“Maybe even three,” he reminds me.
When I sit down, my mind flashes with the memory of the troll who had found me on the ship, and I recall the fact that I am covered in its sticky, purple blood.
“I should probably change my clothes,” I say.
I wonder absently if I will be able to change without tipping over the side of the boat.
He hands me my bag, and those golden eyes dance with mischief.
I have to stand to snatch the bag from him, and I'm careful not to make any unbalanced, sudden movements that might land me in deep shit.
When I sit back down, I rummage for each item I need. I gently strip the clothes I've been wearing, for what seems like days, off my sticky, sweat-soaked body.
Raiden clears his throat. “If you hand me your soiled clothes, I'll wash them as best I can for now.”
The offer has my heart seizing. No one has ever really taken care of me before. This male has paid more careful attention to my basic needs than anyone in my life. It's almost endearing, but I shake off the feeling.
I shimmy out of my leathers, handing him the dirties once I'm fully dressed in order to avoid a potentially awkward encounter.
“Thank you,” I say, watching him scrub as much of the troll blood as he can out of my clothes.
“It's no problem at all, Arina.” The sound of my name on his lips has me covered in goosebumps, which, combined with the frigid air of the ocean, makes me shiver.
“Still, I want you to know I appreciate it,” I tell him, hoping not to give any hints to the storm swirling in my stomach.
He just looks up and gives me the most devastating smile. Shit. I should not be having these feelings. Especially not for him. Damn this desire to be wanted, chosen, cared for.
Bone-tired exhaustion pulls at my body, and I set to work on making my corner of the boat as comfortable as possible so that I can lay down.
When I finally settle in, I look up at the sky, and my breath leaves me in a rush.
“What is it? Are you alright?” Raiden asks, moving to my side.
Needles prick the back of my eyes at the sight of millions of tiny lights covering the sky where the Smog used to be.
“I've heard of the stars,” I say in a whisper. “I've just never seen them before.”
It takes effort to peel my eyes from the lights twinkling above us and find his face. I had been so distracted by the attack that I did not realize how much lighter my body felt until now.
Raiden gives me a pitying smile, and I hate it. I don't want him to feel sorry for me. I'm not the only fae who's never seen thestars. A pang of guilt hits my chest. I don't know how to enjoy this knowing there are still people within the Smog suffering.
“You're allowed to be happy and feel relieved to be free of it, you know,” he says, doing that thing where I swear he's inside my mind.
“I know,” I sigh, though it does little to convince even me. “I just don't understand.”
He tilts his head to the side, and damn, if it isn't the sexiest thing. Focus. “Understand what?” he asks.
I lay my head on my pack and roll onto my side, facing away from him. “Why would the gods allow so much suffering?”
“They're not allowing it. They're fucking orchestrating it.” There's deep anger in his words.
My eyes are heavy, and I close them, but he's not making sense, and I still want to listen to him talk. “What do you mean?”
“We all have a part to play in the games of the gods.” I can hear the shrug in his tone.
“And what is your part?” I ask through a yawn.
“To rebel, of course.” I can hear the wicked smile in his voice.
