“He is,” Vorik said. “How odd that he accusedmeof being inhuman.”
“He was awed by your strength.”
“Alarmed by it, I’d think.”
“I need to do what I was trained to do.” Syla nodded toward the waiting men. “But I’d like to… speak further with you later.”
“Speak?” Vorik twitched an eyebrow, wondering if she’d come down to question him before being distracted. But, by now, she knew he wouldn’t answer inquiries about the plans and movements of his people.
“Vigorously.” Her own eyebrows twitched. Or maybe that was a seductive waggle.
Whatever her intent, it made his aroused body want to spring to the door, slam it shut, and return to what they’d been doing.
“What is Wreylith’s favorite meal?” Vorik blurted, less because he was worried about satisfying Agrevlari’s curiosity and more because he didn’t want Syla to leave. He knew she had to help her wounded troops, but she looked so tired. Shouldn’t she rest first? Perhaps while cuddled in his arms in the aftermath of…
Syla looked back at him. “I’m not sure about her favorite, but she enjoys elioks and horn hogs.”
“Thank you. Agrevlari wondered. He has offerings in mind. He enjoyed their cactus-flower-induced dalliance.”
“Ah.” Syla stepped into the doorway, no suggestion on her face thatshewould dally. “May I have your word that you won’t escape?” She waved at his broken shackles. “I suspect there’s nothing I could do to hold you if you wanted to leave.”
“I…” Vorik’s penis wanted him to give his word without hesitation, but his brain managed to hold rein over his tongue. He was a prisoner, and his people were at war with hers. If an opportunity presented itself, he had to escape. More, he should try to complete his mission and kidnap her. If he voluntarily stayed here, it would be a betrayal of his orders, his duty. By the eyes of the moon, why was it all so complicated? “I don’t think I can give my word on that.”
“Ah.” Syla looked disappointed but not confused or surprised. “I would promise to reward you for staying, but that would be manipulative.”
Contemplating whatkindof rewardshe had in mind excited his groin all over again, but he tried not to let eagerness show in his eyes. “I think you’re supposed to be manipulative with enemies. And conniving.”
“I don’t want to win a war that way.” Syla lifted a hand, then stepped into the corridor, letting the soldier and Sergeant Fel lead her away.
Vorik closed his eyes, glad shehadn’tpromised a reward. That would have left him even more conflicted if the opportunity to escape arose.
Long after the door thudded shut, the lock turning with a thunk, he stood with his broken shackles dangling from his wrists and debated what to do next.
Syla woke when someone prodded her shoulder. She blinked a few times before remembering where she was. She half-sat, half-slumped across a stool and the lower half of one of the narrow bunks in the warship’s infirmary. A couple of bumps under the blanket confused her until she realized they were someone’s legs. After healing five people, she’d fallen asleep, utterly exhausted, before finishing the sixth.
“Sorry,” she murmured to her patient, her eyes gritty and achy.
Her entirebodyached. Her back and neck were stiff, the arrow gouge she’d received stung, and her hip throbbed when she shifted upright. She’d been exhausted when she’d stumbled off the weapons platform, and she hadn’t gotten an opportunity to rest after that. Before going to check on Vorik, she’d been drawn into a meeting with the fleet commander. Surprisingly, he’d consulted her for direction, wanting to know if their ships should only occupy the harbor or if he should send troops into the city to search for wounded and free prisoners. Not sure how long they would have before the stormers retaliated, Syla had told him to send as many men as he dared and that theycould take anyone who wanted to go back to Castle Island. Unfortunately, she still didn’t have a shielder to make the reclaiming of this island permanent. And, she reminded herself, they only hadpartof it.
“It’s all right, ma’am,” came the amused voice of the soldier she’d fallen asleep on. “Er, Your Majesty.”
Sunlight beamed through the porthole behind his bunk. Was it dawn already?Pastdawn? It had been early nightfall when she’d gone to visit Vorik.
“How long was I out?” she wondered.
“All night,” came a dry voice from behind her. Aunt Tibby. Was she who’d woken Syla?
Tibby set a mug of coffee and a muffin on a small table for her. Sergeant Fel stood by the door behind her, bags under his eyes. The poor man must have stayed up all night watching over Syla. He needed a break. She wished she could give him the retirement he deserved so he could trulyrest.
“Was I sleeping on…” Syla looked back to the soldier. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”
“Corporal Genlikar, Your Majesty. I was unconscious when you started healing me, or I would have properly introduced myself.” He glanced to the side, as if wondering if he should get out of bed so he could drop to one knee.
Syla lifted a hand to stave off any such effort, especially since she hadn’t finished healing him.
“And it’s all right,” he added. “You sleeping on my legs, I mean. It’ll be a story I can tell my kids someday.”
“As if someone as reckless as you will live long enough to have children,” a grumpy male voice said.
