“Enough. I agree that a wraith is more likely than a faeyte.” Sol crosses his arms, his eyebrows raising. “We should all go. It could be dangerous.”
“She’s not dangerous,” Leo pipes up. We turn back to him. He’s worrying at his bottom lip. “She’s chained to the wall.”
All eyes immediately move to my face.
“Is she now?” I murmur the words, even as a chill runs through my gut. “What else did you learn, Leo?”
The chill doesn’t dissipate. It only grows, along with the sense of betrayal in my chest.
“Smee, you’ll stay here. It seems that this wraith can hold a conversation.” Ignoring her protests, I stride over to the door that leads down to the cargo bay and yank it open, disappearing inside.
A stowaway is one thing.
But someone chained to the ship is entirely another.
Chapter seven
Selene
The boy left the lantern behind in his panic.
Sighing, I settle awkwardly back against my section of wall, lifting up one knee to rest my arm on and watching the flicker of the flame inside the glass as it dances back and forth.
I don’t have to wait long.
There is no quiet scurry this time. The door bangs open, crashing back against the wall. Despite myself, I flinch.
This is no child. The footsteps are heavier as they tread the wooden floorboards, slow but steady as my new visitor navigates the pathways.
Instincts war with inertia, and I keep my eyes on that flame, even as a large pair of boots step into view beside it.
They have chained me effectively enough that the only weapon I might deploy is my mouth. So I keep it closed, unwilling to show any form of hand so soon.
A deep, inhaled breath. And then words—deep and smooth, reverberating around me.
“You,” the male says quietly, “are not a wraith.”
His voice is even enough, the low timbre surprisingly not grating. Although after living with Boralas’s nasal tones for ten years, any change is a relief.
I consider my words carefully. “Would it be better if I were?”
My eyes lift from the flame. I blink away the lights left behind to dance in my vision, taking him in.
This is not a child.
This is a man. Broad of shoulders, tall enough that I’d likely need to look up at him, even with my own height. The light of the lantern illuminates the sheen of golden skin, so deeply kissed by the sun that it almostshines, and I blink as I study it. There’s a flush in his cheeks as he drops to his haunches, staying well beyond my reach as he examines me just as closely with blazing bronze eyes that almost match his hair, flecked with gold in the warm light.
His movements are graceful, almost feline as he rakes back strands of gold and brown that threaten to fall over his face. I drop my gaze to the weapon at his waist. A replica of the child’s wooden sword, but far sharper, I would wager.
I keep my words short. “Where am I?”
He rocks back slightly, the scar that bisects the right side of both his upper and lower lip vanishing as his lips press together before he responds. “How did you get onto my ship?”
So, this is his. I file the information away. “We both ask questions I assume you would be able to answer, not I.”
The faintest lines appear at the corner of his eyes at that. He’s young, for a captain. Not that I know enough about it to truly know. But I would have imagined one as older.
If I had to guess, I would place him as not much older than my twenty-six winters. Thirty, perhaps.
