Quentin wanted to say more.
He wanted to say that yes, they had a job to do. That didn’t mean he could simply shut off a part of his mind or swallow down all the thoughts that had been brewing for weeks. It didn’t mean he could simply forget that night in the Vathan jungle, where they’d gotten so close, had almost said so much. The way he couldn’t stop fucking thinking about the way she smelled like coconut and vanilla, the way she looked so sharp but was really so soft, the way she made him want to scream and cry and tear the whole world down just for a chance to sit at her feet.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he dropped a half-step behind Delaynie and followed her into the towering height ofTheSerpent’s Mercy.
Gods,the ship was insane.
Mahogany flooring. Sweeping staircases. Gold inlaid into the bannisters and detailed along the walls. From the docks it looked like a warship, but inside it seemed built for pleasure and luxury.
Every inch of it made Quentin want to slip his daggers free from his baldric and lose himself upon this ship.
But that would be bad.
Right?
Darius sauntered ahead of them, hands shoved into his pockets, a picture of leisurely grace and obnoxious confidence. The pirates hadn’t even bothered to relieve Quentin of his weapons. They were that confident in their superiority on the sea.
For once, Quentin couldn’t blame them. He was fast, but he had no doubts the magic of these people was faster.
Darius halted outside a splendidly crafted door, carvings of kraken and sea dragons and other mythical creatures of the deep etched into the wood. He gave two firm knocks before rocking back on his heel, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
Quentin almost lifted a brow. Was the pirate princenervous?
A gruff voice answered from the other side of the door, deep and steeped in a lifetime of power.
“Enter.”
Darius, jaw clenched, undid the latch and ushered them into the pirate lord’s office.
If Quentin had thought this ship was grand, it was nothing compared to this room.
The space was constructed from warm mahogany, artifacts from all the continent’s kingdoms adorning the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows faced the bay, gilding the room in blues and golds and all the colors of the afternoon sea. A massive desk commanded the center of the office, maps and scrolls scattered across its marred surface. The chair was swiveled away, its occupant facing the setting sun.
Darius cleared his throat. “Father.” He bowed his head, though the man in the chair didn’t turn. “We picked up a few Onitan travelers at sea a few days ago. They say they’re from the new Queen’s Court and come carrying a message. Just as she predicted.”
Quentin scrutinized Darius. The pirate must be talking about their goddess. The question hovered just on the tip of his tongue.
Delaynie pinched him.
Fine. He’ll continue holding his questions. Fordiplomacy.
The man in the chair chuckled. “I didn’t expect her to be wrong. I am just constantly surprised that any Onitans would be stupid enough to make her right.”
The man rose, striding out from behind his desk with a graceful walk. He halted with a smile, folding his arms behind his back. His long copper hair was unbound around his shoulders, sea-green eyes carrying a poisoned malice that curdled Quentin’s stomach. Delaynie’s eyes widened, spine straightening, eyes bouncing between Quentin and the man.
Quentin just tensed his jaw tighter.
Darius gave the man a smirk. “I am honored to introduce my father, Varyn Draethos, Lord of the Kizar Islands and Master of the Mirrored Sea.”
Varyn chuckled. “And who might our Onitan guests be, Darius?”
Darius opened his mouth, frowned, then scratched his chin. “You know,” he said, “I don’t think they ever actually shared their names with us.”
Annoyance flashed over Varyn’s features, lip curling. “Sometimes, son?—”
“My name is Delaynie Albellane.” Her clear, politician’s voice rang through the resplendent room. “I am a Lady of Queen Mariah’s court. We come to speak with you, Lord Varyn, on the authority of our queen.”
