Chapter Twenty-Nine A New Heading
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A NEW HEADING
Not even in the most debauched corners of the underworld had she been part of such a riotous gathering.
Reya leaned against the railing of the quarterdeck, sipping her rum and watching the crew of the Acadia dance and gamble and drink themselves senseless.
The Kraken blood was locked in a chest on a stack of crates in the center of the ship.
The group Kalúe assigned to drain the tentacle piece they’d recovered from the water had worked through the slime and shredded membrane for hours, poking holes in each side with the Etellinian steel dagger in Kalúe’s study and shoving glass vials into the streams to catch the runoff.
Much of it had been lost in the drag through the water, but when they were done, they had extracted over a pint of blood.
In other words, they were all rich as hell.
When Thance had emerged from the hull and seen Caelan healed and standing tall, he’d pulled Caelan into an embrace so tight Reya almost cried.
And Omira—she’d actually smiled. Not the cold, deadly smirk she usually wore, but a true smile—wide and bright.
Reya still wasn’t entirely sure they hadn’t all died and gone to the Void if Omira was smiling.
“To the captain!” one of the crew shouted, and they all raised their glasses in salute.
“To the Guardian!” they added, to another round of deafening cheers.
Reya took another swig of rum to hide her face. She had done her best to avoid eye contact with the crew in the three days of heavy repairs since their battle with the Kraken. When she did meet their eyes, she saw both reverence and fear.
Word of what she’d done would spill across the Rhiterran Empire like a flood, a warning to the king that the magic-born would not be so easily wiped out. Some would believe it. Some wouldn’t. It didn’t matter, though.
She’d done her part for the magic-born. Now the Order of Light had its general back, and soon it would have the numbers it needed from Delthia.
Just because the world knew the Guardian existed didn’t mean she needed to own the title.
This wasn’t her war. What she owed to Hector Connery came before all else.
She needed to finally put her ghosts to rest.
Reya absentmindedly fingered the laces of the top Kalúe had gifted her.
The bloodred blouse was a rich silk that fell off her shoulders.
It required no corset thanks to the strings on the sides that cinched the fabric tightly around the waist. The black leather pants and boots were comfortable and clean.
Beneath her salt-thick curls, feathered earrings brushed her bare shoulders.
Reya felt beautiful for the first time in weeks.
Her Ire had returned to its violet hue shortly after they’d left the Deep, and she had to admit she was glad. The new iridescent hue seemed to linger longer this time than the last.
“It’s nice seeing you in proper clothes again,” Caelan said, making her jump. He leaned against the railing beside her, and the heat of him was like sitting down before a hearth.
“You say that like I regularly walk around naked in front of you.”
“You have walked around naked in front of me,” he pointed out. When her lips curved, he added, “They suit you.”
A visible burden had been lifted from Caelan. Now that the full height of his power had been restored, so had the full weight of his confidence, the kind of which she was painfully attracted to.
“Maybe I’ll become a pirate. I think I’d make a rather good one.”
“I’m sure Kalúe would let you join her crew. You’ve more than proved yourself.”
Reya cocked a brow. “I nearly sank her father’s ship.”
“You saved her lover’s life,” he said. “Quite spectacularly, I might add. A life debt from a Pirate Lord is no small thing.”
In exchange for saving Zantae, Kalúe had sworn a life debt to Reya. Anything in the captain’s power was hers for the asking, something the princess would surely regret one day.
“It was pretty spectacular,” Reya conceded. “And she’s not a Pirate Lord yet. But I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
“You saved my life as well.”
“I’ll send you my bill,” she drawled.
“Reyanwyn.”
She met his gaze, unable to help but grin at the flames that had sprung to life again there.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said softly. That reminded her. Reya lifted the chain from her neck. The Earth Star ring swung like a pendulum between them before she uncurled the fingers of his left hand and pressed it into his palm. “If you give that to me a third time, you’re not getting it back.”
Lips curving, his hand closed around hers, trapping her. He searched her face, for what, she didn’t know. Permission, maybe?
She wasn’t going to stop him, even though she was pretty sure she’d stopped breathing.
So slowly, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her brow.
Not the kiss she was expecting, but still.
She watched his chest lift as he inhaled, taking her scent into his lungs.
