10. Bryn
Bryn
Before I could let the shock sink in, Henrik cupped his hand over it. Faint tendrils of light seeped through the cracks between his fingers, but it was a damn sight better than it had been.
My chest rose and fell, his hand moving with it.
Ancestors, he was so warm, and that hand was broad and reassuring. Even if this necklace was about to get us killed.
I could barely make out the shape of his lips as he mouthed, “We will discuss this later.”
I’d rather not.
The men in the office made some errant remarks about the room appearing undisturbed then trudged out, locking the door behind them, and my shoulders sank in relief. That had been far too close.
Henrik slowly lifted his hand from where it rested, releasing the glow. The blue light lit up our faces and the space around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see scrolls and huge tomes, but my focus couldn’t leave the man in front of me.
His eyes were fixed on the spot where the pendant rested against my chest.
“Henrik,” I whispered.
He didn’t budge. His hands hung at his sides as he continued to stare.
“Henrik? I think you found them.” I motioned to the space around us.
He shook his head and muttered, “Later.” Then he surveyed the tiny closet.
Floor to ceiling, the space was covered in thin wooden shelves laden with maps, scrolls, and massive books that appeared heavy enough to flatten a small animal. And there, on the back wall, in a gilded frame, sat a map of the northern coastline with images of whales dotted across it.
“It’s here,” Henrik said, his tone filled with a sickening awe.
He grabbed one of the blades at his hip and carved the parchment from its frame, careful to keep close to the edges. Once removed, he gently rolled it and tucked it beneath his shirt and jacket.
“See, you didn’t even need me,” I said as the light of my necklace faded and died out.
Henrik turned back to me. “We did. That plan was all you, and I saw how quick you were searching that desk. I’d have never thought to check the decorations on the side compartments.”
Well… I didn’t know what to say. Instead I shrugged and brushed aside the compliment before realizing he couldn’t see me anyway. Not with the pendant light disappearing.
Henrik moved in the dark, and body heat pressed against my front.
“Ready to get of here?” he asked.
“Yes.” Both out of this tiny room and the castle of a house. I slipped away from him and pressed my hands against the doorway, searching for the latch… Ah ha. Pressing down and pulling, I got us out of the small space before I did something foolish.
“Any ideas for an exit that doesn’t take us back through ancient sewers?” He examined the office, clearly wanting to deviate from our original plan.
I followed his line of sight, catching on the ropes that tied back the six curtain panels in the room. A wild idea ran through my mind, but I’d honestly done far crazier things to escape from a tight spot. “You recall the ramparts a few floors below?”
His lips quivered, flirting with a wry smile. “You want to add climbing to tonight’s activities?”
“More like descending.”
He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as if thinking of something else entirely but nodded.
“Good,” I said. “Make yourself useful and rip those off the walls for me.”
He did as he was told and started unfastening the ropes while I unlatched the thin paned window and peered down.
My stomach flipped twice. That was a lot farther than I was anticipating, but still doable.
A rampart lined the side of the building a few stories below and leveled out with the ground at one end.
An easy escape route considering this place wasn’t defended by soldiers and it didn’t look like there were any other fae or humans roaming around in the dark.
“Tying them off,” he said and made quick work of it. Using either magic or sailor skills, I wasn’t sure. But those knots were firm and not budging.
Meanwhile, I searched the room for anything else that we might be able to use and tried my best not to roll my eyes when I found only one more item. “Take off your belt please.”
Henrik gave me a grin that could melt glaciers. “And I got a please.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, I definitely will.”
I huffed. “Bastard.”
He snickered and, with slow movements, unfastened the metal buckle and pulled off his belt. “Where do you want me?”
The innuendo and tension filled the room like a storm about to break.
“Help me fasten these.”
We set to work, tying all the ropes together and attaching them to the table braced against the wall, before I sat on the sill and leaned out the window once more. A hand settled on my thigh and I peered back inside.
Henrik was outlined by the faint glow of moonlight, concern etched across his forehead. “Careful.”
I swallowed hard. Was that worry for my well-being? “Would you be sad if I fell, Captain?”
His features didn’t shift, but his tone remained blank. “Devastated, little thief.”
I didn’t believe him for a second.
“Are you ready?” He raised the rope. “You go first?”
I nodded and wrapped the rope around my midsection.
A loud clattering sounded from the hallway as if someone had dropped a tray, and our eyes went wide.
“Move now,” we both mouthed at each other.
I didn’t waste another second. With my back to the moon, I was out the window and steadily rappelling down the stony facade, aiming for the rampart below.
The cold wind of the North Atlantic buffeted against my body while the rope burned against my fingers as I pressed my feet to the wall and slowly descended.
Don’t look down.
