“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Miss Captain,” he says. “I’m with you on this.”
“Good.” I gesture at Zayan and Fabien. “That puts you two on jungle duty. Vini and I will handle the other.”
Zayan’s eyes narrow a fraction, but he doesn’t argue. His silence is answer enough.
Ridley, peering through the mist, gestures at the islands with a sharp nod. “The one with the high treetops—that’s Solis, the sun island. The flatter one, barely any trees—just rock and scrub—that’s Lune.”
I nod, gripping my pistols for reassurance. The open island may lack the cover of trees, but it could hold dangers of its own—hidden ravines, jagged rocks, and no place to hide if something decides to hunt us. But that’s a risk I’ll take over wrestling with the twisted jungle paths any day.
“Right, then. We go in, grab whatever The Lady’s hiding on those islands, and get back here before first light. No time to waste.”
Fabien grunts, a muscle twitching in his jaw, while Zayan’s gaze lingers on me, a glint of something—worry, perhaps—flashing in his eyes. But after a moment, he just inclines his head and turns toward the rowboats lashed to the ship’s side.
I motion for Vinicola to follow, and as we head toward the rowboats, he glances back at the crew standing on deck, a flicker of unease in his eyes. “You think they’ll be alright?” he mutters. “What if the Marauders catch them before we’re back?”
“They won’t,” I say flatly. “We’ve outpaced them so far, haven’t we? They’re a day behind, maybe more.”
What I don’t say is that we have no damned clue how long this Trial is going to take. Or that the Marauders sail with The Lady’s blessing, and they’re gunning for us like bloodhounds with a scent. They’ll close in eventually, like sharks circling the edge of a bleeding skiff.
Eventually.
Instead, I give him a half-smile and start rolling my shoulders, loosening up for whatever hell waits on those islands. He doesn’t need to hear the rest of it.
Because whatever’s coming, we’ll need every ounce of grit and sheer will just to make it back. No room for doubt.
And sure as hell, no room for fearing Marauders.
44
Zayan
Watching Gypsy swim away with Vinicola in the opposite direction to me is worse than anything this island—Solis—could throw at me. And I’m not even mentioning the fact that I’ll have to be with Rancour of all people.
Now that alone deserves a curse or two.
There’s still something about him that gets under my skin. , like he’s got this constant need to pick me apart with that brooding glare of his. Doesn’t matter that we’ve cheated death together more than once by now; some instincts don’t die, and mine? They’re screaming at me not to trust the bastard. Hell, he could save my life, and I’d still be counting the seconds before he’d try to end it.
Some things don’t go away no matter what. I still don’t trust him. I doubt I ever truly will.
But now… now I’ve got to tolerate him. Openly. Or risk knocking that smirk right off his face. I just know our venture together is going to end badly. I justknowit.
I glance back at Gypsy’s skiff bobbing on the waves, mist already coiling around her, swallowing her whole. I catch myselfcounting the seconds until she vanishes from sight—until she’s out of reach all over again.
Until she’s yet again going to be somewhere far away and unreachable.
And here I was, fooling myself that this moment will never come again… That I’ll follow her no matter what.
Well, the Lady has different plans for me.
“What’s the hold-up? Prefer I take over?” Rancour’s voice slices through my thoughts, laced with that smugness of his that makes me itch to throw a dagger. I snap my head in his direction and see one those smiles of his. One of those that make my toes curl.
Gods, he’s an ugly bastard.
Sure, his tone might sound harmless, almost casual. But there’s always that edge in his words when he’s talking to me, a hint that he’s getting a kick out of testing my patience.
It goes both ways, though.
“I said I’d row, so I’m rowing,” I toss back, gripping the oars hard enough to make my knuckles go white. Each stroke pulls us faster toward the island, and damn if it doesn’t taste bitter. But the sooner we find whatever trinket The Lady’s so keen on, the sooner we’re back on that ship—and I’m back where I belong, with Gypsy. Simple as that.
