I meet Ryc’s gilded stare. “Yes.” I nod. “Let us find the answers we need and be done with this.”
As we descend the stairs, Connak once again appears out of the fog. He stands beside an opening in the guardrail and with an upturned palm gestures to what appears to be open air. The dock lies a fair distance below.
I’ve seen this—in the North Docks.
Sailors disembark using a primitive plank.
Well, at least I won’t be forced to descend a rope ladder.
Eve sneaks in beside me. “You look like the hells have had their way with you,” she mutters in low tones.
“Apparently demons aren’t immune to seasickness,” I return quietly in Malbolge.
“Surprised you stayed out here as long as you did,” she quips in like with an impish grin. “You could have laid in Captain Cuckhold’s bed if you needed.”
As I return her sentiment with a flattened glare, she stifles her laughter behind a curled fist. But my own smile creeps upon my lips, unable to deny the dig Connak will never hear.
Ahead, Cyran descends the gangplank first, joining the ship’s Captain and a few other sailors on dock. Ryc, wearing his own amused smile, passes my hand to Eve’s arm.
“I’ll catch you should you decide it’s easier to run,” he says with a quick kiss to my brow.
Run?
Before I can ask, he’s stepping off the ship.
Sucking in a deep breath, I step toward the edge and peer down.
Dizziness rushes to greet me.
The damned plank is a nearverticaldescent to the dock. And of course Ryc traverses it with ease. The deep breath in my lungs leaves in an explosive sigh.
“I swear to the gods, Ves, if you fall…” Eve whispers behind me.
“I’ll grab your hand,” I retort over my shoulder as I take the first step.
“Can you keep your eyes forward, please?” she urges, piercing me with a chiding glare.
Laughing, I make my descent.
It’s easier than it appears and, thankfully, I step onto the dock with no incident. No icy plunge, no water-logged lungs. And gods does solid,unmovingground beneath my feet feel utterly divine.
Ryc, waiting, reaches for my hands as I approach.
Instinctively, my hands answer, finding his. I peer up at him, catching a glimpse of darkened gold beneath his hood, shining despite the shadow. He draws me into him, as we wait for Eve to join us on the docks.
Overhead, lanterns hang in the apex point of each arch. Contraptions of weather-worn silver with fogged glass panels. As I stare, the nearest flickers to life, illuminating the fog with a bright silver glow.
A few low murmurs rise from Connak’s crew.
One after another, spreading in both directions from the one above, silver light flares through the darkness. Each lantern lengthening the line of silver down the dock.
“Never seen that kind of welcome,” Connak says and as I lower my gaze, I find his, accompanied by an arched brow. “Aether’s a capricious goddess, isn’t she?”
He turns to his crew, giving them orders on preparing to wait out the storm. As he does, he lights yet another cigarillo.
“I doubt his pocket is filled with sand,” Eve whispers, appearingbeside Ryc and me, her eyes fixed on Connak as he shoves his waved-out match into his coat pocket.
A silent smile curls Ryc’s lips.
