9. Bryn
Bryn
Two nights later, after changing course to avoid a storm and planning our heist during the journey, we’d veered north again, backtracking and taking me farther away from my goal and home.
But if this was what I had to do to get there…
Well, so be it. Perhaps I’d find a sparkly souvenir of high value along the way too.
The only problem was going to be working alongside others. I didn’t do it. Hadn’t in a long time and for good reason. The last instance had left me scarred. I shivered at the memory as I leaned along the railing and stared out across the calm, starry waters.
“Hold fast!”
The order thrummed through the ship.
But why should I hold on tightly? The sails had been withdrawn hours ago.
The boat lurched and a wave of energy washed over the ship and me, brushing stray tendrils of my hair across my cheeks.
Henrik stepped up beside me, his hand firmly planted against the railing, as an aura of authority settled around him.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“We’re moving the ship.”
I blinked once, stared at him, then the water, then back to him.
“Are you and your crew powering the boat?”
“Ship. And yes.”
Dear ancestors, he was powerful. They all were.
I peered around behind me and found the blue-clad crew touching different parts of the ship, as if imbuing it with their magic. From the mast to the helm, to the other railing and the bow. Every part of the ship was covered.
It gently propelled itself forward and turned toward the coast. The falcon on the bow aimed its talons at the shoreline, readying to catch its prey.
“Won’t be long now.” Henrik gazed toward the not-so-distant land. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes.” I patted my waist. “Thank you for giving me back my things.”
He smiled. “As long as you leave them outside my cabin and don’t use them against my crew, you’re welcome to have them back.”
“You’re so generous,” I said half sarcastically.
His tattooed fingers slid closer to mine, the littlest one brushing the side of my hand. He leaned down and brought his lips to my ear, his breath skittering across my neck and eliciting goose bumps. “You of all people know how generous I can be.”
I curled my hands into fists. He was right. Damn him. I did know, exactly, how generous he could be. The bastard had made me orgasm more times than any other man had last year.
Clearing my throat as he rose back to his full height, I said, “How long until we reach our destination?”
“Less than an hour.” He stepped back. “Be ready to go ashore when I come back, Bryn, and don’t make any poor decisions when we do.”
“Like what?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him.
“Like running away from me again.”
My lungs stopped working. I hadn’t… No, I had run away from him last year. Slipped out in the early waking hours without any plans of staying. Even when the thought of staying wrapped up in him had crossed my mind.
“Can you promise me that?” he added.
I couldn’t think straight, but somehow my head nodded, and he was satisfied with that answer enough to move back to the helm and take up the wheel.
Oh, ancestors, what was happening to me? These tingly feelings shouldn’t be fluttering around inside me. I shouldn’t be agreeing to work with others. I shouldn’t be sleeping in the same room as a man I’d once bedded and stolen from.
This wasn’t going to end well. I could feel it in my bones.
Henrik was right. It wasn’t long until all the lights on the ship were doused, both those lit with oil and those powered by Henrik’s royal powers.
The boat crept closer to shore, where, perched precariously atop a bluff, was a house that looked like a castle I’d seen in Scotland once upon a heist. The only thing that made it more Nordic was the amount of timber used in some of the spires—it was as if they’d run out of rock the higher they built from the crag and decided to fill in the rest with lumber.
Only a few windows glowed with the dimness offered by candlelight, and a smattering of torches lined a walkway down a nearby hill that led straight to the docks. There, a jetty pierced the ocean’s flank, and a lone ship was moored against it.
Following the plan, Henrik, myself, and two sailors hopped into a small rowboat and were lowered to the water by the crew. It would only be us going ashore, with Henrik and I doing the actual theft.
Once we were bobbing among the waves, the two crewmen pretended to row while Henrik pressed his power into the tiny boat, propelling us forward.
They must’ve been using the oars as a decoy in case any humans spotted us.
Then again, the man we were to rob, Foyn Knudson, was a human.
At least that’s what Henrik had claimed last night.
And, in my experience, it was best to keep up appearances in case things took a turn.
I glanced out of the corners of my eyes at the captain.
Hopefully I could trust him. So far he hadn’t done anything to warrant any fear, except flirt excessively and drown that one thief.
But there was an undercurrent of danger lurking beneath the surface with him.
