Darx’s v-shaped brows drew together, and he leaned back in his chair. “Are you coming for my cup? Or for more than that?” he asked in challenge.
Linc remained cool, understanding Darx the same way he understood Gissandre. Darx had supported him on the ship. He didn’t expect upheaval as a thank you for that trust. And Giss was feeling embarrassed that her wild outburst had been overheard and reported back to community leaders, and more, that the unimpressed warriors had seen the way Linc used her body for his pleasure and then suggested even rougher, more scandalous scenarios to subdue her. Early on, a clash of cultures was inevitable.
Linc switched to Ketturan, looking at Darx meaningfully. “She’s mine to handle.”
“Then handle her,” Darx said, rising.
She shuddered, watching them exit the house, then she hurried to a window to confirm their descent down the stairs of the mountain path.
“Was he serious?” she asked.
“Always.”
“That’s outrageous!”
Linc took her face in his hands and kissed her.
She pulled away. “Did you tell him so?” she asked.
“No, that’s the way of things here sometimes, but only with women who respond well to it.”
“And do you plan to see how I respond to it?” she demanded.
“No. No one punishes you except me.”
She cocked her head, clearly ready to argue even that point when the com buzzed. It was Lana, announcing that Zawri and Tokurn had arrived.
* * *
Gissandre raced down the steps, not bothering to wait for Larsinc. When she reached the base of the mountain, she was panting and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. A big hand caught her shoulder, and she looked over it to find Linc, who didn’t look like he’d been taxed by her pace down the stairs.
“They’re not going anywhere,” Linc said. “There’s no need to run.”
She tugged her shoulder forward to free it from his grasp. “I’m in a hurry. Which way?”
He gestured, and she rushed between houses until she reached the village’s center. She stepped on a bench to look around and spotted Zawri’s unmistakable sandy blonde hair.
“I think I see her!” she exclaimed. She took Linc’s offered hand to steady herself as she hopped down. “Come on!” she said, dashing through the crowds.
Zawri was being escorted by Varse and another black-haired man. But the other man wasn’t Ketturan. Giss recognized him as the handsome Canypscan pirate who was, by trade, also an elite hunter. She stopped suddenly, studying her sister’s face. Zaw had a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as they walked. The hunter had a hand possessively in the small of Zawri’s back.
Gissandre stiffened, her anger a flash-fire in her chest. Her sister had come to rescue her, when she herself was still being held captive? The shame of it almost buckled Giss’s knees. They were so close in age. Just because they’d grown up motherless did not mean that Zaw had to still act as mother to Giss now that she was of age. She would put an end to that. It was time she protected her beloved sister.
“What’s wrong?” Larsinc asked.
“He thinks he owns her. He’s confident in it. Look at her pinched face. The uncomfortable expression. Give me your knife,” she said, thrusting out her palm.
He slapped his hand into it and squeezed her fingers. “No. We agreed. If he needs killing, I’ll be the one to do it.”
She frowned up at him. “Then see that you do. Because if you let your former friendship with him interfere—”
“Gissandre,” he said with warning in his tone. “I made a promise to you. I won’t break it.”
She swallowed, her rage barely contained. She withdrew her hand and turned, drawing her shoulders back and forcing herself to continue the dreaded walk through the village.
“Gissandre!” Zawri cried when she saw her. She burst forward with a smile.
Tears immediately sprang into Giss’s eyes, and she ran to her sister. She flung her arms around Zawri, squeezing tightly. “Finally, finally, finally. I’ve missed you so much. My darling sister. I love you.”
