Well, this day was turning out far differently than she’d expected. And for once, she couldn’t complain about it.
Chapter 60
“Ispy…something blue. Guess what it is.”
“Quentin, I swear to the gods, if it’s the sea again, I’m going to strangle you with your baldric.”
Quentin turned from the balcony with a smirk. “Now we’re talking, little wolf. Just the kind of freaky shit we need to pass the time.”
Delaynie, seated on the comfortable leather couch with an open book in her hands, flushed a splendid shade of pink. “Not what I meant.” She slammed the book closed, pushing back her shoulders and heaving a sigh. “Gods, don’t you know how to just sit still?”
His smirk fell slightly, chest tightening. He took a seat on a nearby stool, his leg bouncing as he twirled a dagger between his fingers.
No. He really didn’t know how to keep still. Hence why he had those new scars scouring his back.
And why he’d taken to annoying Delaynie with all the nonsensical games he could remember while they were stuck in this prison.
All things considered, it was a comfortable cell. He’d been surprised when the pirates hadn’t tossed them in the brig. Instead, Darius had led them back to the docks and all the way to shore, into the bustling heart of Tenevra. They were given a suite in a tall building overlooking the bay, consisting of a comfortably appointed living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom.
With a single bed in it.
Quentin had quickly volunteered himself for the couch, and Delaynie hadn’t protested. Even he knew better than to push herthatfar.
They hadn’t talked about the wreckage ofThe Vesper. Hadn’t talked about how she’d almost drowned, was almost dragged beneath the waves with the rest of the crew.
Hadn’t talked about what might have shifted between them. What she’d almost told him, before the arrival of Darius’s ship had sealed her lips.
Quentin shook his head, clearing his thoughts. They hadn’t talked about it because there was nothing to discuss. They were nestled in the heart of their enemy’s territory, little more than prisoners for these past three days. The last thing that should be on either of their minds was…well, whatever it was buzzing between them.
He slid his dagger back into its holster. “Maybe I’ll be able to relax once our jailers finally deign to acknowledge us.”
Delaynie shrugged. “They feed us. This place is comfortable and clean. They’ve given us new clothes. After how the last meeting ended, maybe we should just take each little blessing as it comes.”
He grumbled, turning back to the view of the bay.
She was right, of course. Quentin had definitely not succeeded in being diplomatic at that last meeting with the pirate lord. And when the sea goddess Krilene had strolled in,armor glinting in the sunlight, he’d more or less expected to be tossed overboard right there.
What he hadn’t expected was for the goddess to take one look at them, lift a thin brow, and depart as quickly as she’d arrived.
The pirates had looked just as stunned. Which was when Varyn had waved them off, Darius taking them to these rooms, and dumping them.
Presumably to be forgotten. But Delaynie was right: they were still being fed. A few books—nothing like what they had come here for—were already in the room. Two guards were always posted in the hall just beyond the door.
Beyond that, it had been atrociously boring. No visitors, no leaving. Just watching the bay from the window and pestering Delaynie until she locked herself in the bedroom.
Which would leave him alone with his thoughts, and that was terrifying.
In those moments of solitude, his mind often strayed to his mother. All she’d told him of his father was that he’d been from the Kizar Islands. Foreigners were not welcome ashore in Verith, but women of his mother’s profession still had to make a living. Going aboard the visiting ships was one of the easiest ways to do so.
Quentin cast his gaze about the bustling streets below. Was his father somewhere in this port? Or was he out to sea?
Maybe the ocean had claimed him many years ago.
Maybe he was alive and here and had a family of his own, with no idea that he’d sired a son on a prostitute in a foreign kingdom.
Quentin swallowed. So many circumstances, and he didn’t know which one he’d prefer to be true.
Probably none of them, and he could just continue living in his little bubble where he had no father. The only family he had was the one he made for himself.
