Chapter 4
BUTTER AND HONEY TOAST
RUNE
Morning sunlight is my favourite. I’ve always enjoyed the early tangerine, and salmon-pink rays that appear above the horizon just as the dawn breaks, sending a kaleidoscope of golden tones across the sea.
Especially when the tips of the rippling waves catch the sun, turning the ocean into a glittering playground where light dances with the water.
This morning is particularly beautiful. I watch the ocean begin to wake through the round glass window in my quarters. I barely slept all night. Hard to do when your enemy is chained below you in the hold of the ship.
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair, trying to decide what I'm going to do with Odelia. My crew will be expecting me to take her to Goldmere. We’re a week away at least, so I have time, but I still don’t have answers.
Before I discard her into the grasp of the law, I need more information, and she is the only one who can give it to me.
But—like most who are brought aboard The Gilded Hart—she’s being difficult.
A steaming cup of hot coffee rests on my nightstand.
Otto brought it to me earlier. That kid always seems to know what folk need at just the right time.
I sip the bitter liquid, savouring the taste as it coats the back of my throat, grateful how it warms my insides just right.
Mornings are still cold here in the early spring.
After I finish, I grab my jacket, threading my arms through the dark linen.
I don’t bother fastening the gold buttons down the front.
Too many layers make me feel constricted.
The worn, brass doorknob is cold under my hand as I tug the door to my quarters.
I stoop under the wooden frame, closing it behind me with a solid click.
My boots thud against the main deck. The crew is already going about their duties. We have a system, and so far I’ve had no problems with it. Some swab, cleaning the wooden planks to prevent rot and slipping, while others climb to adjust sails and tighten ropes.
We’re stalled in open water, but that doesn’t mean the routine changes.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” Tavi falls into step beside me, her long strides equalling mine. She’s dressed for battle—she always is—in her tight black leathers, matching twin blades carved from steel strapped one on each thigh.
Her long, white hair is pulled back into twists and braids, hanging down the centre of her spine. Ears, pointier than mine, are adorned with a collection of silver hoops, and small bone shards. She likes to wear tiny trophies of her kills on her body, in some form or another.
I twist my head, catching the real question in her emerald eyes. What am I going to do with her . . . the pirate scum.
Odelia’s fiery eyes flash in my mind. Should I admit I have no idea?
That for once in my twenty-eight years, I don’t know what path to take?
There’s no part of me that should hesitate to take her to the nearest port, but I need answers.
Something about the fear in her eyes when I mentioned Stonegallows bothers me, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I hate plotting a course when I feel off centre.
Would Tavi think I was unfit to be captain because I was stalling? Was that what I was doing?
Seagulls screech above us, while gentle sea breezes tumble over the ship's railing. I stop at the top of the stairs leading down into the hold. Tavi is still expecting an answer.
“I’m going to do what I do with all the pirates we catch.” I grin “I’m going to get information, and then I’ll dump her ass in prison.”
Tavi’s lips form a thin line, like she doesn’t believe me. I know what she prefers I do, but she doesn’t get the final say. I do. With a small nod, she spins on her heel and heads for the ratlines on the mast. It’s her turn to take up residence in the crow’s nest.
I mentally prepare myself for the prisoner below. Hopefully a night’s sleep, and the food Bear took her last night has changed her attitude. Though I could be wishing on those broken stars again.
There’s no point in masking my arrival. I need Odelia awake to answer questions, so I make no effort to soften my steps on the wooden stairs, the sound carrying into the dark hold.
My eyes adjust as I near the brig, expecting to see the brown-eyed woman scowling at me from the corner. Instead, she’s still asleep.
Obviously, I hadn’t been loud enough.
“Odelia.”
She remains still.
I clear my throat, speaking louder. “Odelia, wake up.”
Not even her finger twitches.
Worry pools in my stomach. Unease making itself known via heat travelling through my body. Something isn’t right.
In the dim light, I can see that she’s ripped the sleeves off her blouse, using some of the cloth to tie her dark, salt-crusted hair up.
I know for certain that Otto brought her water.
He didn’t really give me a say in the matter.
Anyone aboard this ship is part of the crew—his words . . . not mine.
