“You the ones?” he bellows over the storm, his breath creating curling white clouds snatched by the wind—though whether they’re from the cold or the burning cigarillo wedged in the corner of his mouth, I couldn’t say.
Ryc stops before him, much closer than I would like.
“Please tell me you’re the ones seeking passage to the island,” he says, his voice not as loud this time. “I’d like to get out of this blasted wind.”
“Yes, we’re the ones,” Ryc answers, his tone calm.
The male’s features light up with excitement.
“Perfect,” he chimes, peering between Ryc and me. “Four then?”
Ryc nods.
“Twenty thousand,” the male replies, pinching the cigarillo between his fingers.
Twenty thousand?
As in twenty thousandgold?
I’ve no means to pay that. I—
Ryc tosses a heavy, black leather pouch to the male and he catches it with ease. The rattle of gold rings sharp enough to cut through the wind. Drawing the rolled tobacco away from his lips, he exhales a thick, white plume of smoke toward the ground.
“Thank ya, sir,” he says, giving the pouch a hefty bounce in his palm.
“Consider your fee covered,” Ryc says. “With enough to purchase your silence.”
The smile on the fae’s lips turns wicked. “That it does,” he says, returning the cigarillo to his lips to tie the pouch to his hip. He juts a thumb over his shoulder. “This way, my new rich, anonymous friends.”
“We could have bartered,”I send the thought through ourbond and I’m met with Ryc’s shimmering amusement.“We could have threatened. We could have avoided paying twenty thousand gold—”
“This ensures silence,”Ryc’s calm reply is effective and it certainly silences me.
Fine.
Fae are only slightly less opportunistic than demons it seems.
“Captain Connak Hazelwind at your service,” the fae says as he moves around the stack of crates, swinging an arm to his right. A gesture to the small passenger boat tied to the dock. “Please take care when stepping aboard. Once you’re all seated, we’ll be off.”
Taking the lead, Ryc steps down into the rowboat with ease. He turns, offering me a hand, one I take with little hesitation. Already, unease screams through my veins. One wrong step and everyone here will see firsthand demons can’t swim.
The boat pitches under my weight as I step down, and Ryc quickly shifts to steady it. He guides me to a bench and I claim the seat with fervent haste. Ryc doesn’t release my hand, instead he gives it a gentle squeeze—I’m sure he senses my unease. My stomach rolls and I swallow hard against it.
And growing nausea.
This is going to be less than pleasant.
Eve comes next, assisted by Ryc.
She steps over the bench I’ve claimed, taking a seat on the bench directly behind me. If I were braver, I would turn and make some sarcastic quip. But right now, moving as little as possible feels the safest choice. May this be my first and last experience upon a boat.
As Cyran and Ryc settle into their seats, I ask, “This craft isn’t too small to cross these waters?”
The Captain steps into the boat, plunking himself onto the bench before Ryc and me with little care.
“M’lady, it’s not the size of the boat that matters. It’s whether the vessel lies in capable hands,” he replies. “You’ll come to find my hands are more than capable.”
A contemptuous groan rises from Eve and more of Ryc’s amusement resonates in my chest. Clearly, I must be missing something.
