While Yarina and Kiera obeyed with enthusiasm—and Roark, halfheartedly so—I turned to Nikella. “Flint and steel?”
She retrieved the two items she’d carried with her since I could remember from one of her pockets. “I suggest we rip out a few planks and keep the oars for easier swimming.”
“Agreed.”
Yarina and Kiera kept shouting at the top of their lungs while Roark and I ripped out the benches and unlocked the oars.
I nodded to Nikella, who tore off a chunk of her cloak.
“Might still be some oil in it,” she murmured as she laid it on the dry wood we’d just exposed by ripping off the bench.
“I can’t swim,” Kiera blurted out, as if she’d been holding back the confession. “Not well, anyway. And what of Yarina and her arm?”
“Don’t worry about me, princess,” Yarina said immediately. “I could swim there with no arms if I had to.”
While boasting was a beloved pastime of the Dags, I knew she was telling the truth. She’d grown up by rivers and the sea, always trying to beat her brother and sisters in contests of strength and skill. And then she’d tried to outpace me when I’d lived with them for a few years.
But Kiera . . .
She shouldn’t have come with us, but she was too gods-damned stubborn. Perhaps I never should’ve dragged her out of Aquinon.
“Keep hold of this plank, and you’ll be fine,” I said, handing her the chunk of wood.
“And Bardo?” Roark asked, staring at his friend’s body.
“His bones will join Mynastra’s sooner than intended,” I said softly. “We’ll drink to his honor on board tonight.”
Roark nodded numbly, clutching his oar.
“May the gods find his soul,” Nikella murmured, then struck her flint and steel together until the sparks caught on the oil-specked cloth. They danced over the dry wood, finding purchase like so many fireflies.
The memory of a firefly grove flickered in my mind.
“I’m yours.”
“And I... am all yours. For as long as you wish to keep me, little thief.”
I glanced at Kiera. Her eyes were closed in dread, her body turned toward the burgeoning flames as though soaking up what little heat she could before our cold plunge.
Gods, how I wanted you to keep me, Kiera.
I tore my gaze away and barked, “Stay in line with the burning boat so Skelly can find us easier. Go!”
Yarina dove overboard first, kicking through the dark sea while holding her piece of wood.
Roark followed, then Nikella.
Only Kiera and I remained at the prow, the fire burning steadily behind us.
Her profile was in shadow, but I’d memorized her features well. Not just the straightness of her nose or the curve of her cheek or the smoldering amber of her eyes. But the way her face lit up when she laughed. The way triumph made her look fiercely beautiful. And the way her face softened with desire when I’d made love to her in those stormy woods.
I hadn’t lied when I said I didn’t know her. I knew her expressions and her quirks, but I didn’t know her heart. Not when it had deceived me so thoroughly.
She glanced up at me as if she could feel my thoughts. A battle raged behind her eyes. A battle with no end, as she leaped into the waves.
I followed a moment later, taking up the rear of our floating line as we kicked toward the ship.
The frigid waves heaved underneath me. In moments, my gloved fingers were so numb, I could hardly tell that I was grasping my plank. My jaw ached from clenching it. Better that than continuously gulping salty water that tasted of fish.
