Chapter 15 #2
The wind is stronger today, but we’re anchored so the sails are pulled up tight.
The cloth creaks against the waxed rope that binds it.
I’m not sure what to say. Half of me expected everything to go back to how it was before Rune was injured.
But Tavi’s glares haven’t been half as potent, and now Elio is striking up casual conversation, like they think there’s a wayward chance of Viper redemption just because I pulled a couple barbs out of their captain and haven’t killed any of them yet.
The wind sweeps the trees in the distance as I speak, filling the air with a strange leafy hiss. “My captain used to say, ‘Waiting till you’re ready is like waiting to die.’”
The man next to me snorts, his head dipping over his arms like he’s trying to hide it. “My mother used to say something similar, though my father would always say that ‘Fortune only comes for those patient enough to bed her.’”
It’s my turn to snort, and I feel the eyes nearby turn our way. “That’s remarkably lewd for such sage wisdom.”
His grin grows. “Just lewd enough that I’ve never forgotten it. Perhaps there’s truth in both.”
I almost ask about him and Tavi—if her subtle attentions are the reward for such patience, but there are too many bodies around and Reid has been slowly inching our way ever since Elio started talking.
The brawny man stops just down the railing, feigning interest in the island he certainly didn’t volunteer to explore.
“Shame about the captain, eh?” he says, his voice like grinding rock.
Elio straightens to glance at him. “Captain’s in fine health now.”
“Right. Thanks to the ship’s new nursemaid. I mean look at her”—his brown eyes leave a trail of disgust tingling across my skin—“any flesh loving creature would be in fine health, until the venom sets in.”
My nails ache from where they bite into the wood beneath them. “I’ll find Rune,” I tell Elio. “I’m sure we’ll be the first out.”
Reid turns as I pass him. “Aw, that’s right. Run run, little doe—”
My blood sings as my fist flies towards his face.
He flinches, and I pull back at the last moment, freezing the blow a hairsbreadth from his jaw.
For a moment, we’re both still. His face is flooding red, that rage taking over again.
I know how to deal with men like him. I lean close and unfurl my hand, then tap it twice on his cheek, hard enough to sting.
“Two for flinching,” I murmur. Someone laughs nervously, then others join in, heckling him about the look on his face.
“Odelia.” Rune’s voice is neutral but firm.
I face him, turning my back to Reid. “Yes, Captain?”
He’s across the deck. There’s a smattering of bodies between us, but I can see something flicker over his face, gone in an instant. “It’s time to go.”
I follow him to the boats, waiting for him to reprimand me, but he doesn’t. Tavi and Otto already sit on one side, which means I’ll be on the other, squished against Rune’s bulk. He holds out a hand again, but this time I take it without a second thought.
The manacle snaps over my wrist before I can lift my leg to board.
I still the instinct to bolt. It’s pointless to pull away—his grip is like iron, his skin burning into mine where we touch.
The chains are cold, and I can’t help the jagged sharp of hurt that pushes through as I look up to search his face. Does he plan to leave me behind?
Another clink of a lock finding home brings my attention back down to our wrists, and the manacles now strung between them.
He’s bound us, but I can’t read the expression on his face.
He knows I could shift. Chances are good that even if he was right there, I’d be able to slip away, so he can’t expect them to actually hold me.
There are murmurs from the crew that looks on. Some nod, as if it’s the most logical idea he’s ever had.
I wait for the rush of irritation, but it never comes. “This is going to make rowing a tad more difficult, isn’t it?”
His lips twitch. “Tavi and Otto will manage. Someone has to make sure you don’t run off without us.
” He projects his voice over the gathered crowd, jerks his chin towards the boat, then lifts his arm up and out so I can get in.
It rocks as his weight follows mine, straining the rope that secures it.
When we’re settled, I’m indeed squished—at least it feels that way, with the heat of his arm pressed against me.
Long sleeves again today. At this point, I’m not sure if any of the other crew have seen the extent of his injuries.
“Aren’t you going to ask why?” he murmurs the moment the boat settles into the water and Otto and Tavi collect the oars. Besides them, we’re out of earshot.
