I stand there for a few minutes, my thighs clenched and shaking, my heart pounding. When I come down from that mindless high and can think again, I take a deep breath and shove the sashes back into his pack. I also withdraw one of his woolen tunics.
There are many things I shouldn’t do when it comes to him, yet this is another boundary I’m going to cross tonight. I hold the fabric to my nose and inhale deep before I strip free of my shirt and undergarment, replacing them with his tunic, which hangs over my hips.
I have slept in his arms too many times now because I feel so alone without him near. But I would die before admitting that. This will have to do until I learn to be without him. He’ll never have to know.
This time when I bury myself beneath the covers, surrounded by his comforting scent, my muscles languid from pleasure, sleep comes swiftly.
44
ALEXUS
“Think we’re past the Northland fleet?” I ask Dedrick, raising my voice over the wind.
We stand with Joran at the prow of the ship, staring over a sea of opaque, white mist that’s tinted with something other than magick, something I can’t determine no matter how hard I try.
I listen closely, as though there might be an answer in the night itself. But I only hear the usual song of sailing, the rhythm of howling air whipping canvas, waves crashing against the hull, the groan of wood as the ship sails from crest to crest, and the squawking of hungry gulls in the sky.
It feels as though we’re flying across the Malorian. The crew cast their maritime log over the ship’s bow last night to measure speed, but the white haze makes it impossible to see for counting the knots.
To maintain his balance on the swiftly moving ship, Dedrick grips the railing with one hand and leans on a wooden cane with the other. Carefully, he reaches beneath the collar of his blue tunic and removes a small hourglass attached to a metal chain around his neck. “Twelve-hour intervals,” he says, studying the falling sand. “Only a few hours left before time to turn the glass. So I’d say we’re very close.”
“We are indeed.” Joran leans his elbows on the rail as the wind rips through his silver hair. When he notices the draw of my brow, he adds, “I can sense the fleet. On the water.”
Water magick is my weakness, and I’ve never been in the position of depending on a water witch to guide me over a body of water, so I must take him at his word. But my mind drifts elsewhere. Now that I have the two men together, I broach a topic it seemed neither wanted to discuss last night, one I need an answer to.
“I’d like one of you to explain how this situation came to be.” I look at Dedrick. “How were you and your men persuaded to do this? The Watch will know. They might accept an excuse that you were taken by force, but I doubt it. This affects your ability to return home.” I turn to Joran. “And you have no money. No means to have bought Mr. Terrowin’s aid. Did you somehow kidnap these men?”
I can’t say I would’ve done any less, but I’m curious. Joran took Rooke’s head, the Northland Watch’s heavily guarded admiral, seized a ship and crew, and created this wall of white to shield us. Alone. Either he’s been withholding his ability for years, or something has changed.
I also wonder if Joran told Dedrick more than I cared for him to know, knowledge that could land us in danger if it’s pried from Mr. Terrowin with enough force by the right people.
Like the Summerland Guard.
Joran smirks and glances at Dedrick who tightens his hand on the mist-slicked railing, wide eyes facing the bowsprit, back stiff. “We worked out a gentlemanly agreement,” Joran says. “We can leave it at that.”
Like fuck, we will. I face Dedrick who’s far too quiet, his nerves visible. “What happens when you return to Itunnan’s port with the same load you left with and half the crew?” I ask him.
His curly hair is blown flat against his forehead in the wind. “I haven’t figured that out just yet,” he answers. “Perhaps I’ll claim we met with a storm or ship trouble and had to double back.” His amber eyes are bold against the surrounding mist. “I’ll take care of it, my lord. As I promised, I’ll see you all safely to my contact. I’ll deal with my plight from there.”
“Just like that?” I study him for a reaction. “Just like that, you’ll risk being detained by the Summerland Guard, questioned, and possibly accused of treason when they return you and your ship to the Northern fleet’s control. And you hold no worry for it?”
He takes a deep breath. Exhales. “I figure if Captain Osane is involved, your mission must be a necessary one. That’s all. I did hear rumors at the docks, so when Mr. Dulevia approached me, I wanted to help.” Nervously, he glances at Joran, so quickly I could’ve missed it.
But I didn’t. And I’m not a fool.
I turn to the water witch and move closer to him, until I’m leaning down in his face. “I don’t know what you’re holding over his head, but I’m going to find out.”
Smirking, he looks up at me with that silver stare. “I’m not scared of you. In the least. And perhaps you should remember that sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone.” He glances at the key around my neck and laughs. “Besides, you’re the man whose past is built on lies. And yet you worry about my dishonesty.”
His dig is a weak one. Now that the people who matter most to me know who I was, those barbs don’t cut the same.
“Just know that I don’t trust you,” I tell him. “And that I’m watching you.”
No more than I am in that moment, because Nephele steps onto the main deck below us, her pale blonde braid snapping in the wind, and as though she’d tapped on his shoulder, Joran turns around, his gaze finding her instantly.
A wave of protectiveness strikes, but before I can say anything, the Icelander shuffles down the steps to greet her, wearing a wolfish smile.
“Good morning.”
