“Shut. Up!” I say through clenched teeth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
A click sounds behind me. I whirl to find Odgar hunched in front of the door, his head nearly touching the ceiling. He points to himself, eyebrows lifted nearly to his curly hairline. “Me?”
“No, you giant oaf. I’m talking to the bloody voice in my head that chooses the most random times to talk to me.” Gods, do I sound unstable or what?
Odgar smirks, and I want to clout him in his infuriatingly perfect nose. “Giant oaf, eh? What a sweet term of endearment.”
I growl at him.Growl. And as embarrassment blooms on my face, Odgar’s low laughter rumbles through the cabin. My stomach tightens. With anger? Longing? I don’t want to find out.
“Leave!” I shout, shoving against his chest.
He doesn’t budge. Not even by a hair.
“Get out of here! Go!” Another shove that goes absolutely nowhere.
When I shove him again, he catches my hands and takes a step forward, forcing me back. I try to pull away, but with another step, I’m forced backward again. And again, until he sends me toppling onto a semi-soft surface. My heart lurches as the surface gives slightly. The cot.
The cabin suddenly feels far smaller than it already is. Odgar presses a hand against the wall to the side of the bed, leaning over me. “You’re free to strike me,” he says. “But you’re goingto damage your delicate princess hands if you keep striking my armor.”
I’m not sure what comes over me, but with a grunt, I kick out at him. He catches my ankle, and tugs me so that I somehow end up flat on my back.
“I think you were in Uldarvik for too long,revna. But alright, you want to hit me?”
I stare at Odgar, wide-eyed as he casts his battle-axe casually aside and begins unfastening buckles and laces on his leather armor. They hit the floor with a series ofthunksandclangs. I sit up, swiveling to face him, my back against the wall. The rest of his hidden weapons are next. My breath hitches as he rolls up his sleeves, corded muscles tensing beneath the symbols permanently inked into his coppery skin.
“Well?” He pulls his bronzed curls up into a messy top bun. “What are you waiting for? Have at it.”
The fight in me has been doused, but I hold my chin high, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he effectively distracted me. I stand and take one step toward him, but as I raise my hand to strike him, my traitorous body acts on its own volition.
His tunic is bunched in my hand, and I yank his head down toward me, crushing my lips against his. I’m sick and tired of feeling out of control all the time, of giving in to unwanted emotions. I charge him backwards until his back loudly rattles the door. He flinches before stepping forward to put some space between his back and the wood. I shove him against the door again, staring up into eyes likened to sunlight bleeding into the depths of the ocean. Gods, they’re so beautiful, I would gladly drown in them too.
This time, it’s Odgar who crushes his lips to mine. In a feverish squall of impatience and passion, his tunic goes flying as does my overdress. Hurried, frenzied kisses fill the momentswhen we’re not tearing clothing off each other. Lifted atop the narrow bureau anchored to the wall, I tip my head back as Odgar steps between my thighs. His tongue and lips explore my neck. His hand slides above my knee, pushing up my underdress. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his trousers as a loud pounding sound jars my senses.
“Odgar! Carys!” More loud knocking against the door emphasizes the urgency in Valdis’s voice. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest, but it’s Odgar who growls this time.
His eyes are glazed over as he lifts his head, but he doesn’t look away from me. “Go away, Valdis!”
“Get your horny asses out here,” Valdis shouts back. “We’re under attack!”
My stomach plummets, all pleasure along with it. “Shit,” I mumble.Under attack.We’ve only been on the sea for three days.
My heart races as Odgar lifts me off the bureau before gathering his own tunic and tossing my overdress at me. I swear there’s the smallest hint of embarrassment on his rugged face.
“I left armor at the door for Carys,” Valdis says over a rising tide of distant shouts and clanging weapons.
I get dressed in record time before Odgar haphazardly cinches the leather armor onto me and shoves my bow into my hands. The armor feels odd and bulky, but I don’t have time to fuss over it.
We resurface on deck to a skirmish of thrice as many people than just our crew. Alongside us is a full-rigged ship similar to ours, but with four masts instead of three. Beneath yellowed sails, a red flag with a winged lion flaps in the wind, denoting that they’re from Ardall like Seth—not exactly a political enemy but hostile nonetheless.
As the realization hits, I lock eyes on Seth. He fights back-to-back with Valdis, his movements fluid and effortless. Valdis’sattacks are sharp and precise. Her intertwined braids and flowing blond hair whip around her as she ducks the slash of her opponent’s sword and drives her spear through his back. The man drops to his knees as Valdis tugs her spear free and moves on to the next attacker with equal fervor.
My body starts to drift, as if I’m watching everything unfold from a distance. As if my mind is retreating into itself.
“Stay close,” Odgar shouts. I jump, my mind snapping back fully. My hands have gone slick on the bow, blood racing through my veins in a way that makes my limbs feel sluggish and my breath go shallow. Odgar shoves me behind him as a large Ardallan comes at me. I yank an arrow from the quiver on my back and nock it, but in such close combat, it’s not the best choice of weapon.
Tiernan was right; I should’ve learned to wield a dagger. Dammit!
I take a deep breath and summon flames to my hand as I step out from behind Odgar. My fire blast goes straight into the man’s face. He goes down screaming as his skin blisters and chars. I throw out a fresh conflagration at two more men who charge at me. One of them, his clothes in flames, still slashes wildly with a broadsword. Odgar flings his battle-axe into the man’s chest, and he drops dead.
