by Raine Miller
Alan took a breath, Mick’s eyes slid to his, and a minor nod from Jezebel’s lover reassured him.
Glacious moved closer, looked down on the Emily’s pale form, trying to pull the furs back around her body. It frightened him, how fragile she appeared.
“Poor thing. She looks quite worn out—perhaps it would be kindest to let the cold take her.”
The icy voice, pretending at a concern he knew she was incapable of feeling, fired Alan’s blood. He slowly stood and bowed to her. “My queen, that would be one course to take. Another would be to allow this poor sailor and Captain March time in the hot baths to recover. You often complain that no one visits. You’ll have three to entertain, once she has recovered.”
“Ah, good point, Alan. Very well, escort these two…wait! Captain March? Oh, my. You’ve spoken of him. Claimed familial ties as an excuse to block your curse from taking him down when he attacked you. I see little resemblance.” She took a step around him and faced Mick, who rose at the words.
Mick stood perfectly still while she ran an icy finger down his face. Alan knew what that felt like, and admired his standing her touch without reacting. The line of confusion between his eyes smoothed out, and he actually winked at Glacious, lifted a hand and gently took hers in his, pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Ah, the Lady Glacious. Silvestri spoke of you, also. But his descriptions did little to address your true glory.”
“You marked my knight and never paid for it, Captain March. A daring thing to even attempt. I look forward to conversing with you later.” She turned and stared a moment at Alan, a cold, calculating expression on her face. Much different than the lovely simplicity she’d shown Mick.
Silvestri fought not to shiver. But she drew one long powerful tremble from him. With an arch smile, she blinked, turned to leave the great hall. “We dine in an hour.”
Silvestri bent and eased Emily into his arms. “Follow me, Mick. Speak quietly—these chambers have ears.”
Mick pulled a scarf from his pocket and rather awkwardly worked to bind Emily’s raw palm while they strode from the hall.
“I remember your stories about her. I thought them fancies, I admit. My God, she’s beautiful.”
“Yes, and this palace is beautiful,” Alan answered, loud enough to be heard. He lowered his voice. “Why is she with you?”
“It’s more that I am with her. She tricked me into a cutter and knocked me unconscious, tied my hands. She wasn’t awake, Silvestri. She woke up right before we entered this delightful place!” From a matching whisper, he let the last few words ring out.
Alan looked down at Emily, shivering in his arms. “Damn it. She did it. Somehow the icy bitch did it. I needed you here, but I didn’t want Emily to come with you.”
“I savvied that. You claimed me a family member?” Mick tucked her injured hand close to Silvestri’s sleeve. “Nice trick!”
“No trick. You are my brother, Mick. It’s the truth. I can’t go into it right now. Help me keep Emily safe. And when the time is right, stand with me to bring the Kraken into this place.” Silvestri turned to see Mick staring at him. “I swear on all I hold dear—on this woman, in my arms—I am speaking the truth.”
“Yes, but about what.” He raised a hand and waved it about. “Never mind. I understand we are in a perilous situation. The Kraken? How will we escape, Silvestri? I like my skin.”
“The Immortal stands ready. Help me, I have a plan, straight from Mama Lu. After, take Emily and I to Tortuga, and the ship is yours. If I don’t survive, swear to me you’ll see her there. Either way, I am done with the ship.”
They reached the hot springs, a cave of black rock in the midst of the ice. Mick took a deep breath. “Reeks of sulfur, but it looks hot. Thank God. She needs something warm to wear after she leaves the pool. And food. This meal, will it be enough to help Emily?”
“Eat little at her table, Mick. It will freeze you.” He set Emily gently on a stone bench and pointed to a chest. “Provisions are there, from the Immortal. They are safe to eat. I’ll have appropriate clothing sent. And boots. Dear God, her feet!” He tried to pry the tattered sandals off. One disintegrated in his hands.
He knew Mick was watching and calculating while he took care of Emily. The man always proved masterful at assessing situations and adjusting to them. He pulled open the chest and hauled out a small sack of apples, along with a wrapped package of cheese and pork. Breaking the pieces small, he coaxed Emily into eating while Silvestri stripped off her clothes. She ate, but showed no real awareness of her surroundings or who fed her.
It irked Alan to grant Mick such liberties with Emily’s body, but it was the only practical thing to do. He turned to Mick, who was enjoying one of the apples. “Strip—you’ll need to hold her in the water.”
“She’s your woman. You do it!” He looked toward the bubbling water with some disdain. Mick shared the sailor’s normal dislike of bathing. Silvestri never did understand that.
“I have to get back to keep Glacious diverted. Make certain clothing is sent, prepare for the two of you to dine! I don’t have time to see to Emily.” Damn, he hated admitting that to Mick. “Don’t be an idiot. It won’t hurt you to get wet!” Alan snorted. “I would have thought Jezebel cured you of this dislike of bathing.”
