Chapter 51
The water was quiet and loud all at once.
Quentin’s back hit the now-submerged deck, pinning him beneath the water. He still gripped the door handle leading below deck. Something boomed and burst, echoing through the water.
A window shattering.
Delaynie’s pounding on the other side of the wood grew softer, weaker. Gritting his teeth, Quentin fought against the swirling currents threatening to pull them both down with the ship. He braced his feet on the deck, planted his hands on the door, and pushed.
Maybe it was the fear coursing through him.
Maybe it was the pressure of the water on a door that was never meant to be submerged.
Maybe it was something else, something he was ready to acknowledge, but his little wolf wouldn’t let him say.
The door buckled. The brass lock snapped, another boom under the water. The door flew open, water rushing into the cabin.
Through the frothing, churning sea, a pale hand reached out. He surged forward, the current pulling and snapping at him.
Her hand went limp just as he grabbed it.
With a desperate roar that used breath he didn’t have, Quentin braced against the doorframe and heaved Delaynie from the ship’s cabin.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to ignore the panic at how she’d gone lifeless, how those bright blue eyes were closed.
They needed to get out from under here, or they would drown. His lungs burned, vision spotting around the edges.
The current was slowing, the ship above him rocking as it bobbed in place on the surface.
Quentin pushed off the door frame, using the deck to guide him forward, hoping and praying to whatever god would listen that it would take him to a place where they could escape from beneath the capsized vessel.
A soft golden light flickered to life ahead of him. As if his prayer was somehow answered.
It was of the allume lamps that had been mounted to the main staff. Now fallen and submerged, but still alight, still giving off enough of a glow to illuminate the water around them.
Enough to illuminate the outline of the ship’s railing and the promise of safety beyond.
Quentin’s lungs squeezed, desperate to draw in air. He kicked and grabbed the water with a wild urgency, arm still wrapped tightly around Delaynie, swimming madly for the railing.
Hang in there, little wolf.
They hit the railing. He pulled them both down, diving beneath it. Soft streaks of dawn sunlight filtered through the water, and he nearly passed out from relief.
Quentin broke the surface with a gasping cough, choking on his greedy breaths. A large piece of wood floated less than a foot away, and with the last of his strength, he hauled himself and Delaynie onto it. Her hair splayed around her, nearly black from the water.
Her chest was still.
Wild, crazed fear gripped him close. He grabbed her head in his hands and pushed her mouth open, tilting her chin back and to the side.
“Breathe, little wolf.” His voice was hoarse and croaking. “Fucking breathe.”
The world stood still.
When she trembled under his touch, he almost lost consciousness with his relief.
Delaynie shook, her chest convulsing. Her face scrunched and she pushed herself onto her side, coughing and retching, sea water leaving her body.
The sound of her drawing in a ragged breath was like music to his fucking ears.
Quentin ran his hands over her head as she continued to cough up water and draw in air, whispering soothing, nonsensical words. He was exhausted and a bit delirious, but it didn’t matter, because she was alive.
They both were. Somehow, by some miracle, they’d both made it.
“Quentin?” Delaynie finally whispered. Quentin couldn’t help his grin as her eyes tipped up to meet his.
“Welcome back, little wolf,” he said. “Way to shave years off my life.”
She blinked, a hazy shroud still covering her expression. “What… What happened?”
“A storm. A bad one—” Quentin stopped when he noticed the stillness in the air.
It was an eerie calm. The sun was just cresting the horizon, painting the sky in soft golds and pinks. A few clouds dotted the sky, but the seas were calm, the waves gently rocking the capsized vessel.
All traces of the storm were gone.
Confusion and panic again beaded beneath his skin. “What the fuck…” He searched the wreckage for signs of other survivors, for more members of the crew, for Cecco.
But the seas were still and silent. Their only companion was the overturned ship and the pieces of debris around them.
“Something isn’t right.” He pushed up, trying to get a better view over the ship. The plank beneath him wobbled, and Delaynie let out a yelp.
Her hand gripped his forearm, nails digging into his skin. “Quentin.” There was a twinge of urgency in her voice, a tone he’d never heard from her before.