It lingered in the tension of his muscles, the way he tilted his head to one side when assessing something, and the piercing looks he threw around.
It was as if someone moved the wrong way or said the wrong thing, he’d latch on to them like a rip current and drag them under.
Being stuck in such close proximity to him was brutal too.
Sat this near, it was as if every part of him wanted to invade my personal space and revel in it.
He smelled like sea salt and pine—a fresh and calm scent that was so opposed to the tumultuous violence that sat on his shoulders.
Perhaps that’s how he lured in his prey?
His thigh brushed against mine, sending a trill of warmth through me. It reminded me of how he had felt against me last year. All that muscle and heat, the expanse of the chiseled chest, those broad hands gliding across my abdomen and squeezing my—
No. Focus, Bryn. It was easier said than done, always had been, but I forced myself to look to the approaching dock. No beings walked along it, and there was only a single light flickering at the very end.
Henrik overturned his hand and a small ball of water took shape in his palm. The next second it whisked across the watery expanse and crashed against the lantern on the dock, dousing the flame within.
Smart man.
As we drew closer, a smell that reminded me of iron shackles tainted the ocean breeze. Was that blood?
We clambered ashore and scurried along the dock, where I got a closer view of Foyn’s moored vessel under the moonlight.
It resembled any other boat that sailed these northern waters, covered in rigging and ropes, but there were two stark differences.
One darkly stained side was missing any railing, and fastened to the bow was a contraption that looked like a gun had been rigged to the base of a catapult.
“What is that?” I whispered.
Henrik narrowed his eyes at the ship and growled. “Whaling ship with a bomb lance.”
“A bomb what?”
He grabbed me by the arm and tugged me behind a stack of crates. “A bomb lance. They use them when hunting whales. The lance pierces the whale’s skin and sets off the bomb, killing the whale. Or, at least, trying to. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.”
I cupped my hand over my mouth as my stomach churned. How could anyone do such a thing? “Why?”
“For some human cultures whale hunting is a tradition, for others it is for profit. You must have seen the whales or hunters while on your adventures up and down the coastline?”
Shaking my head, I stared over his shoulder at the gruesome vessel. “I’ve seen some of the sailors in the alehouses and seen the meat for sale at markets, but never knew… Oh, ancestors, that’s horrible.”
He nodded. “Agreed.”
Our eyes met and I found anger boiling beneath the surface there. “That’s what you meant by protecting creatures. Protecting the whales.”
He nodded again.
A fire ignited within me. “Is this a whaler we’re stealing maps from?”
“Yes. Foyn Knudson is one of the biggest traders and isn’t killing them for traditional reasons.”
One glance at the large vessel and the larger house on the cliff backed up that claim. This monster was making a lot of money off the killing and selling of these beautiful animals.
“Let’s go steal from the bastard.”
A sly grin appeared in the darkness as he motioned to a path. “After you.”
As we wound along the trail, I pulled on the magic that hummed in my sternum and launched orbs of water at the few torches that lined the way. It was better to douse us in darkness, but hopefully the lights going out wouldn’t set off any suspicions up at the big house.
The gravelly trail turned to thick slabs of stone as we wound close to and then inside the cliffs.
“Are you afraid of the dark, little thief?”
“Not with the number of daggers on my person.”
“Violent thing.”
I was. Especially when cornered, but this wasn’t one of those moments.
Quite the opposite. Right now I was filled with both adrenaline and comfort.
The former because I was doing what I loved most: stealing.
The latter because of who I was with. Not that I’d ever admit it, but having Henrik here watching my back gave me a sense of protection and peace that I’d never experienced on my jobs before.
I shook off the thought as the darkness of the tunnel swallowed us whole.
“Are you sure?” His breath skittered across the shell of my ear, and I damn well shuddered. “Scary things lurk in the dark, Bryn.”
“Use your royal light magic before I stub my toe in your crotch.”
“Say please.”
Ugh. “Please.”
He chuckled, and the sound had a flush running through my body.
A moment later, a tiny effervescent orb floated above our heads and matched our forward movements.
The tunnel walls were constructed of jagged and rough-hewn stone, axe scars lining the ceiling.
“A few hundred meters up, correct?”
“Correct. Then in through the west drainpipes.”