Bear, also known as Otto—if he’s given me those blasted quail eggs when he knows I loathe them—takes care of the cooking and any healing remedies we might need. He’s young, but one of the most valuable members on this ship.
I let my eyes roam over her limp body. Perhaps she’s unconscious? Or has she gone and offed herself with a secret poison, or found the nearest sharp object to jab in her throat? It’s not like Tavi to miss things, yet it is possible she missed a tiny glass vial hidden somewhere . . . intimate.
My hand finds the hilt of my sword. Silently I unsheathe it, threading it through the bars of the iron cage. “Hey . . . bilge rat.” I mutter, poking the edge of her hip.
Still she remains stiff. Heat floods my body, my heart picking up pace as panic sets in.
She’s dead.
I shove my blade back into its sheath, making my way to the brig door.
Smooth shell brushes against my fingertips as I search for the key to the cell in my trouser pocket—her necklace is still in there.
The key doesn’t sit right inside the lock, which is strange, because it was fine yesterday.
Gritting my teeth, I jimmy the mechanism and seconds later it gives way.
Metal hinges groan as the door springs open.
My knee cracks as I crouch down beside her still body.
I can’t justify the disappointment in my chest—Ivor has a fierce reputation, hell, even his daughter known by name across the Adamaris Sea does.
I’d expected anyone on their crew to fight tooth and nail until the very end, but Odelia’s chest doesn’t rise or fall in the soft exhale of breath.
Cautious, I stretch out my hand to press fingers to the side of her throat, checking for a pulse.
A tremor. So faint I probably imagine it. Then chaos.
Minor pain shoots through my forearm as it’s slammed to the side, altering my balance. Then, with the gracefulness of a deer darting through the forest, desperate to flee its hunter, Odelia leaps to her feet, bounding off the ground to wrap her legs around my neck.
Normally, I don’t mind having a woman like this—her warmth pressed close, breath stolen in all the right ways. But this time? This time’s a little different. This time, the woman is actually trying to kill me.
I glance up in time to see her snake an arm out, wielding a slither of a blade—a hair pin. So that’s what Tavi missed. She’s losing her touch.
Despite the constriction around my throat, I throw my arm up, blocking the thin metal spike from piercing my eye.
With the fluidness of years of training in my father’s army, I grip Odelia’s warm thighs, and throw my body sideways.
We both land on the floor in a tangle of limbs and winded lungs.
Her dark eyes are ablaze like wildfire ripping through a dry, desolate field of wheat.
Together, we roll across the width of the brig towards the door.
Not a good idea. The cell is still wide open, and she still has a blade in her hand.
She lands on me with a snarl, knife raised.
I catch her wrist, clench my teeth, and buck hard.
We roll again, a blur of elbows and breathless curses.
I jam my knee between us, twist, and flip her.
A heartbeat later, I have her straddled—knife arm pinned, her glare burning holes in my skin.
There’s no time for thinking, only acting. I slam the edge of my palm onto the wrist that clutches the hairpin. With a strangled cry of pain, Odelia releases the blade, and with a flick of my wrist, I send it across the floor out of reach. It clatters against the bars on the other side of the brig.
My left brow rises in triumph, but it’s not for long.
Slender, powerful legs begin to kick and squirm.
She’s still trying to get away. With my free hand, I reach for the blade in the top of my boot and yank it loose.
Its edge kisses the delicate skin of her throat, drawing a bead of crimson to the surface.
“Did you really think you could outsmart me?”
Odelia swallows, her throat bobbing against the edge of the blade. “You men are all the same. You think you have the upper hand all because you were born with a cock.”
I grin. “It definitely comes in handy.”
A slow smile spreads across her mouth. I can’t help but watch her lips slightly part. “Can’t argue with you there.”
The amusement dancing in her voice is the only warning I get before excruciating pain explodes between my legs, as Odelia’s knee connects with my groin.
It isn’t a direct hit to my cock, but it is close.
The ache makes me want to curl inwards as I gasp for air through clenched teeth.
She uses the distraction to shove me off, twisting from under me as she scrambles for the iron door.
She’s got fight, I’ll give her that.