Chapter 17
Anya Delemond
“Thank you for dinner, Annette. Or, I suppose it’s breakfast. I don’t know how you turn salt pork and carrots into such a feast, but you do.
” Anya beamed at the cook as she collected their plates.
She’d practically licked her dish clean.
Clinking plates and silverware surrounded them as the rest of the crew ate with similar gusto.
Her mood had improved markedly since adjusting to their new nocturnal schedule.
Starry nights, unencumbered moonlight, and best of all: no Roderick.
“Is it magic?” Blackbird’s eyes were sparkling. “It’s magic, isn’t it?”
Magic food. That would be Blackbird’s dream come true.
“Oh psh.” Annette waved them off. “It’s all in the spices. Remember, I’m happy to make you some real breakfast whenever you’d like. You don’t have to eat what the rest of the crew has for dinner.”
“Your hearty meals get us through the night. And we get breakfast for dinner every day! I can’t imagine a better arrangement,” Blackbird bubbled.
“Speaking of which, we should get started.” Anya pressed her hands to her lower back and stretched. “It’s nearly dark. Thank you again.”
“Let’s get to it!” Blackbird darted out of the galley and up the steps, then stopped short at the landing.
“What is it?”
“Was Canis Minor always that high on the horizon?”
Anya blinked in disbelief the moment the dusky night sky came into view.
The stars were all wrong. She felt sick; dizzy.
They’d spent the entire evening prior and even a large chunk of that morning before bed making calculations for the rest of their voyage.
Canis Minor was moving the opposite way she intended, and Draco was supposed to be twenty degrees to the left of the bow by tonight.
Now, it was dead ahead. There was no telling how far off course they were—only that they were sailing away from Aquillas.
Only one person besides herself could order a change in course. A steaming wave of fury set fire to her senses.
“That pile of ox dung,” she growled. “I’m going to have a word with him. I’ll meet you back at our cabin.”
Blackbird nodded almost too quickly and disappeared down the steps.
Her friend had been nervous around the Lord ever since he’d barged into the captain’s quarters and insulted her remedy.
She kept catching Blackbird trying to conceal her aches and pains so vehemently, Anya had to insist on using the salve on her hands.
Her friend was enduring terrible discomfort just because of Roderick’s idiotic comment. She’d never forgive him for that.
“Bryson!” she roared. “Are you happy now? I’m talking to you!
” She stalked to the center of the deck.
The stars grew brighter on the watery horizon as she hunted for her noble prey.
Lower deck? Not a fang in sight. Stern? Just a purple wyvern fast asleep.
Captain’s quarters? Empty. Crow’s nest? Nothing.
“Ugh!” She dug her fingers into her hair. “You rat bastard, where are you hiding? Explain yourself!”
“I’m not hiding, Your Highness.” Roderick stood above her on the bow, leaning against the baluster overlooking the main deck, as comfortable as a cat on a fence. She was going to check there next, of course.
She stormed up the steps and yanked him by the collar. An infuriating smile curved his lips.
“What in the blue blazes am I looking at?” She jabbed a finger at the constellations above the kelpie carved into the point of the ship.
“Stars? Honestly, Princess, I thought you would know that.” He chuckled.
She shoved him into the crook of the bow. “Don’t be smart with me! You altered our course!”
“Yes. I did.” He straightened his collar. The gall he had to be preening in this moment! “Where is your gratitude?”
Gratitude? Gratitude? Her blood boiled.
“You should be grateful I haven’t fed you to these forsaken seas! An entire evening and morning of calculations, wasted! Do you enjoy torturing me? I’m going to have to stay up all day tomorrow fixing my course plan! Think of all the time we’ve lost! Think of the children!”
His brows went from haughty to haunting. “Now hold on, Princess. Don’t you dare imply that I wasted time for humor’s sake. Have you considered asking me why I did it?”
Her rage faded into a steady simmer at those words.
She assumed he’d done it to get her to talk to him, since he was too proud to apologize to Lady Rowan.
If he’d done that simple task, she would’ve immediately resumed treating him with her usual level of faux cordiality.
But perhaps she wasn’t on his mind as much as he seemed to be infesting hers.
“What am I saying?” He put a hand to his temples and shook his head. “Of course you wouldn’t ask me. You aren’t talking to me, remember?”
She tried to form a snarl, but it settled into a pout. “And whose fault is that?” That was a question even a feeble-minded knight like him should be able to answer.
“Yours?” he said cautiously.
“Yours! Yours, you knightly cur!” She trapped him against the bow with an arm across the chest. His cheeks tinged crimson. “I made myself quite clear that night. But no. You couldn’t do something as simple as apologize to Lady Rowan!”
His brows lifted. “That was all?”
“And yet, you made it seem a monumental request.”
“I will apologize to Lady Rowan. Knight’s honor”—he grabbed her arm with two fingers and gingerly removed it from his chest—“if you listen to what I have to say.”
“Fine.” She hoisted herself onto the baluster, prepared to endure a long-winded, half-assed excuse. “Make it quick.”
He placed a hand on either side of her, right on top of her own—forcing her to stay put and listen, as if she’d cover her ears and sing a shanty to avoid hearing him.
“There were icebergs on our course. I tried to have Yomira melt the largest one, but it didn’t work.
She exhausted herself, I’ll have you know.
Tight maneuvers were possible, but there could have been icebergs hiding beneath the surface.
I decided the time lost correcting our course would be better than a ship with a hole in the hull. ”
That…was a way better explanation than she thought. She would’ve done the same. Except for asking Yomira to melt the icebergs. There was no way that would work. Though she commended the effort.
Roderick couldn’t hear that though. His ego would surely burst at the seams. She took in his earnest expression. He seemed to be waiting for her response with bated breath. Why did he seem to care so much how she reacted? He got her speaking to him again, after all. That was all he’d wanted.
“Still. You should have woken me.” She turned her head away and pressed her lips into a thin line. Who knows? Maybe she would have come up with a better solution. Maybe together they could have thought of something.
“And saunter right into the wolf’s den? No thank you.” His words were dismissive, but there was a slight chuckle to his voice. Her mind hung on the word.
Den.
His room at The Three Hares sprang to mind. It was so dark and warm, like he’d bottled a temperate spring breeze and popped the cork indoors, and she was downwind from him, breathing in his peppermint and leather scent.
“I’m not…” Her voice trailed off as she turned back to him, enraptured by his glacier-blue eyes.