I come up sprinting, begging my legs to go just a little longer despite the way they protest. The silence behind me spurs me on. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the jump.
Somehow, he’s turned me around, and I’ve ended up moving towards the middle of town. A woman with tired eyes unlocks a door to a building whose sign I don’t have time to read. She turns, face going wan, and I veer far around, hoping to reassure her that I’ve no interest in mugging a baker or whoever else would be setting up shop this early.
The other side of the street has another alley, and I stop, trying to figure out where I can turn around. My chest is on fire, my legs feel like jelly. The scent of badly rotting compost shoves itself up my nose and down my throat, so rancid I can almost taste it as I gasp for air. The full body experience of it has my stomach rolling. I gag, on instinct, backing away.
Into Rune.
His blade is at my throat again even as he purrs in my ear. “That was fun.”
He holds my arm on the walk back, though he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to run again—not when our deal has sealed itself so well. He’s torn the side of his shirt, maybe from the climb? And his skin glistens alongside the shimmering symbols on the bare part of his chest peeking through the open fabric. Now that we’ve slowed, the novel sound of night insects join our quiet steps.
“Did I pass?” I ask. There’s too much unspent adrenaline in my veins to let his steps be the only sound.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And yet he sounds satisfied.
I glance up at him, waiting for more, but he keeps his gaze forwards. “Why give me the chance to run?”
He shrugs those massive shoulders but doesn’t loosen his grip. “I was bored.”
“You’re sadistic.” I laugh, and it sounds wrong in my ears. The reflex flares to tamp it down, but it’s faint.
He seems surprised too, looking at me at last. “Says the woman so eager to run.”
The tavern goers watch us as we pass, making me wish I still had my hood. The line is shorter, but a few standing outside elbow each other and throw their chins our way.
I tug against his grip but he holds firm. His hand is warm, contrasting how the night air cools the sweat on my skin. “You’re going to end up getting the guard called if you don’t let go of me.”
“Trying to go for round two?”
My stomach flips and I choke back another laugh. The thrill of the chase has settled into my bones, like the steady crackle of a lightning storm. “No.”
His smile is fierce. “Liar.”
Fish stench and creaky wood greet us as we enter the dock again. This time, the man with close-cropped hair who brought me food leans on the railing, but he doesn’t seem surprised.
Rune is, though. “Elio! I thought you were staying in the inn tonight.”
“Call it a premonition,” Elio says, obviously trying to hide a grin.
Rune pulls me up the gangplank and past the man entirely. “Ah, so you were still at the tavern?”
“Funny how fast word flies in a small town.”
For some reason, Rune doesn’t shove me down the brig, nor does he let go of me entirely. Instead, he pushes me towards a lone door in the back of the ship. Is this—?
“Rune, what is your plan here?” The woman’s voice catches me by surprise and I try to turn, but am shoved unceremoniously through the threshold. Rune spins, putting his body in the way. The woman watches me with clear suspicion. She’s fae, her long white hair tucked behind pointed ears. More interesting are the dual blades sheathed at her hips.
“I’m just making it up as I go along,” he quips, before shutting the door behind him and locking it, sealing us in.
There’s a desk to one side, holding a massive journal—maybe a ledger or log— and stacked documents with a mix of wax seals—one I recognize as being the inland royals, and another as the Lord of one of the isles on the southwest side of the Adamaris. Friends in high places. There’s a half empty mug set on one such stack that’s already coated in coffee rings, and a spy glass on the lone nightstand, next to a collection of maps of areas I don’t recognize.
My attention freezes on the giant bed that takes up most of the other side. Then, irritation flares hot, crawling up my neck, and it's a wonder my teeth don’t crack as I bare them, turning and looking right up into his too-smug face.
“You can’t truly believe I’ll be joining you in bed?” There are at least three ways I could dispatch him in this room alone. The mug looks like heavy wood, a letter opener lays haphazardly to the side, and there’s a halberd secured to the wall. His friends outside might protest, but they’d be too busy trying to stop him from bleeding out to worry about catching me.
He doesn’t seem offended by the accusation, merely lifts a brow. “I know that’s how things are in your world, Odelia, but you’ll find it’s very different on my ship.”
I turn away, trying to hide the flush in my cheeks. He’s so big there’s no way we’d both fit without touching. I don’t care if I have to sleep on the floor. He might want me in here to squash my chance of running, but there’s no way I’ll spend each night tangled up with him, smothered by his salt and citrus scent. “What would you know?” I ask, forcing the image from my mind. “You’re too busy sniffing royal arses.”
