“Oh, should we, now?” Cecco lifted a bushy eyebrow. “And where would we get the products that only come from the Kizar Islands? They have metals there that we can’t find anywhere else on the continent. Those daggers of yours were surely forged from Kizar-mined ore. And we can’t forget their crops: sugar and fruit and hemp. We can grow a lot here in Onita, or import it from Vatha, but there are some things that are irreplaceable.”
The captain turned his gaze out across the sea. “And there are things they need from us, as well. Many, many things. They may be erratic and make questionable choices, but they would turn to far worse actions if we denied them trade.”
“Questionable choices?” Quentin barked a dry laugh, unable to stop his seething. “Those animals attacked my city. Murdered my people. I would say that’s far fromquestionable.”
Cecco sighed. “I heard about what happened in Verith over the winter. I’m very sorry for your losses. I wish I knew what spurred their actions, and perhaps you can uncover as much on this visit of yours.”
Quentin snarled. “If I had my way, we would be using this visit to tear them all apart for what they did?—”
“But we’re not.” A sharp, feminine voice cut through Quentin’s words. He glanced over his shoulder, some of his hot anger cooling as he caught Delaynie’s icy stare. She stood by the door leading to their quarters below deck. Her tight breeches hugged her delicate curves, light-blue tunic flowing in the breeze, auburn hair pinned up off the thin column of her neck.
Quentin forced a swallow. He really needed to stop noticing things like that about her. It wasn’t productive for anyone.
Delaynie’s chin tipped up. “Perhaps when we get there, the Armature should let me do the talking and not risk everything we’ve been sent here to do.”
Quentin blanched. “Of course, Del; I would never actually?—”
She was already gone, the cabin door slamming closed behind her. Quentin released a heavy exhale, shoulders slumping as he again faced the sea.
Cecco chuckled, deep and rumbling. “Sounds like you don’t need to wait for a meeting with the pirate lord to be faced with a challenge, boy.”
Quentin pushed a hand through his unruly hair, grumbling.
The sudden pitchof the ship, followed by a bone-chilling boom of thunder, jolted Quentin awake.
He blinked into the darkness, heart hammering in his throat. The ship tossed again, this time the other way, and he almost rolled into the wall at his back. The wood creaked, bludgeoned by waves, salt and the static of lightning tanging the air.
“Fuck.” He reached blindly for his baldric and threw it over his chest.
A storm. A bad one, by the sound of it.
Thank fuck he hadn’t gone to sleep naked.
He tried to shove his feet into his boots, cursing as he struggled against the violent heaving of the ship. Where the fuck had this come from? The seas had been clear and calm since they’d left Sacale. Nothing had loomed on the horizon when the sun set and the moons rose, bright and almost full with the approaching Solstice.
Quentin staggered out of his cabin, slamming into the walls. The wood creaked and the door next to his cracked open, revealing a pair of wide eyes.
“Where are you going?” Delaynie’s voice was sharp and cutting, the only sign of her fear.
“Stay below deck, Del,” he barked, bracing against the wall. “Please. I’m going to help the crew.”
“Why do you think you can help? What if you just get in the way?” She inched further out, a foot breaking past her cabin threshold.
Another wave slammed into the ship, sending them both staggering.
“I won’t,” Quentin ground out. “Butplease. Just stay here. Where it’s safe.” He held her stare, willing her to see all the desperation and fear coursing through him.
He couldn’t get through this storm if he had to worry about where she was, too.
Finally, as more thunder and lightning boomed and crackled outside, Delaynie gave a quick nod. She retreated into her cabin, slamming the door.
Quentin heaved a relieved exhale. The momentary bliss vanished as something popped through the air, hot and charred. Thunder shook him to his bones. Panicked voices leeched through the door to the main deck, footsteps pounding across the wood.
He surged up the stairs, gritted his teeth, and threw himself into the onslaught of the storm.
The deck was in mayhem.
Deckhands raced from port to starboard. The sails billowed and snapped, ropes flailing about in the furious winds. Massive swells washed over the sides of the ship, flooding the deck, as rain pelted from above.
