the necklace. He levied a deadly serious stare on her. “You swear you don’t know how to use it?”
Repeating herself was getting irritating. “I swear. It’s just a necklace.”
“Then explain to me why its Aether readings were off the charts.”
“What?” Amaya’s spoon plopped in her bowl, clattering against the rim. “Are you serious?”
“Very, so you won’t be getting it back. But you’ll keep your life, which I think is more than a fair trade.”
Amaya wanted to go home, with or without the necklace. She could buy or commission a new locket—but the photo inside wasn’t replaceable.
“What are you planning to do with it?” she asked, gaze moving with the swaying pendant.
“We’re taking it to a scholar in Vaelstead to test further, and that’s all you need to know.”
Amaya thought she deserved to know a fair bit more, considering it belonged to her, but she had to choose her battles carefully. The photo.
“Well, can I at least . . .” Amaya reached out to grab the necklace, but Lexington yanked it away, scowling.
“As I said, you will not be getting this back.” His tone left no room for argument.
Amaya’s outstretched palm clenched into a fist. “I was only asking for—”
“I’ve decided there’s no need to imprison you here.
” Lexington began pacing the cell. “So, as long as you promise not to run amuck and get in the way, you’re free to roam my ship as you please.
I can even offer a bath, a bed, and some clean clothes until we reach Vaelstead.
But if you decide to try anything, such as taking this”—he flashed the chain—“all bets are off. Do we have an accord, Miss Sinclair?”
Amaya curled her fist, wanting to punch his perfect face.
But despite how angry she was, her spirits lifted at the idea of getting free rein of the ship.
While she’d still be a prisoner, that was a major cell upgrade.
The promise of a bath, a proper bed, and a change of clothes sounded like the epitome of luxury after the past few days.
She still wanted the photo back, but asking him again felt a little like playing with fire if he was prepared to set her free, and she didn’t trust him not to tear it on accident. So she didn’t push it now.
Transferring her soup to one hand, she held out the other to the Sky Lord. “Deal. And please, call me Amaya.”
Lexington reluctantly shook her hand. His grip was firm, his hand warm and rough compared to her soft skin.
“What shall I call you?”
He seemed perplexed by the question. “Me?”
“Is there someone else in here? Yes, you. William?”
“No. ‘Captain’ or ‘Lord Lexington’ will be fine.”
Amaya huffed. Men and their titles.
Lexington met her eyes. “You want my advice, Amaya?”
“Not really, no.”
“Stay out of trouble, remember whose ship you’re on, and enjoy the view.”
Amaya looked him over again and lifted her eyebrows; enjoying the view certainly wouldn’t be a problem.
“Hm. Yes, sir.” If there was a subtle mocking undertone to her voice, it wasn’t intentional. Or maybe it was.
Lexington glowered at her. “Captain.”
“Captain!” The hatch on the ceiling flung open and footsteps scurried down the stairs. “You wanted to see me?”
Amaya’s face lit up at the familiar voice. “Phineus!”
She set her bowl on the floor before rushing to the boy, throwing her arms around him without thinking. He hesitated a moment before circling his arms around her, too. When Amaya pulled away, she was happy to see he’d washed up and color had returned to his face. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, cheeks flushing. “See, I told you they’d come.”
Amaya grinned. “That you did.”
“Mouse.” Lexington’s voice took on an authoritarian tone.
“You’ll be attending to Miss Sinclair this evening.
See that she gets settled in. I’ve given her the freedom to explore the ship, except for my cabin, the weapons bay, and the relic vault.
But I want you to stand watch tonight and escort her to breakfast tomorrow before reporting to Ozzie. Understood?”
“Aye.” Phineus stood proudly and offered a salute. “You can count on me, Captain.”
“For your sake, I hope so.”
The captain shot Phineus a meaningful glare. He gulped.
“If she’d like to bathe,” Lexington continued, “you’ll fetch Serena.”
“Oh, I don’t mind running the—”
“You will fetch Serena. Unless you’d like to add latrine duty to your sentence.”
“Serena. ‘Course,” Phineus agreed without further argument. “Whatever you say, Captain.”
Without another word, Lord Lexington stalked through the open cell door. He looked back at Amaya one final time. “Welcome to the Maelstrom, Amaya. Don’t get yourself killed.”
With that, he was gone.
Phineus let out a shaky breath.
“It’s gonna take me a while to live down what happened in Aerasead,” he said. “I can’t help it. Sometimes my fingers just get this itch, like . . .”
Amaya twisted her lips to hide a smile, bending down to pick up her abandoned bowl and taking another bite of stew.
“So, you’re a kleptomaniac?” she teased.
“Uh, no. Well, maybe. I don’t know what that means,” Phineus said. “Anyway, is it really true you had the Skystone? That’s why Graven had you kidnapped? I haven’t seen it yet, but like . . .”
“That’s what they tell me.”