Before I could finish, she was on her feet, the blanket wrapped tightly around her neck with one hand. “Take me to him!” Her hair flew around her shoulders as she gave the order, like some sort of barbarian queen. My cock went harder than steel in my pants as my wyvern urged me to claim her, mark her as my queen, and no one else’s.
“I will, if you promise to drink some water and eat some soup.”
She growled at me, until Whistler interrupted. “Torio just checked on him, miss. He’s still breathing. You get some water into ya, so ye’ll be able to help him recover, yeah?”
She nodded slowly at Whistler, then sank down on the only empty chair, by Kavin. I didn’t like seeing her so close to him; the way he looked at her was possessive. As if this young cub had some claim on my sky bond.
“I don’t suppose my cloak—my clothes and boots—were still with me when you found me?”
“They were indeed.” I gloried in the small smile that spread over her face. “They’re drying up top.” I set a full bowl of stew in front of her with a spoon and a hunk of bread. “It’s not much, but in a week or two, if the winds hold, we’ll make it to Wyngel. They’ll have much better.”
“A week or two?” Torio piped up. “But it don’t take…” I flattened my lips, and he stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth, chewing slowly.
Even in bad weather, it only took a few days to get to Wyngel in the sloop—the winds around the island always welcomed me home, and my crew could shave a day off the trip if we needed to.
“We’ll run out of food,” Whistler murmured in Volaran, our language.
“We’ll stop by the little island,” I replied, ignoring the suspicious glance Roya gave us. Torio’s eyes went even wider. The little island was off course; the one we usually stopped at when we needed was directly on the way to Wyngel. But that island got far too much traffic. The little island was our secret. “We can get coconuts, mangoes, maybe a boar if they’ve repopulated.” I nodded to the woman. My woman. “Apologies, Roya. We were speaking of reprovisioning. There’s a small island nearby, with—”
“Yes, with fruit and a pig,” she said. “Did I get that right?”
I blinked and questioned her in Volaran. “You speak our language? How?”
She shook her head. “I don’t speak it, though I can read it a little. There was a woman my friends knew long ago. She was sold to King Milian, and she had books from the country she was traveling to when she was taken by brigands. She had been learning her intended’s language. All my friends and I learned as much as we could. There wasn’t much else to do.” She had hesitated on the word friends; there was a story there.
“Her intended?”
“I never learned his name. She didn’t get to meet him, according to Valerie, my... my good friend.”
“Talon,” I said, forgetting myself as I heard part of a story we had wondered about for decades. “Her intended was King Talon.”
“The king of Wyngel?” Her eyes went wide. “He’s still king? He’s the one who put the embargo in place against Altair’s island. Maybe Altair can appeal to him. Talon could help him overthrow the regent and normalize relations.”
I fought back a bitter laugh. “Talon didn’t grow kinder over the years. He’s harder now, I hear. Crueler even than the last time I saw him, forty years ago.”
“How is he still king? And your brother? He must be very old, and you’re…. maybe fifteen years older than me.” Her gaze burned as she examined me. I knew what she saw. I may have been disgraced, but I’d stayed in fighting form, and wyverns didn’t age as humans did.
“I am much older than you,” I said at last. “By many years.” She and Kavin shot each other confused looks.
Altair pulled his head up though, and laughed. Painfully slow, he stood and shuffled to join us at the table, taking the chair Torio quickly vacated. In seconds, he had a bowl of watery stew. His face was so raw, his arms so thin and wasted, it hurt to look at him.
“Yes, you are, old man. Too old for her.” He chuckled and waggled his eyebrows when I scowled. But his words made Roya smile, so I forgave his impertinence. “I remember you at my mother’s funeral. You were there, but not Talon. He still making you pretend to be a pirate?”
“Pretend? I’ll have you know, I’m a very experienced pirate.”
Whistler let out a snort. “Too soft-hearted to be a true one. What we need is a pirate chief not afraid to get his hands a little bloody.”
He was about to go on when Roya stood abruptly. Her bowl was empty, and she clutched the blanket around her. “I need to see Thorn now.”
I let out a sigh, nodded to the others, and led her out of the room and into the captain’s cabin.
“Your cabin?” Roya asked, her eyes fixed on the unmoving figure under the thin sheet. You could make out the white strips of bandages I’d used to bind his broken ribs and the rest of the lacerations. Next to him, a mug of water and a bowl of broth waited in case he woke.
“My crewmates prefer hammocks, but your Thorn’s wounds were too extensive. I can sleep on deck for a few nights.”
Her eyes landed on me, and the gratitude in them roused my wyvern’s fire again. “I misjudged you. You’re taking care of a stranger, for no reason other than kindness.” She took my hand in hers, the blanket gaping and exposing her lithe arms. “Thank you, Icarus.”
Before I knew what was happening, she had laid a soft kiss on my cheek, her lips a brand that took my breath away.
