I’ll never…
Common sense slowly filtered back into his brain. He knew better than to let himself be so caught up by the wind.
Nocren let himself savor her lips a final time, then pulled back until a hand’s breadth separated them, breaking their kiss. He exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring.
Calya glanced to the side, and he followed her gaze. Neither Avenor nor the other man were anywhere to be seen.
“It worked.” Calya straightened up, sliding away from him as she dusted off her cloak. “My thanks, ranger.”
“What—” Nocren ran a hand across his mouth, fighting the urge to do something ridiculous and lick his fingers for a last taste of her. “What was that about?”
“I’m not sure.” Calya shrugged, indifferent. “But Brint Avenor meeting I presume someone from the university for a hush-hush argument can’t be good.”
“That wasn’t?—”
A ship’s horn sounded in the distance. Calya glanced toward the port, murmuring, “I’ve arranged a ship for— Oh, gods fucking break. Wembly.” She turned back to Nocren. “I have to go. Tell Captain Malek’ko I have a ship, but it has to sail within two days. Can you be ready?”
“Yes.” Not much of a choice there. “The captain is working out the details with the university today.”
“Bring the contract by as soon as it’s ready,” Calya said, replacing her cloak hood to ward against a fresh round of rain. “It’s a small ship. Can’t take very many of you.”
“I’ll tell him.” Nocren hesitated. “Miss Helm,” he said, unsure of how to address what had happened between them.
Her eyes darted down. Nocren stood stock still, but her lips quirked into an arrogant smile all the same. “Don’t make this awkward by getting sentimental on me now.”
He managed a wry laugh in response. “Of course not.”
She spun away, tossing back over her shoulder, “Name’s Calya. Use it, since we’re so acquainted.”
Chapter Five
“What is he doing here?” Calya bit out, pointing at Brint Avenor’s smirking face.
He sat in one of the plush upholstered chairs in front of Wembly’s desk, looking completely at home in the Helm Naval office. Far too comfortable for a man who had tried to turn the company into a life ring to save himself from his personal failings.
“He brought a message regarding our business with his father.” Wembly’s voice was calm, as if such a weak excuse was perfectly reasonable.
“I would think anything he touches is tainted,” Calya said.
Brint spread his hands in front of him, an affable smile on his handsome face. Her hand itched to punch him.
“Delivered the messages unopened, bearing my father’s personal seal,” Brint said. “I’m paying my dues again. Doing the grunt work.” His face molded into a chastised expression. “I know I’ve got a long way to go to rebuild trust, but I’m trying, Calya. I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry for it.”
Having worked closely with Calya for the last year and a half, Wembly must’ve seen the scathing reply gathering itself behind Calya’s gritted teeth. Before she could let it free, he cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of pulling the shipping logs from our record archives,” he said, opening a drawer on his desk and removing a thin folio. He offered it to Calya.
With a last frown in Brint’s direction, she allowed herself to be distracted. As distractions went, it was short-lived. The entry for the trip that had presumably carried Anadae’s wards showed no change. No request for a supplement at all. Which couldn’t be right. If Anadae had delivered the wards to an HNE ship—and there was no reason to think her sister had lied—then there had to be a record. It was standard protocol.
And yet… nothing. The log bore their logistics manager’s signature approving the submissions, and Calya’s own initials showed she’d reviewed it.
“It’s possible your sister sent her package on one of our partners’ ships by mistake,” Wembly said. “I can make inquiries and see if the paperwork can be found elsewhere.”
“AG has been working a lot more on routes going through the Valley this past month,” Brint added. “We do so much business together, maybe Ana put it on one of ours.”
“Dae worked for Helm Naval for most of her life,” Calya said. “She can tell our ships apart.”
Brint held his hands up, his manner exaggerated. “Well, I’m sorry, Caly, I’m just trying to help.”
“It’s Calya. You and I aren’t nearly so friendly. And I would love to be rid of you, if only your fuckups could be contained to your own interests.”
