Throwing my concerns to the wind, I shrug out from under Lark’s arm and step onto the narrow plank. As I board, the ship rocks, a crate sliding dangerously close to the edge. A firm grip seizes my arm, yanking me aside just in time. The crew rushes to secure the cargo, tension crackling in the air.
My gratitude dies on my lips as I look up and see who that arm belongs to.
“Try not to get yourself killed before the mission has even started.” Raven’s eyes glimmer with a familiar amusement, yet it feels strained, as if struggling to conceal something beneath the surface.
“Worry about yourself, Raven,” I snap, trying to pull away from his grip.
He doesn’t let go.
The air between us thickens, charged with an unspoken challenge. His grip remains unyielding, and his eyes meet mine, steady and assessing, as if daring me to break the silence first. I refuse to flinch, holding my ground even as irritation prickles at the edges of my composure.
For a moment, his expression softens, as if he’s weighing his words before speaking. The change is subtle, nearly imperceptible, yet I stay motionless, curiosity swirling despite myself.
A soft thud sounds behind me, and Raven’s fingers flex on my upper arm before he releases me and steps back—his expression impenetrable once again. The tension between us lingers, unresolved, as I turn away, my heart pounding with frustration.
“Oh gods,” Nyssa groans as the ship lurches again. “If I don’t find these sea legs everyone talks about immediately, this is going to be a painful experience for us all.”
“I’m putting a silverdrachmaon my little sister puking her guts up within the hour,” Lark states. “Any takers?”
“That is a bet I’m not willing to take,” I say as I scan the ship.
The main deck sprawls wide, a stark contrast to the cramped triremes of old. Three towering masts support heavy sails, their ropes crisscrossing like a spider’s web, with the central mast reaching skyward, crowned by a crow’s nest. The deck is flat, with only the raised helm at the rear. Crew members stomp across the wooden boards, calling out to one another as they secure crates and tighten knots. The ropes fixing the ship to the dock creak and strain as the water rocks the vessel from below.
“Come on,” Raven says. “I’ll introduce you to the captain.”
The three of us follow him up to the stern while the rest of the Flight hovers on the main deck. A burly man stands at the helm, one hand on his hip and the other shielding his eyes from the rising sun as he watches his crew climb the rigging.
“Captain Nikolas,” Raven calls as we approach.
The man turns, a broad smile taking over his roguishly handsome face as he clasps hands with Raven. Nyssa hums behind me, and I bite my lip to hold back a smile.
“Lark you’ve met, but this is Starling and Sparrow.” Raven indicates each of us in turn.
My chest tightens at the sound of my new name, but I offer a smile as I take in the captain’s features. His black hair is tied back from his face, a few shorter strands falling forward. He’s shorter than Raven’s six-foot-two, but significantly broader. A strong jaw and nose, deep umber eyes, and warm olive skin offset by a dazzling smile all come together to form a handsome face.
In short, he’s exactly Nyssa’s type when it comes to men.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain,” the woman herself purrs.
Laughter bubbles up through my chest, and I bite my lip to keep it at bay.
“And you, sweet Sparrow. But, please, call me Nikolas.” He flashesher that roguish smile, and when his gaze lands on me, I offer a greeting of my own.
“How long until we leave port?” Raven asks, glancing at the horizon.
Captain Nikolas’s eyes flicker with a hint of something unreadable. “Soon enough. The sea’s been restless lately, but we’ve got a good crew and a sturdy ship. We’ll need both for what lies ahead.”
A tense silence builds after the captain’s words, and Raven clears his throat. “Are we able to use your cabin for a briefing?”
Captain Nikolas gives a nod. “Of course. I trust you’ll get your Flight settled?”
Raven nods before gesturing for us to follow, and we fall into step behind him.
“I’m hot,” Nyssa says, fanning herself as she blows out a breath. “Is anyone else hot?”
“Careful, Lark,” I tease. “I think your sister may be feeling a bit faint.”
He groans in response, nudging her down the stairs to put distance between her and the captain.
