Chapter 21 Play Drinking Games with Pickled Organs #3
Griffin went first, his throw wild but enthusiastic. “For sh-ience!”
The organ arced high, sailing well past the target—and Nyx materialized from the clouds like a pink-scaled arrow. She snatched it midair with a triumphant screech, her jaws snapping shut around the pickled prize.
“Nyx, no!” I called, but she was already winging away. “You don’t even know what that is!”
She ignored me completely.
“Automatic disqualification,” Thorne said. He went next, landing another perfect throw because apparently being drunk didn’t affect his ability to hit things. “For professionalism.”
Sebastian somehow managed his first successful throw of the entire game. “For not embarrassing myself further!”
We all cheered.
Kazimir stepped up, the last brain in one hand, his other arm still holding me around the waist. “For my wife,” he said, then threw it with perfect accuracy.
I stood on my tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “How sweet, Lord Blackrose.” Kaz caught me as I lost my balance.
Captain Brecca tallied the final score. “Thorne wins, somehow, despite being a team of one.”
“D’mand a recount,” Griffin said, stumbling over to the target. “M’ lasht throw went through the hole. It jush… went through sho fasht you couldn’ see it.”
“The dragon ate it,” Thorne pointed out.
“Wellllll”—Griffin hiccuped—“thash a hole isn tit?”
As they argued, I leaned into Kazimir’s side, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. The ship began its nightly descent, dropping below the cloud cover to skim just above the waves. The temperature rose, and the air became heavier with salt and moisture.
Tomorrow we’d reach the God Spire. Tomorrow we’d have to be Lord and Lady Blackrose, powerful and terrifying.
But today, we’d thrown organs at boxes and gotten drunk on possibly poison, and it had been perfect.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For being ridiculous with me.”
Kaz turned me in his arms, studying my face. “I’ve conquered kingdoms, Arabella. Destroyed armies. Built an empire on fear and power.” His thumb traced my cheek. “But this—being ridiculous with you—might be the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“You are drunk,” I accused, but my heart was racing.
“Possibly. Doesn’t make it less true.”
Behind us, Sebastian had started singing something about flowers and regret while Griffin tried to harmonize. Thorne was collecting his winnings from Brecca, who was trying not to laugh and mostly failing. Then they began arguing over their bet on what constituted PDA between me and Kaz.
“We should probably send everyone to dinner before they fall overboard,” I said.
A distant, pitiful screech echoed across the water.
I looked up to see Nyx hovering unsteadily about fifty yards off the port bow.
The dragon’s body convulsed with a wet, rattling heave—the kind of sound that starts deep in the belly and promises disaster.
Her wings stuttered mid-beat, her entire body lurching sideways as she banked hard toward the ship.
“No,” I breathed, frozen in place as the calamity hurtled toward us.
“Move!” Brecca shouted at Sebastian.
But he was too drunk and too slow. Nyx swooped low over the deck and projectile-vomited the pickled organ—along with the seafood she’d eaten today—directly onto Sebastian’s head.
The splatter was spectacular.
Sebastian stood frozen as a piece of something unidentifiable slid down his face. The flowers around his feet immediately wilted and died.
Kazimir’s laugh was the kind of deep, genuine sound I’d never heard from him before. He actually bent forward, one hand pressed to his stomach, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
“That’s—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Called it,” Thorne said. “The dragon vomits second. Directly onto the pretty lord. That’s got to be worth bonus points.”
“I’ll allow it,” Brecca said, making a note and pulling her shirt up over her nose. “But the deckhands are going to demand hazard pay to clean that up.”
Nyx landed on the bow, looking simultaneously miserable and smug.
Sebastian made a small, defeated sound and swayed toward the stairs.
“Stop right there,” Brecca commanded, her captain’s voice cutting through Kaz’s continued laughter. “You’re not tracking that smell through my ship.”
He froze mid-step. “I beg your pardon?”
“Strip. Now. Throw the clothes overboard.” She pointed at the railing. “Everything. I don’t care if you’re a lord or a king—that stench isn’t going below deck.”
“Here?” Sebastian’s voice cracked. “In front of everyone?”
“Would you prefer to still be inside the clothes when they get tossed over the side?” Brecca asked sweetly.
Sebastian looked around desperately for support. Griffin was too busy trying not to fall over. Thorne was grinning. I was clinging to Kazimir, who was still shaking with laughter.
With a sound of pure defeat, Sebastian began unlacing his tunic.
“I can burn them!” Griffin offered, having found a mast to hug for support. At least, that’s what I thought he said. It came out more like “Ickenburndem.” He gave a dramatic hand flourish. “Been wurrr-king on a new ’cineration shpell—”
“NO!” everyone shouted in unison.