In minutes, we’re dragging ourselves through the water beneath the pier and climbing over the rocks nestled there, glamours up to prevent illumination. Joran’s strong hands are on me, helping me, but the moment we’re clear of the sea, Raina and Hel grab onto my jacket and lead me to sit on a boulder near them.
I pat my body, making certain my weapons are still intact, even as I sense Joran beside me, finding me in the dark with such ease.
We wait there, dripping wet and catching our breath, save for Alexus and Zahira who disappear into the darkness, moving along the rocky bank, checking for any sign of life.
Jaega hisses, and though it’s impossible to see anything clearly down here, Joran’s deep voice says, “Someone’s bleeding.”
“It’s me,” Jaega confesses. “I caught my shin on a jagged rock. Or maybe it was wood. A nail. I don’t know. I just know I’m bleeding. I think a lot.”
“Raina?” Keth’s voice is quiet and shaking, tender as I’ve ever heard it. “Help her?”
My sister crawls over the rocks toward Jaega, her silhouette a gray scrape against the night as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I know she’s healing the young woman, even if I can’t see the magick being done.
“It’s not a terrible wound,” Joran tells me quietly, as though sensing my worry. “A trickle of blood, but she’s not bleeding profusely like you’re imagining.”
His words ease the tension already tightening knots along my shoulders as I squeeze water from my braid. The last thing we need tonight is for one of us to get badly injured.
“I didn’t know water witches have such a delicate sense of smell,” I whisper.
“The better to track with. I won’t lose you, that much is certain.”
I crumple my brow and tug off a boot to drain the water. “Why do you say that?”
A pause, and then, “Because I’ve scented your desire, Nephele.” His voice is somehow seductive and reticent at the same time. “I won’t forget it. I can’t. I might as well be a dog on the hunt now.”
My cheeks heat, and I’m thankful for the shield of darkness. But then it dawns on me that it excites me to know I’ve affected him in such a way, and he probably smelled that excitement before I even realized what I was feeling.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re as talented as any hound,” I reply, trying to draw attention away from me, hoping the scent of the sea on my skin masks whatever it is he smells.
He laughs. “Just something I was born with, I suppose.”
This conversation feels easy, unguarded for us both, so I do something I would never have dreamed I’d do a few weeks ago. “Thank you,” I say. “For staying with me. I owe you again.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “When this is over, I’ll claim that kiss. As for the other debt you feel you owe, I won’t call it due until I feel like you’re ready.”
I smile, sensing the innuendo in his words and wondering what in the world is wrong with me that I like it so much.
“Deal,” I say, feeling more brazen than I probably should. “I just have one question for you. Regarding the whole scent thing.”
Another laugh, and I feel him lean his hands back on the rock. “Ask.”
“Did you scent me the night of the wedding at Winterhold?” I whisper, bravely broaching the topic of our single night of passion last year.
There’s a pause, a moment of debate, perhaps, but then I feel him lean into me, his cool breath on my damp cheek, the side of my neck, against my ear. “Should I have?” he says, sending a shiver down my arms. “Did you want me then too?”
I start to turn my face toward his, to make him feel me as closely in the dark as I feel him. But his words make me freeze.
Surely he didn’t forget that night. He hadn’t been that tipsy. Sadly, I would’ve settled for just about anyone after that wedding, and he was there, and it just… happened. With this newfound tension between us, I think sex with Joran would be leagues better now, but he should have as clear a recollection as me.
Before I can press him for an explanation, someone moves behind us. Boots whisper from rock to rock and wet leather creaks. Alexus and Zahira.
“All right, the pier and docks are empty,” Alexus says, his voice hushed and deep. “Time to go.” His arms are stretched wide, hands gripping two of the pier’s pillars as he leans in to speak to us. The contour of his shape is barely outlined by the moonlight trapped behind a sky full of clouds, but I can see him.
“The warehouse is being prepared,” Zahira says, stepping up onto two rocks like a shadow. “We have a place to rest for the night, and a means to gather supplies tomorrow. We’ll work out the other details inside.”
“We just need to stay to the shadows,” Alexus adds. “There are only a few guards manning this side of the sea wall. Follow me.”
Everyone crawls from beneath the pier like spiders from under a rock. Across the rocky embankment we skitter, before hauling our tired bodies onto the wooden dock, moving on quiet feet.
