29 LONNIE
ABOARD THE FORESIGHT
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.
Ambrose returned to the cabin within mere minutes of my closing the door.
I sat on the bed we’d silently shared for the last few nights, and blinked at him across the room. Suddenly, the room felt too small, and I felt heat rise inexplicably in my face.
“Did you kill that thing?”
I asked briskly. The boat was no longer rocking, but still, I felt the need to be sure the monster was well and truly gone.
“Yes,”
he said, as he closed the door behind him, locking out the whistling of the sea breeze.
I let out a sigh of relief, even as the rebel king leaned against the door, looking as close to exhaustion as I’d ever seen one of the Fae. His face and clothing were smattered with blood, and the side of his hair that was not shaved up to the scalp had fallen loose from its braid. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I immediately turned away.
“That was quicker than I’d expected.”
“Did you expect me to return at all?”
he asked, pushing off the door. “Or were you hoping the Charybdis would take care of all your problems for you.”
I scowled. That was a little too close to what I’d been thinking for my comfort, and I still didn’t have a good answer for him. “Let us say, I’m glad I don’t need to sail this ship on my own. I don’t even know where we’re going.”
He laughed quietly under his breath, and stalked across the room to the trunk at the foot of the bed. Throwing it open, he pulled out a clean shirt, and again raised his eyes to meet mine from beneath his lashes. “Is that your way of asking where I’m taking you?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t suppose you’d answer, anyway. We’re not eating.”
He smirked, then straightened back to standing. “I’ll tell you, but only if you answer a question for me.”
I blinked. The way his questions had gone so far—my favorite color, my favorite pastime, and other such nonsense—I’d be a fool not to agree. “Fine.”
His grin took on a wicked gleam. “We’re on our way to Underneath.”
“Why?”
I demanded.
He shook his head, still grinning. “I said I would tell you where, not why.”
I bit back a growl of frustration, and looked down. With my eyes on the bed, I almost didn’t see him reaching behind him for the neck of his blood stained shirt, he pulled it off with one swift motion. I blinked in surprise.
“Are you ready for my question?” he asked.
I shook my head to clear it. “Fine.”
I needed to get a grip on myself. I shouldn’t have noticed or cared what his body looked like, but it was hard not to stare at all the hard muscles, covered almost completely in black, swirling tattoos. They started at his neck, and extended all the way down, disappearing past his belt.
“What are you thinking about?”
he asked. “At this very moment.”
I flushed scarlet, and quickly looked away. I was an idiot, and that was a cruel question, but only because I should not be wondering how much lower those tattoos ran. I should not be thinking of anything, except why we were bound for Underneath.
I refused to answer honestly. There had to be some technical truth I could give him, that would not burn my throat and also wouldn’t reveal how absurd my thoughts had turned.
“I was thinking about how very stupid I am,” I said.
To my surprise, he grinned. “An answer worthy of a Fae queen.”
I flushed deeper, and turned away.
“Wait, he said, finally pulling his shirt over his head. “I wanted to tell you something earlier, but did not get the chance.”
For some unknown reason, my heartbeat sped up, and I was nervous as I replied: “What was that?”
“I’ve thought of something for you to do.”
“For me to do?”
I raised an eyebrow in confusion.
He sat up straighter, focusing on me again, as if coming to a more concrete decision. “You said you have no pastimes.”
Oh. A beat too late, I recalled the request I’d made of him. I needed something to occupy my time. “Right. What is it? It’s not as if I’m about to take up painting while in captivity.”
He stood, seemingly not listening to me, and walked around the side of the table until we were only a few feet away from one another. “You like winning, as do I, and you complain you have no way of defending yourself, which I can also understand.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know what you’re angling for, but I cannot imagine that you have ever understood being unable to defend yourself.”
“I don’t have any offensive magic,”
he said, as if it were obvious.
“Perhaps, but you seem perfectly well acquainted with those swords.”
Ambrose grinned at me. “Exactly. I’m going to teach you to use them.”
There was not a single protest I could’ve made that seemed to make any difference to Ambrose. Therefore, I found myself out on the deck that afternoon, preparing for my first lesson.