“That’s Captain Jezebel to you.” Mick set the apple core down with a sigh. “Fine. Her hand will start to bleed.”
“I’ll be sure to fetch a good wrap for it. The sulfur will sting, but it’s healing. Hurry, man! She’s ready!” He cradled Emily on his lap. “Where is the pendant I gave her? I asked her to never take it off. It might have kept her safe.”
“Probably in her pocket. She’s fingered something in there for days.” Mick made quick work of his clothing, took one step down into the water and grimaced. “Give her here.”
Reluctantly, Alan handed her over. Mick spoke softly into her ear, stepping deeper and deeper into the water. Alan looked away, taking up the ragged breeches and searching the pockets. He found the Kraken’s pendant and considered what would be best. He lifted Micks’ coat and slid it deep into one of his pockets.
Emily uttered a sharp cry and cursed.
He spoke, the pool to his back. “Make sure she puts the pendant on, Mick.” He hurried away.
CHAPTER 22
Fire! Her feet were dangling in hot lava! Have to get away from flames! Have to get away!
“Easy! You’re all right, Pawes! Pawes! Stop fighting me!”
Slowly, his voice got through. The pain in her feet faded. Warm—she was warm again.
Her head fell back, and her eyes opened. Above was only white, but she could smell sulfur…and steam? She blinked and felt a shoulder under her head. She turned her face and recognized Mick, felt his bare chest at her back.
“What the fuck?” She tried to move away from him, but his arms held her still and wouldn’t let her move away.
“Nope, wake up more first. I don’t know how deep this spring is, and don’t need you to drown. Relax. I’m going to ease your hand down into the water, and it’s going to hurt like hell.”
“What? Why?” Her head hurt, and suddenly her head was fine. Her hand! Shit! “Let me go!”
This time Mick released her. She stepped away, onto a slick rock under the water and slipped. She inhaled a mouthful of water before Mick hauled her out again. She came out facing him. “You’re naked!”
“Yes, it’s the most common way to bathe.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Your hand?”
“Hell.” She raised it to her eyes and winced. “What did I do to my hand?” A faint memory rose of a cutter and cold wood.
“Froze it to a tiller, then yanked it away. Sorry, Pawes. We’ll wrap it when you’re warmed up. And your feet?”
She blinked, wrapped one arm up around her bare breasts and lowered herself further into the steamy water. “Okay, they sting, but getting better. Mick, how did I get to a hot spring?” She looked everywhere but at him. “Where is here?”
Mick sighed. “Silvestri brought me. At least I think that was the plan. You weren’t supposed to accompany me. But Pawes….” He leaned forward, whispered, “We’re in danger in this place. It’s the birthplace of his curse. The bitch who tricked Silvestri fifty years ago has us too close for comfort. Alan has a plan. I can’t go into it, but follow our lead, savvy?”
“Alan is here?” She looked around. “Wait. I was on the ship…a cutter? I dreamed, a freaky cold nightmare.”
“Love, I think you were possessed. Now, you have to stay calm and you have to hold close every bit of anger, fear, anything! You give her any lever and she’ll use it. Got it?” He reached out and touched her head, drawing her closer. “Nothing. Blank slate. Wait, and you follow our lead!”
She nodded and Mick let her go. She turned away from him, gazed out across the pond, and slowly let the heat work its way into her bones.
Silvestri used her? Or had this woman who cursed him used her? Mick was supposed to be here, but not her. Because of the bitch in question? She lowered her head and thought. Her heart ached, too confused to make sense of it. Mick said to wait. Fine, she could do that.
It wasn’t long before she heard Mick leave the hot pool. He spoke to someone while she rubbed at her feet, her face, and finally her circulation returned to normal. They were surrounded by ice. How in the hell did a hot spring exist here? Her shoulders sagged. Mad, this was too insane to understand.
“Pawes, your clothing is here.”
She turned reluctantly toward his voice to see that a woman stood next to him, a pile of fur items in her arms.
“I can’t wear fur,” she objected.
“Why not?” He gestured to her. “Don’t be stupid. You have to wear something other than the rags you wore.” He lifted up her shirt, nearly transparent in the bright white light of the ice world. “You’ll freeze again.”
“Fuck.” She slowly climbed up the rocky steps, trying to keep some modesty, an arm across her breast, a hand to her pubes. She gave up after a moment, too hard to walk and be concerned about nudity. “Where do I dry?”
Mick, already dressed, gestured toward several hissing vents. “Hot air.” He bent toward one and went to work on his long hair. She could see the sense of it. Wet hair here would be dangerous. She gingerly stepped to the vent across from him and quickly did what she could to wipe any remaining water from her body, let the air do the rest. The woman with the fur stood, waiting.