Then she pulled away, clearing her throat into her drink.
It was all very… confusing. He was confusing.
She didn’t know where they stood. After what he’d said to her that night in Port Talluah and later on the docks, she’d assumed the moment they’d shared had been a combination of poor decision-making and a dry spell.
When he’d kissed her again in the Deep, she’d tried again to explain it away, telling herself it had merely been to pull her back from that place of grief and memory.
It was hardly the first time he’d aroused her in an attempt to get through to her.
Come back to me, thief.
But since then, everything felt different.
She was aware of his proximity constantly and felt the touch of his eyes on her just as often.
Her fantasies had become downright shameless.
Living in the same tiny quarters, literally scooting around each other to dress for the day, wasn’t helping matters at all.
More than once, she’d caught him staring at her across the table in the mess hall like he wanted to undress her right there in front of everyone, and she’d had to remind herself that public indecency was frowned upon at mealtimes, even on a pirate ship.
Their attraction was pointless. Caelan was at the center of a major world conflict and would be for many years to come.
The longer she stayed with him, the more she risked exposure.
He would never abandon his people to be with her, and she couldn’t ask it of him.
There was a time when a fleeting affair might have been appealing to her, but now the thought of that with Caelan just made her ill.
Footsteps creaked on the quarterdeck behind them as Thance reached the top step, a glass in each hand. When he saw them standing so closely, Reya watched him debate turning around.
“Is that for me?” she asked, snapping the tension.
“Actually, it’s for him.” Thance handed it to Caelan.
Omira appeared behind him, a drink in her own hand. Caelan still wasn’t speaking to her, despite Reya explaining that Omira had done nothing she hadn’t explicitly asked for. The look he’d given Reya upon receiving that information had warned of all sorts of punishments, and not the fun kind.
“Take it easy, though,” Thance continued. “I don’t think Reya is ready to see your other side.”
Reya’s brows rose. “Oh?”
Caelan closed his eyes and tipped his chin to the stars. “You get raging drunk one time, and they never let you forget it.”
Thance choked on his rum. “One time?”
A shrug. “Once or twice.”
“Don’t let his stoicism fool you, Reya. Before he was a general, he was just as wild as the rest of us.”
Oh, there was no way she was letting this go. “Spill.”
“We couldn’t go five minutes in a tavern before he was draped in females. What was it you used to say, brother? They like the uniform?”
Not once had she seen Caelan blush. But he did then. “I was young and stupid. And I do faintly recall you being in those taverns with me.”
Reya tried to imagine Caelan that way. Tried to picture a time when life and war had not weighed so heavily on his shoulders. It was a stunning picture—minus the females, obviously.
For every moment she’d spent with him, Omira and Thance had a thousand more.
She and Caelan could spend a lifetime together and that would never change.
They were a unit, and one she wasn’t truly part of, though she regularly saw an invitation in Thance’s eyes.
She’d fulfilled her half of the bargain, and Caelan visibly no longer needed her the way he had.
Often, she found herself hovering on the edges of their conversations with nothing to contribute, listening instead and wondering what it might be like to have friends who would die for you.
“You were both drunken fools,” Omira chimed in. “Time has hardly made you bearable.”
Reya snorted and Omira glared at her, but then that glare softened. Just a bit, as if the Alethian had remembered something. Thance and Caelan carried on their conversation, and Omira took a begrudging step closer.
“Thanks for not making me kill you,” she said flatly.
“Thank Caelan,” Reya said, tone just as dry.
The female looked like she was biting her words. At last, the words won. “The move with the tentacle, the leap from the yards… Did your crime lord teach you that?”
Reya snorted. “I come up with some things on my own.”
Omira drummed her fingers against the rail, nodding once as if that was that. “It was impressive,” she said finally.
Reya wanted to laugh, but she swallowed it down, knowing that she would never receive a compliment from Omira again if she let it free.
The viol player broke into a wild solo, fingers plucking rapidly on the strings. Kalúe and Zantae entered the circle center, hand in hand, to the whoops and cheers of the crew. Zantae spun her into a dance so shameless Reya almost looked away.
Caelan stifled a laugh at her expression. “Kalterrans aren’t shy.” He added almost as an afterthought, “Neither are Sages,” and Reya’s flush deepened.