Chapter 55
“Port ahead!”
Quentin blinked against the bright sunlight, licking his chapped lips. He cracked his neck, trying to ignore the way the ropes around his skin burned. Delaynie tipped up her chin, shoulder brushing his as she tried to see over the ship’s high railing.
They’d been at sea for two long days. And every moment of it, besides a few escorted trips to the privy, had been spent tied to this main staff. They were, thankfully, mostly shielded from the worst of the sun, but Delaynie’s pale skin was still tinged pink.
Quentin was sure this ship had a brig. But keeping the two of them, with their red hair and freckled skin, on the deck was likely just another one of the pirates’ sick games.
The few times they were untied and led below deck was as terrifying for Quentin as the last. The crew took them one at a time, separating him from Delaynie. The first time, he’d thrashed and snarled until Delaynie pinned him with a stare that told him this wasn’t worth the fight.
He fucking hated it. But he’d obeyed, body tense like an adder as she was led away from him.
He didn’t relax until she emerged a few minutes later, looking relatively untouched.
Quentin guessed that shit-head captain had given orders not to lay a hand on either of them until they made port. He couldn’t imagine why, but it was the only thing that made sense. He knew men, knew the way they thought. A beautiful woman on board was like a siren’s temptation.
Then again, there were other women aboard this ship. In fact, a good portion of the crew were women, and from the sounds he heard late at night, they had no qualms consorting with their crew mates.
The blast of a horn tore through the clear sky. He took a swig from the water skin they’d been given, his bindings pulling taut.
He handed it to Delaynie when he was done. Her fingers brushed his, sparks jumping up his spine. She gave him a tentative smile, worry lining her pale eyes, and she took a deep drink.
Yeah. He could understand that. He felt the same worry.
These pirates might have rescued them, might have kept them alive, but that didn’t mean this luck of theirs would hold forever. If they could even call it luck.
The horn blared again. Rough hands grabbed Quentin’s arms, undoing his bindings and pulling him to his feet.
They could now see over the ship’s railing, giving them their first glimpse at the Kizar Islands and its capital port, Tenevra.
Kizar was a chain of three islands, with Tenevra tucked into a wide bay in the largest of them.
The colors of the island were rich and vibrant: crystalline blue waters, pearly white beaches, tropical trees and plants lining the coast. Great mountains wreathed in fog rose out of the jungle, watchful guardians over the seafaring people below.
Quentin stifled his grumble. This place just had to be beautiful, didn’t it?
“Ah, what a sight.” A hand clasped Quentin’s shoulder, the smarmy voice slipping between him and Delaynie.
Darius drew an exaggerated breath. “There’s nothing like sailing into the home port.
Can’t you feel it?” Darius’s grip on Quentin’s shoulder tightened.
“The excitement. The hunger. Tenevra will chew the both of you up and spit you out, and I can’t wait to watch. ”
A muscle ticked in Quentin’s jaw, and he shrugged off Darius’s hand. “Your threats are getting old. And, somehow, increasingly less creative.”
Darius chuckled. “I, again, admire your confidence. You’ll certainly need it.” The pirate prince backed away with a smirk, shouting an order to his crew.
“Do you really think this is going to work?”
Delaynie’s icy eyes were still locked on the port, auburn hair unbound and swirling around her face. Her brow was smooth, but her full lips and jaw were tight.
Quentin pushed a hand through his hair. “To be honest, Del, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. But I’ve never let a bit of uncertainty stop me before.”
She dipped her chin, the barest hint of a nod. “Just do me one favor?”
“Anything for you, little wolf.”
Those piercing eyes slid to him, a bit of humor flaring. “Please at least try to be diplomatic. I’d hate to have come all this way just to see you killed.”
Quentin barked a laugh, leaning his forearms on the ship’s railing. “I’ll try my best.”
The pirates didn’t rebind their hands as they were led off a gang plank onto a long, swaying pier.
Quentin supposed there was no use for bindings here. Not when their “hosts” were surrounded by the element they could use to form any weapon with a flick of their fingers.
Their escort consisted of Darius and four members of his crew.
The air in the bay was crisp and slightly sweet, the sun beating down on their exposed skin.
Darius led them down the dock, greeting sailors who lounged outside the other ships moored on the pier with loud gaffs and hands clapped on backs.