Quentin dropped back into the board, grabbing her hand in his. “What is it, little wolf?”
She swallowed, something manic flashing in her eyes. “If this is it,” she said, “then I have to tell you. I have to tell someone.” Her cheeks flushed, strands of auburn hair plastered to her temples. “I-I think I’m—”
She never got to finish.
A searing horn echoed across the still seas, cutting through the sunrise like a knife. It was a horn Quentin had heard before, a sounding call he’d become too familiar with over the winter. A bellowing that still sometimes haunted his nightmares.
Quentin and Delaynie held each other tighter as they lifted their gazes to the horizon.
Where a Kizar ship with dark sails skimmed across the waves, heading right for the wreckage of The Vesper.
“Well, would you look at this, boys!” A dark-haired man leaned over the railing of the Kizar ship, its dark hull gliding slowly through the remains of The Vesper. “Looks like we’ve got a couple of floaters!”
Quentin glared at the pirate, hand clenching into a tight fist. But he held his tongue.
Not for his own sake. Nah, he didn’t give a shit about that.
It was Delaynie trembling beside him, her teeth chattering in the cold waters, that had him holding back his reckless impulses.
It was a warm day, a strong sun emerging from behind the storm, but the ocean was deep and cold.
He hated this, fucking loathed this situation they’d found themselves in, but Delaynie needed to get dry.
They wouldn’t make it if they were left to drift aimlessly through the Mirrored Sea.
A heavy ladder hit the water with a splash. The same man from before appeared over the rail, smirking.
“Lucky for you two, I’m in the mood to pick up strays. I’d hurry up with it; who knows if I might change my mind.”
Quentin didn’t want to. He didn’t trust these fucking pirates for a single moment. But Delaynie gave his arm a weak squeeze, and something similarly squeezed in his chest.
“We have to, Quentin,” she said softly, eyes tired as she stared longingly at the ladder. “This was always the plan.”
“I never planned on a shipwreck, little wolf.”
“The pirates,” she wheezed then coughed. “The pirates were always the plan.” She pushed off their floating piece of debris, paddling through the water toward the ship and the waiting ladder.
“Always happy to welcome a lady on board!” called the dark-haired pirate, grinning as the crew’s laughter rose into the calm air around them.
Protective anger flooded Quentin. He dived after Delaynie with gritted teeth, catching up to her quickly. They reached the ladder, each grabbing a side. He stopped her when she moved to place a foot on the lowest rung.
“Let me go first.”
“Does it really matter?”
A muscle tightened in Quentin’s jaw. “Yes. It does. I won’t leave you alone with them for a single moment.”
Delaynie hesitated then slowly nodded, moving to the side.
“Any day now! Or else you’re getting left here with the rest of the dead.”
Quentin swallowed, pushed his shoulders back, and climbed.
His limbs were trembling by the time he reached the top. He used the last of his strength to haul himself to the deck. The ladder shook as Delaynie followed, but he wasn’t watching her ascent.
No, his focus was on the fifty pirates who now surrounded him, their poses relaxed but their eyes gleaming with a dark, wicked curiosity.
“Quentin?”
He tore his attention from the pirates, grasping the hand Delaynie reached for him. He pulled her up beside him, tucking her behind his body.
He didn’t miss the way the crew’s grins kicked just a little bit higher.
The dark-haired man from before pushed through the crowd. He still wore that fucking smirk, a burnished gold ring glinting in his bottom lip and a sickle-shaped blade on his hip.
“What an interesting find the two of you have made for us today.” He stalked a slow circle around them, like a shark circling its prey. “Shame to lose The Vesper.” He clucked his tongue. “But the sea is wild and unpredictable like that.” Dark chuckles arose again from the crew.
The man stopped, piercing green eyes narrowing on them both. “I knew Cecco’s crew. Neither of you were a part of it. So—who are you, and why were you sailing aboard a merchant ship to Kizar?”
Delaynie tightened her hold on his skin. A warning, or a request, he wasn’t sure.
They’d decided long before leaving Onitan soil that they would give the pirates nothing but the truth. Quentin intended to stick to that.