In truth, I should be jumping for joy at this offer. Ambrose had been right in his assessment of me: I’d complained bitterly and often about being outmatched, and unable to do much more than flee in a fight. Except, I remembered all too well Bael’s early attempts at teaching me to use a blade, and how poorly they’d gone. I was simply uncoordinated, and that was all there was to it.
The afternoon sun was shining brightly, bringing some much-needed warmth after days of chilly weather. As I stood on the upper deck of the ship, I could still feel a slight chill in the air but it was nothing compared to the freezing temperatures of previous days. Ambrose and I stood facing each other, a sense of tension between us as I waited for him to speak. The crew had given us a wide berth, but I saw them casting curious looks at us as Ambrose presented me with a sword.
I eyed the blade skeptically before taking it, testing its weight in my palm. It wasn’t small exactly, but neither was it as heavy or bulky as the enormous two-handed blades he favored. “Where did you get this?”
“It’s Lin’s,”
he replied easily. “So make sure not to lose it or she’ll have my head.”
I tilted my head questioningly, trying to think of who he could possibly be talking about. I’d never seen him interact with anyone besides the imposing guard, Riven. Who would have such a close connection to the rebel leader that they could borrow his possessions or even dare to intimidate him? “Who is Lin?”
In answer, he jerked his head toward the bow of the ship, where the short, dark haired woman from the other day was standing at the wheel. “My first mate, I suppose one would call it. Although, as she does far more in the way of navigating than I do, she’s really the captain in all but name.”
He grinned. “Now, stop changing the subject, you’re here to learn.”
I grimaced. “I should warn you, I’m awful at combat.”
His brow wrinkled. “I don’t believe that.”
I laughed. “Then you haven’t been watching me very carefully.”
He gave me an odd look, and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “On the contrary, love. There’s hardly been a moment since you were eighteen that I’ve been able to look away.”
A sudden warmth spread across my cheeks. “Why? How would you have even known of me for that long?”
He grinned. “A question for another time, love. Let me see you wield the sword.”
My cheeks still warm, and feeling incredibly foolish, I whipped the blade through the air a few times. He grimaced, and I stopped, growing defensive. “I told you, this is entirely pointless.”
“It’s not,”
he said quickly. “For starters, try not to flop your wrist so much, you’ll break it the moment anyone combats you with any measure of force, and keep your sword as close to the center of your body as possible,”
he held out his hand to demonstrate.
With a hesitant grip, I grasped the weight of the sword in my hand, following his instructions to swing it through the air. The blade whistled, flowing in a wide arc. I turned my gaze toward Ambrose, eagerly awaiting his praise for my efforts. However, his face remained unreadable.
“You’re too stiff,” he said.
“Well, I did sleep on the floor for the better part of a week,”
I snapped, growing seriously annoyed.
Without commenting, he walked around to stand behind me and gently took hold of my sword arm. “Bend your elbow,”
he directed. “Don’t stab, like you’re using a fire poker. Slash, like this…”
His rough, calloused grip shifted my arm, and guided my movements in fluid motions.
“Fine,”
I breathed, and repeated the motion.
“That’s better.”
he nodded and stepped closer. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers pressing firmly into my skin as he shifted my stance. “You need to loosen up. Allow your body to move, like you’re dancing.”
A spark of desire shot through me, beginning where his hands burned into my sides, and flooding my entire body. I shivered involuntarily, feeling his words on the back of my neck. Oh gods.
I took a large step forward, breaking our contact. “I’ve got it.”
A tense and drawn-out silence hung in the air before he finally emerged from behind me and retreated to his previous position, keeping a safe distance between us. Pressing his lips together in a flat line, he gestured for me to try again. And again. And again.
The sun had moved from overhead to low in the west before he declared that I was even holding the sword correctly.
I ran my sleeve across my forehead, wiping away the sweat dripping down my face. My body ached and I let out an exhausted sigh, shifting my weight to ease the tension in my stiff muscles. “I can’t keep doing this.”
Ambrose, who looked just the same as he had this morning having not exerted himself at all, raised his eyebrow at me. “But we haven’t even gotten to spar yet.”
I shook my head, and my skull pounded. “And we never will if you force me to continue because I’ll drop dead right here and now.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really mean that, or has your ability to lie returned at last?”
I fixed him with a withering stare, and turned to stomp back toward the cabin. “What do you think?”