6. Bryn
Bryn
I swallowed hard and didn’t move. Damn that bread. And Sverre. And my need to wander. I should have stayed in my abandoned broom closet and starved until we reached Grim.
The owner of the rumbly voice stepped closer, my back warming from his proximity. “Do we have another stowaway on my ship?”
Obviously. Answering him would be futile. I’d been caught.
A muscled arm banded around my middle, clamping my arms to my sides. I looked down to find a broad, tattoo- and ring-encrusted hand wrapping around my arm.
Henrik.
“If it isn’t Brynhild Jakobsen, the thief that roams the northern coastlines.”
“How do you know my last name?”
“I asked around.” His arm tightened, muscles straining around my abdomen, the blade still tickling the soft flesh beneath my chin. “You have quite the reputation in certain alehouses.”
“Then perhaps you’ve heard of my skills with weapons too?”
“Why do you think I’m holding your arms down?”
Smart man.
“What are you doing on my ship, little thief?”
“Sightseeing.”
He scoffed. “I’ll believe that when I’m dead.”
“That could be arranged.”
“Cheeky.”
I peered over my shoulder, bringing our faces a breath apart. “Go on, you love it.”
His nose scrunched, eyes glittering. “I do.”
Ugh. What an ass. Both of us were really, but I would never admit that out loud. “You can let me go now.”
“And watch you jump into those waves without an explanation? I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice dropping. “Besides, I want to make sure you’re not taking anything that doesn’t belong to you.”
An involuntary shudder ran through me—my natural instincts telling me to fight and run. Unfortunately, the motion made my body rub against him, and he chuckled again at the effect he’d had on me.
“How about a compromise?”
Oh, I wasn’t going to like this. “I’m listening.”
He spun me around in his hold, bringing us chest to chest. I stared up into those never-ending blue eyes as they shimmered with a cunning plan I was definitely not going to like. But, considering my current situation…
“I will refrain from killing you,” he started, “if you agree to empty your pockets and give me any treasures that may linger there.”
Well, that was easy. The only treasures I currently had were hung around my neck and tied to my hip. The few gold coins were replaceable via the cache I had at home. I stifled a grin. He really should have chosen his words with more care.
With a nod, I said, “I agree to empty my pockets and give you anything there so you may spare my life… and let me leave at the next port.”
He tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowing yet still lined with that charming look that he wore with far too much bravado for my liking. No, I loathed that look. Especially when it was aimed at me, and my body did that tingly thing.
“I’m not quite sure when we are making our next port, little thief.”
“Liar.”
He smirked. “How about you accept my initial terms?”
Ancestors, this man was difficult.
“Bryn…”
“Fine!”
He released me in an instant and took a step back, finally giving me more space to think and breathe and cool down.
“Empty your pockets.” He cocked his head. “Please.”
“Since when did you get manners?”
“I’ve always been polite to pretty ladies.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he had.
“Sverre!” he yelled.
Oh no. I didn’t like him.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and brought out the few pieces of gold that remained as the first mate lumbered up the stairs and glared at me like I was a piece of shit that had ruined his day.
Pulling out the last coins and letting them clatter to the deck, I inverted the pocket fabric to show them there was nothing else. “That’s all I have, and I didn’t steal them from you.”
Though I really wanted to know how much gold they had stashed down below.
“And any other pockets,” Henrik said and crossed his arms.
“That’s all the pockets I have.”
He quirked a single eyebrow. “Really?”
“I can search her, Captain,” Sverre said.
“There will be no need,” he replied with a raised palm.
“No, there won’t,” I added and set my hands on my hips. “Especially considering our agreement was to search my pockets only.”
That smirk dropped.
Sverre grumbled.
“You need to be more careful with your words, Captain.” I grinned. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my leave.” Jumping into the ocean still seemed like the safest option, even if I wasn’t exactly sure where we were. I moved to step around them and an arm shot out, blocking my path.
“No, you will be staying with me.” Henrik loomed over me like an annoyed, yet handsome, storm cloud. “I want you where I can see you.”
Well, if he wasn’t going to kill me and I could sleep somewhere that wasn’t a broom closest…
“Fine.” I pushed his arm aside and ambled down the steps to the main deck, aiming toward his quarters at the rear. “You should know I sleep with six daggers.”
“I expect nothing less.” He strode after me. “But you won’t be going in there without disarming.”
I spun on the spot, and he swayed to a halt, barely stopping before barreling into me.
“There will be no disarming.”
“My ship. My rules.”
“I should have picked a different ship.”
He smiled, that suave countenance back in full force. “And miss seeing my pretty face?”
He was definitely an ass. A handsome one that made my toes curl and my heart do a funny fluttering thing. But still an ass.
“Come on, Bryn. I’ll let you keep those six you sleep with, but put all the others over here.” He moved to the stairwell I’d been hidden beneath earlier and retrieved a small wooden box that looked akin to a treasure chest but was sadly empty.
“Go on. Disarm.”
“Could we make another agreement?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
I set to it and removed anything that could be construed as a weapon while keeping the necklace and compass as hidden as possible.
First were poison daggers courtesy of a Forest Fae acquaintance of mine. The Forest Fae had a knack for poisons. One I’d taken advantage of and paid significant sums for over the years.
A stone dagger I’d stolen off a Fjell Fae at an alehouse in Grim.
Two throwing stars I’d bartered for because they were pretty and from a land far, far away.
Finally, I reached into the leather straps slung across my back and retrieved a pouch filled with gunpowder. One could never be sure when the need might arise. I added it to the small stack inside the box with a melancholy sigh.
I felt naked.
Vulnerable and naked.
“Are you done?” Henrik asked, his eyes blinking back surprise.
“That should be everything.”
“Except the six. Where are they hidden away?”
I pointed to my boots.
Three blades were fastened in sheaths that had been molded to the calves.
“Of course. Well, after you.” Henrik opened the door to his quarters and let me in.