It must be the ship. Maybe repairs aren’t going as well as they’d hoped. Surely it’s not theinjured we brought—they’d shown no signs of infection, thanks to Otto. But what could be so pressing as to need Rune’s attention in the middle of the night?
“What is it?” I ask, and Rune tosses me a sleepy smile over his shoulder. His hair is mussed. He turns back to Elio, who ignores my question, and instead offers Rune a folded slip of parchment.
“It’s from Killian,” he says.
Rune’s entire body falls into a predator’s stillness as he reads the message. Whatever it is, it’s bad.
Elio’s gaze flicks to me, and his face is stone.
I barely hear Rune speak over the roaring in my ears. “Thank you, Elio. I’ll be right out.”
Elio’s nod has barely concluded before Rune closes the door, the sharp sound enough to make me flinch. His fist crumples the message into a wad of spent parchment.
“Rune.”
In a blur of speed, he throws it, hurling it to the wall where it hits with an emaciatedplink.
“Runewhat’s wrong.” I pull the blankets over my chest, too aware of my nakedness. I don’t know why I beg. I don’t know what could be worse than what we’ve already faced, but the growing tension in the room has my senses and my voice sharpening.
Instead of answering, he taps his fist on the little table, jaw so tight the muscles feather like it takes all his willpower to stay silent.
“Rune.” I stand, letting the blankets fall away so I can find the box of clothes he’d given me last night. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. Please.” He still says nothing. I slip my shirt on, then the trousers, the fabric soft and clean and not enough to comfort me now. All the while he stares at the grain of the wood below his fist like it might give him answers.
Instinct keeps my steps light as I round the bed to approach him, and I surprise myself by reaching out, finally able to bring myself to offer a hand to comfort. “Rune, whatever it is—”
He spins towards me, gripping my arm before I can touch him. His fingers dig into my skin like a manacle. “You lied to me.” The words are a hiss, brimming with hot anger.
I rip my arm away, a shock of adrenaline setting me on edge. I watch every shift of his body, every angle of threat. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs a manic, sarcastic laugh. “It always comes back tohim.”
“Rune—”
“I should have killed him the night I found you,” he spit. “I should have taken the chance—but it would have risked my men. And I thought you’d be the trick, give us some edge—and here we are. With most of my men dead after all. And me in fucking bed withhis fucking daughter.”
No.
My voice wobbles, “Rune, I never—”
He steps closer, if only so he can look down on me. “I pulled you from the water. Who knew you’d be so clumsy a Headtaker could send you over. What reason did I have to wonder if you shared blood with the rot of the ocean? But here you are—Nisse Ivor. Scourge of the Sea. The ghost thathaunts a ship before it knows it’s been boarded. The child wraith. What names am I missing,Nisse?”
“Don’t call me that,” I bite out, a flush of anger drying the water in my eyes. I close the miniscule space between us, baring my teeth. “Don’t ever fucking call me that.”
“You used me. You used me, and you lied,” he says, dismissing me, turning away and beginning to pace again. His bare feet slap the wooden floor in even thuds. There’s an accusation in the words, but I can only huff a laugh.
“Youagreedto the map. Why would I have told you anything else, Rune? So you could turn me in? Hang me? Confirm your suspicion that I was a twice-damned soulless wave viper closer related to leeches than your precious royal bloodline?”
He shakes his head. “But you could have told me before I—” He cuts himself off, and something like hurt flashes across his face before he moves for his clothes, turning away from me.
“Before what, Rune?” I press, hating the ice in my voice. “Before you ruined yourself with me?
His eyes flash, his expression now a mask as hard as mine. “I wasn’t the one who was ruined last night.” He shoves his legs into his trousers and buttons the clasp.
My face burns, and I don’t know if it’s embarrassment or anger or attraction as he pulls his shirt on and the toned muscles of his chest flex until they’re covered.
Either way, I can’t stand the silence. Every part of me feels unanchored. “So what now, you report me in the morning? See me hanged by sunset? Your entire crew will bethrilled.”
“Odi—” he sighs.