“We are emissaries from the Queen of Onita. We travel to seek an audience with the pirate lord.”
Quentin wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Surprise, maybe? Just the barest hint of shock that they’d rescued two representatives from a queen whose capital they’d attacked less than half a year ago?
He never would’ve expected the response they received.
Which was…nothing.
Not a single murmur rose from the crew. The only response was from the dark-haired pirate, who stopped walking, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Damn,” he said with a lifted brow. “So, she was telling the truth.”
She? Who the fuck—
“If it’s an audience with the pirate lord you want, then an audience with the pirate lord you shall get.” More dark laughter from the crew, and Quentin’s skin crawled as the pirate’s smile hitched higher.
“Lucky for you, you’ve been picked up by the pirate lord’s son himself! A royal welcome for some royal guests.”
Quentin’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Delaynie’s nails bit into his skin.
The man uncrossed his arms and extended them with a flourish, giving them a dramatic, mocking bow. “Captain Darius Draethos, son of Lord Varyn Draethos, at your service.”
Quentin had to stifle a groan. These fucking pirates.
“I honestly don’t give a shit who you are,” he growled, a hand drifting to the baldric still laying across his chest. “So long as you get us to the Kizar Islands unharmed.”
The captain—Darius—reeled back, as if slapped. “Where are all your cute little Onitan manners?” He grinned. “I thought you were all better trained than that.”
“I guess I never learned.”
“No. Maybe you didn’t.” Darius’s gaze drifted past Quentin. “But based on the horror on her face, I bet she did.” His green eyes glinted. “My, aren’t you a pretty little thing? They can dress you down in breeches and drop you in the Mirrored Sea, but you reek of rich Onitan blood.”
“Don’t you fucking look at her.” Quentin’s snarl ripped from his throat before he could swallow it.
He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it.
More laughter rippled through the crew. Darius took a menacing step forward. “Oh, did I strike a nerve?” He crowded into Quentin’s space, grin growing wilder, tinged with insanity. “Is she yours, then? Or are you just hoping that one day she lets a runt like you taste that tight, well-bred cunt—”
Quentin’s snarl turned into a roar. He lunged for the pirate, dagger in hand and already aimed for the vein in his throat. His blade whistled through the air, target in reach—
Something cool and wet wrapped around his wrist, yanking him back and slamming him into the ship’s railing. He struggled, but coils of water wound around his arms and legs, pinning him in place. His dagger clattered to the deck.
Darius chuckled, shaking his head. He snapped his fingers and two men rushed Delaynie, grabbing her arms, tying a rope around her wrists.
“Let go of her—”
“I’m fine, Quentin.” Her cool eyes met his. Any lingering panic from the wreck had left her, replaced by her polished, regal aura. Soaking wet and exhausted, but a lady in every right. “They won’t hurt me.”
Quentin groaned, struggling again against the watery bindings. “Delaynie—”
“As precious as this is,” Darius interrupted, “it’s also a little boring.
” He turned to a member of his crew. “Tie them to the main staff. Then make sail for Tenevra.” Darius cast a glance back at Quentin, corner of his mouth kicking up.
“If they want to meet daddy dearest so badly, then I would hate to be the one to deny them that treat.”
The hairs on the back of Quentin’s neck stood on end.
The bindings of water fell from wrists, quickly replaced by two men who tied his hands with solid rope behind his back.
Together, he and Delaynie were marched to the center of the deck and pushed to the ground against the main staff.
The crew made quick work of their bindings, running coils of rope across their arms and chests.
Shouts filled the air as the ship was readied for sailing. The great black sheets of canvas were unfurled, thundering in the air. The air was calm, but they caught the slight breeze, and the ship lurched across the waves.
Delaynie was silent beside him. Her hair was starting to dry, the auburn lengths blowing across her face.
Quentin heaved a sigh, thumping his head back against the wood of the main staff. “Well,” he said after a while, when the sun was beginning to beat down on them in earnest. “I think that actually went quite well, all things considered.”
Delaynie didn’t answer, but Quentin caught the slight upward curl at the corners of her mouth.