Chapter 7
Avera
Avera woke and blinked. She didn’t recognize the bed, one much more comfortable than what she’d been sleeping in of late. The covers were thicker and softer. The wall she faced smooth and varnished.
Whose cabin was she in? Because she was definitely on a ship, judging by the subtle rocking.
Last she recalled she’d been drowning. The water closed over her head and she panicked. Someone must have saved her. She’d have to thank them once she found out who.
She rolled to the other side and froze. The bed held someone else, their broad back definitely masculine.
As she sat up, quietly and carefully so as not to wake him, she noticed she wore a shirt of billowy gray large enough it covered her.
Mostly. Her bare legs hung out and the V of the neck plunged shockingly low on her torso.
As she eased to the foot of the bed, she spotted a familiar sword leaning by the door. In that moment she realized just whose room she found herself in
The captain’s. The question being, why?
Why had he put her in his room? In his bed? His shirt?
Wait, had he molested her while she’d been unconscious? She felt no soreness between her legs and from what she knew, her first time would hurt. Or so the maids claimed. She’d never intended to find out.
“You can stop trying to sneak so noisily. I’m awake,” grumbled the man.
“Did you compromise me?” she blurted, even as she felt certain the answer was no.
“What?” Griffon rolled to his back and frowned at her. It should be noted he looked ridiculously attractive. His hair was mussed from sleep, his jaw shadowed with the start of a beard. The breadth of his naked chest was exposed as the sheet lay pooled around his naval.
“I asked if you took liberties,” she huffed.
“No. And it’s insulting you would even think I might have. I prefer my women awake and willing,” he snapped with affront.
“Then why am I in your room, wearing your clothes?” She gestured to the shirt as she crouched on the foot of his bed.
“Dunno. After you got fished from the ocean, I told Monty to put you to bed. Apparently, he thought that meant mine.”
“Who’s Monty? Is he the one who saved me?”
“No.” A terse reply.
“Did he undress me?” she squeaked.
The captain shrugged. “No idea. You were already tucked in bed when I crawled in. Guess you’ll have to ask him.”
“I will and I’m telling you right now, if he took liberties—”
“Then I’ll toss him into the ocean myself.” A low growled promise.
“Oh.” She’d not expected that. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary. My crew know my rules,” was his flat response.
“Do you have many? What are they?” she asked, curious but also trying to ease her anxiety over being in such a situation.
“Listen when I talk. Do your job. No stealing from your mates. No raping. No killing of children.”
“Those seem reasonable.”
“What else did you expect?”
“I don’t know. You’re the first pirate I’ve ever met.”
“We’re people like anyone else.”
“Who’ve chosen to steal from others.”
He shrugged. “Not much choice given Saarpira doesn’t have any resources we can exploit.”
“If you had a choice, would you continue to pirate?”
“A moot question to ask, since we don’t have another option.”
“Say you did. Like, for example, a kingdom offered you employment.”
“As what?”
“Privateers patrolling coastlines.”
He snorted. “As if anyone is going to trust a former pirate to guard their coasts.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” she muttered.
“Daerva’s last admiral proved to be less than honest and satisfactory.
” While he might have kidnapped her, and talked frankly about being a pirate, she’d seen how his crew respected and loved him.
The captain treated them well, and that spoke to his character.
“Why, little queen, are you offering me a commission?”
“If I did, would you accept?”
“Probably not.”
“Why?” she asked, canting her head.
“Because I doubt I could take orders from you.”
“Can’t handle being under a woman?” she asked with an arched brow.
“Oh, I like being under a woman just fine,” he purred.
It took her a moment to realize he suggested something sexual, and her cheeks heated. “You are being wildly inappropriate.”
“Says the woman in my bed wearing naught but my shirt.”
“Not by choice,” she huffed, hopping to the floor.
“Given your attitude, I see you’ve recovered from your swim.”
“Hardly a swim. I was sinking like a rock.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t move your arms and legs.”
“Because I was unconscious,” she huffed. “Not that it would have mattered. I don’t know how to swim.”
He blinked at her with sinfully long lashes. “How do you not know how to swim?”
“I never learned. Velunda, the capital of Daerva where I lived, didn’t have anywhere to try.
The Lake of Tears is poisonous and I never went anywhere that had a body of water I couldn’t wade in.
” And even that could be dangerous. When escaping Fraegus Spire, she’d almost been eaten by a massive worm monster hidden in an underground lake.