Don’t look down.
Don’t look down.
With steady breaths, I kept my gaze locked on the wall and ignored my screaming muscles. Those few days hiding in the closet really hadn’t been good for my body. I needed to move more, get some use out of them, preferably not on a wall like this again.
My right foot bumped against the rampart, and I let out a breath before righting myself.
I was down without getting killed or caught. Glancing up at the window, I found Henrik’s ass already out. He sailed down the rope, feet moving as fast as his hands. It was like he barely touched the rope before he landed beside me.
His glittering gaze found mine. “Enjoy the view?” he asked.
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the rampart and started heading toward the ground and nearby forest.
“Oh,” he chuckled, “you definitely enjoyed the view.”
He was ridiculous.
Accurate, but ridiculous.
We moved quickly off the stone siding and strode across the grassy soil before entering the woods where the trail led back to the tunnel we’d used earlier.
In a few broad strides, Henrik walked ahead of me, sword at the ready in case anyone jumped out of the darkened passage ahead.
Pounding footsteps sounded behind us. “You there!”
Shite.
It was the groundskeeper, boots thumping against the ground, jacket flailing around him, a pistol rising toward us. That wasn’t good.
I spun, called on my magic, and sought out the water within the groundskeeper.
A tug pulled at my sternum—my magic had hooked.
I twisted my fingers and pulled them toward myself until my hand fisted at my chest. The man’s eyes widened and he dropped his firearm, his hands reaching for his throat, clawing. It wouldn’t help him at all.
This was my least favorite magic in my arsenal, but I’d rather he die than me.
Water spurted from his lips and gurgling noises filled the dewy air.
He dropped to his knees, then onto his face.
Water still spewed from him. It wouldn’t be long now.
His chest would be filled with fluid, putting pressure on his lungs, ribs, and heart.
The latter would—oh, there he goes—give out from strain.
I turned away from the dead man, as if that could make him disappear or my actions change, and stumbled right into Henrik. He pulled on my arm and motioned for us to keep running.
Definitely wouldn’t be saying no to that. It was well past time for us to leave.
“Here I was thinking I was the most brutal of the two of us,” Henrik said as we barreled back down the tunnel.
“A woman’s got to do what she needs to.”
“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”
“No, I count my gold before bed and relish in the noise it makes.”
He scoffed and careened out of the tunnel and onto the dock where the two crewmen waited in the rowboat.
“Thanks for waiting, lads.”
He jumped in and offered me his hand. I took it, but for some annoying reason my fingers trembled within the warm confines of his hold.
“You well, little thief?”
I retracted my hand and took my spot on the bench again. “Fine.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up to kill us.”
“Agreed,” Henrik replied. “Full speed, lads.”
Obeying his order, the crew angled their oars above the water then pressed their hands to the tiny vessel, propelling us away from the dock and the grisly whaling ship that called it home.
We’d done it.
We’d gotten in and out unscathed—if you excluded the rope burns on my fingers and palms. Henrik caught me studying them and picked up my right hand. Turning it over, he brushed his thumb across the reddened skin.
“I’m fine,” I muttered and tried to take back my hand.
His grip tightened. “Mm-hmm.”
The next moment he swirled his fingers, and a tendril of water appeared.
He coaxed it forward and it danced across my burning skin.
Blessed ancestors, that stung but felt good.
The cool water was like ice sliding over embers, smoking and steaming.
I relaxed against Henrik’s side and he continued holding my hand.
“You were saying,” he whispered.
“Totally fine.”
He huffed a short laugh as if he could tell how much I liked the affectionate touch. Which was probably too much, but it was nice to feel cared for. Even if it was merely holding hands.
Not long after I’d taken back my tended hand, we reached the side of the Valur and the crew hoisted us up.
Once on board, it was like the moment between us on the rowboat hadn’t happened.
That softness that lurked beneath Henrik’s flirty and authoritative surface vanished and was replaced by the Captain.
“Starboard guns!” Henrik yelled.
What? Were we under attack? There was nothing in our plans about guns.
Shouts of the same words filled the air.
“What do you mean guns?” I asked.
Henrik didn’t listen. Or if he did hear me, he made no motion to indicate so. His scowling attention was fixed on the deck.
Sverre signaled something from near the mast.
“FIRE!” Henrik yelled.
“Fire all!”
“Fire the cannons!”
Colossal booms and explosions rocked the ship, and cannonballs flew across the cove.
They smashed into the cliffside, breaking off large chunks of rock that cascaded into the ocean below.
Another crumbling roar filled the air, this time from ashore.
It sounded like thunder and lightning morphing into one—like an iceberg cracking.
More rocks splintered off the cliff, and I gasped as the house we’d just been in fell into the sea.