Obnoxious. All these gods-damned pirates were loud and chaotic and obnoxious. Quentin ground his teeth, his mood darkening.
A soft hand brushed his. He glanced down at Delaynie, who gave him a pointed look.
Right. Diplomacy. Civility. He fucking hated this, but he remembered their task. He could—would—do this for their queen.
Mariah had trusted him with this, and he would not fuck it up.
They were nearing the end of the pier, but instead of continuing toward the island and city nestled around the beaches, Darius led them to the right. The dock continued, running through a fleet of smaller merchant ships before heading back toward the deeper parts of the bay.
Where were these pirates taking them?
They rounded a bend, the end of the pier coming into sight, and he understood.
A great galleon sat tied to the docks, so large that its three masts dwarfed all the nearby ships. Several gangplanks connected its multiple levels to the dock, its deep hull fitted with rows of heavy cannons.
Darius smirked at their slack-jawed expressions. “Oh, did the Onitans think the pirate lord would hold his court in a pretty little palace like their queen?” His crewmates chuckled. “The sea is our home. My father will see you in the only place he does his business: aboard The Serpent’s Mercy.”
Quentin swallowed. He didn’t like this. If he were being honest, he hadn’t minded their time at sea. But to be trapped in a contained space with the ruthless pirate lord, surrounded by an element their enemies could manipulate to their very whim—
“We’ve come to meet with Kizar’s lord on his terms.” Delaynie nodded at the great ship at the end of the dock. “So, lead the way, Darius.”
Darious blinked then chuckled. Something that Quentin really fucking hated heated in his dark gaze. “You are a fiery little thing. I like it.”
Quentin had to choke down the growl curdling in his chest. The pirate turned on his heel, continuing toward his father’s ship.
“If you want me to be diplomatic,” Quentin seethed to Delaynie under his breath as they followed Darius, his crewmates falling into step a few paces behind them, “then please stop provoking him.”
“Provoking him?” Delaynie’s gaze seared the side of his face. “I’m doing my job, Quentin. I’m a Lady of the Onitan Court. Negotiating with those beyond our borders is what I was raised and trained to do.”
“I understand that,” Quentin said. “But I don’t like the way he—”
“He what? Looks at me?” Delaynie tipped up her chin. “I don’t belong to you, Quentin. I’m the one who decides how people look at me. Not you.”
“That’s not what I meant, Del.”
She clenched her jaw. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. Like I said, we have a job to do.”
Quentin wanted to say more.
He wanted to say that yes, they had a job to do.
That didn’t mean he could simply shut off a part of his mind or swallow down all the thoughts that had been brewing for weeks.
It didn’t mean he could simply forget that night in the Vathan jungle, where they’d gotten so close, had almost said so much.
The way he couldn’t stop fucking thinking about the way she smelled like coconut and vanilla, the way she looked so sharp but was really so soft, the way she made him want to scream and cry and tear the whole world down just for a chance to sit at her feet.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he dropped a half-step behind Delaynie and followed her into the towering height of The Serpent’s Mercy.
Gods, the ship was insane.
Mahogany flooring. Sweeping staircases. Gold inlaid into the bannisters and detailed along the walls. From the docks it looked like a warship, but inside it seemed built for pleasure and luxury.
Every inch of it made Quentin want to slip his daggers free from his baldric and lose himself upon this ship.
But that would be bad.
Right?
Darius sauntered ahead of them, hands shoved into his pockets, a picture of leisurely grace and obnoxious confidence. The pirates hadn’t even bothered to relieve Quentin of his weapons. They were that confident in their superiority on the sea.
For once, Quentin couldn’t blame them. He was fast, but he had no doubts the magic of these people was faster.
Darius halted outside a splendidly crafted door, carvings of kraken and sea dragons and other mythical creatures of the deep etched into the wood. He gave two firm knocks before rocking back on his heel, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
Quentin almost lifted a brow. Was the pirate prince nervous?
A gruff voice answered from the other side of the door, deep and steeped in a lifetime of power.
“Enter.”
Darius, jaw clenched, undid the latch and ushered them into the pirate lord’s office.
If Quentin had thought this ship was grand, it was nothing compared to this room.