“I’ve given up puzzling through the choices you make,” I lie. Otto grins, but pretends he’s focused on the water ahead as I go on, “As long as you don’t jump into another death pit, I’ve no complaints being assured you won’t be able to leave the island without me.”
“Except that I have the key.”
“For now.”
He leans towards me, bracing his cuffed arm on the bench behind us so mine stays trapped as well. It wouldn’t have mattered. He’s half the size of the boat, his broad shoulders and chest blotting out the sun as he curls over me even as I sink back, half fearing and half anticipating his next move.
“Don’t you trust me, Odelia?” His grin is wicked sharp, and I swear he’s let a touch of the siren through as his voice travels directly to the part of me that aches every time he gets too close.
I couldn’t stop my fingers if I wanted to.
His shirt is like silk under my touch. I watch his pupils dilate, our gazes locked as I explore, brushing over the muscles of his chest, trailing over the sheer, impossible heat of him.
The blood races in my veins, spurred on by my thundering heart.
Curse this man and the salty citrus scent that envelops me now, forcing me to choose between ragged breaths and taking it deep into my lungs.
Distantly, I register that the sound of rowing has stopped.
No one speaks. Time is frozen, but for the trail of my insistent, greedy fingers.
“Only a fool would,” I answer. Somehow, though they’re soft, the words come out even as I rest the edge of his now-stolen dagger just below his exposed collarbone, quirk a brow, and press hard enough that blood beads over the blade. “Can I borrow this?”
It’s Tavi who laughs, jolting us from the cocoon of swirling tension. Her radiant grin catches me by surprise and Rune swipes the blade from my hand.
“You deserved that,” she says, sheathing her own readied dagger and picking up the oar again.
Rune’s mouth drops open. “You let her disarm me.”
She rolls her eyes, a smile still playing on her lips. The oars push us forwards with every slice into the water. “You let her disarm you.”
“After,” I point out, sitting up now that he’s given me space to breathe again, “you chained yourself to me.”
Rune scoffs, but his eyes are bright. “So it’s my fault? Bear, help me out here.”
Otto shakes his head. “Sorry, Cap. Saw it coming from a mile away.”
“I just don’t see why you haven’t given me a weapon yet.” My voice is dangerously close to a whine. I feel bare. The missing weight at my hip is a constant reminder of how vulnerable I am.
“You had one in arm’s reach for five seconds and I’m already bleeding,” Rune says, lifting a brow.
I bat my eyelashes innocently. “Then you shouldn’t be so careless.”
The first brush of sand under the row boat takes me by surprise. Rune hops out, getting soaked up to his thighs. His brows lift as he catches my wandering attention, a knowing glint in his eye. “But how else would I distract you from your debilitating fear of the ocean?”
We spend the first night on the shore. We circle the island twice to find the best spot, then hunters and scouts spend the entirety of the late afternoon canvasing the area.
Otto gets the game salted and set over a massive fire to smoke.
The crew take his direction as easily as Rune’s, bringing a continual supply of wood from just within the trees.
Strapped to their captain, I can do little to help.
Instead, we pitch a large tent and makeshift table, where Tavi lays out parchment like it’s precious glassware.
“There’s been no obvious concerns,” Rune says. “Arond said the game trail to the west leads deep inland, I figured we’d start there.”
Tavi uses the sharp of a small blade to hone the tip of string-wrapped black lead. She’s only outlined the island’s eastern shore and faintly marked where the scouts reported landmarks, but it’s already beautiful.
Outside, the sun truly sets just as Soraya starts to sing, the melody floating through the waxed canvas and urging me forwards.
It’s melancholy at first, that kind that tugs like the tide.
Some of the others join, not all perfectly in tune, but the dissonance isn’t out of place on this forgotten island, where yet more may find they’ve stepped off The Gilded Hart for the last time.
Perhaps they sing for those they’ve already returned to the sea.
Or those who will be gone before they go back home again.
The love that has touched their lives and then vanished, leaving everything muted, colder than before.