“Which makes your idiocy last night even more egregious. Always tether in a storm.”
“I didn’t have time. I was busy fighting.”
“Make the time,” he growled. “Or next time there might not be someone there to save you.”
He had a point, but she hated to concede. “I’m hungry.”
“You know where the galley is.”
She pointed to her body. “I can’t go out like this.” The shirt ended mid-thigh.
“What do you expect me to do about that?”
“I need clothes,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
“You are so demanding,” the captain grumbled as he flung back the covers.
She got an eyeful of nude flesh before she, and her hot cheeks, turned away. “You slept with me naked?”
“I slept in my bed the way I always do.”
“Put something on,” she ordered. Although, it was too late. The sight of his muscles—and his manhood—remained engraved in her mind.
“Is the sight of me that hideous?” he asked, followed by the sound of steps as he crossed to the wardrobe.
“It’s improper,” was her pert reply.
“Says someone not used to living in close quarters. Privacy can be hard to achieve on a ship.” A cabinet door creaked, and she heard fabric being shaken out.
“I’ve been on board for days and you’re the first person in deshabille I’ve encountered.”
“Only because you got one of the rare cabins to yourself. If you were in the general crew quarters, you’d notice the difference.”
“I appreciate then that you gave me a room.”
“I did that mostly to spare my crew having to listen to you whining and puking.”
“I do not whine.”
“Why won’t you take me to Verlora to be killed? Wah,” he mocked.
“Why do you care if I die or not?”
“Because you’re worthless to me dead. You can turn around now.”
She whirled to see him wearing a shirt similar to her own as well as breeches. His feet remained bare, though. “You are callous.”
“Pragmatic.”
“Annoying.”
“Only because I won’t give in to your arrogant demands.”
“It’s not arrogant to want to do something to help my country.”
“No, it’s dumb because there’s nothing in Verlora for you or anyone,” was his harsh rebuttal.
“So you keep saying. I’d rather confirm that for myself.”
He sighed. “You just don’t give up.”
“You seem to have forgotten I have nothing to lose. A murderer stole my throne, influenced by an evil that’s trying to escape. My family is dead. My friends are now gone because of you. As is my horse. And all I have left is hope. Hope that I can still make a difference.”
“I envy you that. I lost mine a long time ago,” he said somberly.
“How long until we reach Saarpira?”
“Given the storm actually pushed us closer, a few days. But I don’t see why you care. You’ll still be my prisoner.”
“We’ll see about that. Now, pants, please, and a coat.”
“You want my clothes?” He arched a brow.
“I don’t see mine anywhere and I don’t have any spares thanks to your abduction.”
“My garments are much too large.”
“Obviously. I’ll need a belt or something.”
“I have a better idea.” He left and she stared in consternation at the door. She couldn’t exactly follow, not dressed in practically nothing.
Would he return? He’d not actually said.
She pivoted in his room, taking in the space.
Much larger than her cabin, it held a wardrobe full of clothes large enough to fit her twice, maybe even three times, around.
Further prowling showed a desk with nothing on it although the drawer yielded parchment and a stylus.
A map hung on the wall, and she eyed it with interest, especially the handwritten notes.
He’d drawn a circle in an area between Verlora and Saarpira marked with a K.
Another drawn shape north of the Daervanian continent with a U.
An oblong shape to the west of her country held a squiggle. Verlora itself had been X’d out.
Was she being foolish following Opal’s advice?
The captain sure seemed to think she was wasting her time, but what else could she do?
Hunted by her own soldiers, she had no home, no throne.
Her own people would turn her in for the reward.
Even if they deposed Benoit and recognized the lies, she still had the Zhos problem.
If that monster escaped, they were all doomed.
In that moment, everything seemed utterly hopeless.
Dejection struck and she slumped on the edge of his bed.
Perhaps she should give up and see if she could become a sailor.
Or even better, a mechanic. Garth claimed she had a gift for tinkering.
She could settle on Saarpira. Maybe see if Simhi and Kreed’s mother would take her on as an apprentice.
She could fix things until the world ended.
“Cap says you need some clothes.” Simhi entered without knocking, carrying a bundle of fabric.
Avera’s lips split into a smile. “That would be most welcome, please.”
“I brought you some of mine since I tossed yours. Undine slime is impossible to remove.”
“You undressed me?” Avera asked almost tentatively.
“Aye. Why? Did you think Cap did it?”