Lowe didn’t move. For the longest time, he didn’t even blink, his gray eyes boring into her as the air turned briefly electric. A flash of gold drew her attention to his hands, but then it was gone, his fingers curling into fists. His eyes pressed closed, his shoulders tensing.
Lowe exhaled, the wind quieting as if dispersed by his breath.
“Change,” he said softly. “If we go, things will never be the same.”
Calya frowned. “How cryptic.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t be any more specific?”
“Never ask the wind for specifics.” A huff of wry laughter escaped him. His hand flexed, but then he turned away. “Unless you want to risk my bias.”
She gave him a considering look. “And if I did, would you indulge me?”
“Haven’t I indulged you enough, Lady Heartless?”
Calya stepped closer to him. “I wouldn’t say?—”
“Caly!” Brint’s obnoxious tone carried across the dock.
“Goddess damning… motherfuck,” she muttered under her breath, turning to see Brint striding toward her. At least he appeared to have the shipping manifest in hand for her to sign and leave with the dockmaster.
“Is this the Sentinel rep?” he asked, jerking a thumb at Lowe.
“Yes, this is?—”
“Brint Avenor. Calya’s business partner,” Brint said, offering his hand to Lowe.
Calya scowled. “We aren’t partners.”
“Nocren Lowe,” the ranger said with an admirably neutral look on his face as he gripped Brint’s hand.
“The others are already on board if you wanted to check in with them,” Calya said to Lowe. He hesitated, as if unsure about leaving her with Brint, so she added, “I’m right behind you.”
“Isn’t he a little old for you to be flirting with?” Brint said as Lowe walked away. Probably loud enough for the other man to hear, though he gave no indication of it.
Ignoring him, Calya took the shipping manifest and moved to find the dockmaster.
Brint caught her by the arm before she could pass him. “Caly?—”
“It’s Calya,” she said in her iciest tone, jerking free of his hand.
He held his palms up, all dramatic innocence. “I’m worried for you.”
“I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear that I don’t give a fuck about?—”
Brint spoke over her. “This is your last chance, Caly—Calya. To get out. With the workload you have already for HNE shit. When I was talking to Wembly, it didn’t sound like he’d be writing happy thoughts to your dad. You can’t take this trip back once we’re on it.”
Things would never be the same, just as…
Gods all break. This was why she didn’t entertain divination; it tainted everything with the notion of prophecy. She’d already made up her mind. Neither man’s words would stop her.
Brint gave her arm what he must’ve thought was a friendly nudge. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Kindly don’t.”
Spotting the dockmaster talking with the captain of a neighboring ship, Calya started off in his direction. Brint followed, and when she glared at him, he did another of his exaggerated placatory gestures. “We’re just going the same way. I need to talk to him, too.”
The sail couldn’t get underway fast enough.
Chapter Seven