Emily bent over to work on her hair and the woman moved in, set a fur piece around one of her legs and wrapped it securely. After the initial shock of the intrusion, Emily accepted her assistance. The fur felt nice…and her legs were feeling the cold. Once both legs were covered, a sleeveless piece that worked like a Diana Furstenberg dress came next. It fell well past her thighs. Her arms were taken care of, lastly her feet with the fur traveling all the way up to her calves. She supposed to guarantee no ice reached her feet. It was warm, and that was all she presently cared about.
Mick snickered.
“What?” Emily glared at him.
“You look like a shapeless bear.”
“Yeah, well, I bet I’m warmer than you are.”
“That may be true, but my coat works well enough.” He slid a hand into his pocket. A look of confusion crossed his face, but passed after a moment. Emily waited for him to share. Her helper finished and disappeared while Emily was looking for her shoes.
“Mick, where are my sandals?”
“Fell to pieces, Pawes. You were overdue a new pair of shoes.”
“Oh, damn.” She looked up when Mick held out his hand. “What now?”
He dropped the Kraken pendant in her hand. “Put it on. I think it’s going to help us.”
She gazed at the carved necklace a moment, nodded and slid it over her head. He reached over and tucked it underneath the fur.
“Now, follow my lead. Dangerous ground, capice?” He raised his eyebrows at her and wouldn’t release her gaze until she nodded.
“Now, our guide is up at the top of the stairs. Be polite.” He gestured at her to lead.
She paused. “Why are you trusting him? I thought you hated him?”
“Something he said made sense, luv. Suddenly a great many things make sense. Explanations will wait. Oh, eat little from her table.”
With a sigh, she climbed the steps, tired, but at least she was warm.
CHAPTER 23
Silvestri walked away from the steam pools with a weight of worry settling on his shoulders. She’d done it—she’d brought Emily here. At least Mick knew where he was, what Glacious was. Hours of talking over bottles of rum educated him enough to take care. Emily didn’t know. He needed to trust that Mick would tell her enough to keep her satisfied. And careful.
By the time the two joined the dinner table, the cold was growing inside him. It usually did when she prepared to pull the pain of the year before from him. He shuddered, trying not to anticipate that terrible glory. It never failed to heat him up to a near fever. An unholy sort of welcome that melted the ice away.
He almost loved her when she did it. And hated her moments later. For now, she toyed with him, pretending a simple sort of delight at the company. She’d known they were coming, but she didn’t know what he planned. He hoped.
When the door at the end of the great hall opened, he fought not to turn. He wanted to know she was walking, that her hand was bound, that she was warm and comfortable. If he betrayed any of that concern, Glacious would use it against him. Against Emily. But would Emily understand?
It didn’t matter; she must be kept safe. Hopefully, he could explain later. The words of Mama Lu played through his mind. You’ll know the right moment, the right thing ta do. Ya pay attention and accept opportunities. Follow instincts. The Old Monster gave you a vision. Follow it!
The dreams came two days after the Kraken’s touch. Visions of the palace crumbling, of bloody hands united and a great roar. He didn’t understand any of it, but he watched and waited.
“Dear Captain March! I see our fragile sailor has regained herself. What do I call you, dear?” Glacious played at being gracious.
Mick answered, interrupting Alan’s attempt to downplay Emily’s position. Alan said she worked the sails on the ship Mick sailed. But Mick overrode him. “This is Mrs. Pawes. The talented bartender of my lady’s ship, the Cursed Quill. She also crafts books of unique workmanship.”
“A bartender on a ship? I thought you sailors drank rum and only rum.” She laughed, and Alan again held back a grimace.
Emily spoke up, “Generally, that is what they drink, ma’am. On board. But when they go ashore for relaxation, I mix what I can from the local brews.” She did play the awkward sailor well, keeping her eyes downcast. A glance darted his way hidden under the unruly mop of her hair.
“Ma’am? I am the Lady Glacious, my dear.”
“Pardon me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to offend. Uh, Lady ma’am. Lady…I, uh, don’t often spend time with quality, ma’am.” She shook her head. “Lady…ma’am.”
Alan almost laughed when Glacious reacted with shock to Emily’s play at titles. He shot a glance at Mick, lips twitching also. A warmth grew in his heart. The possibility of having Mick as a friend again, and as a brother, gave him hope.
“You must pardon her, Lady Glacious. She is nothing but a simple woman, come to our ship with no home left to her. Captain Jezebel took her on and has made a sort of pet of her.” Mick set his arm around Emily’s shoulders and led her to a chair. “Sit and be quiet, all right, dear?”
“Okay, Captain March. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend. I mean….” Emily wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked slightly.
Excellent portrayal of a simple-minded woman. Alan relaxed slightly.
Glacious turned to him. “How do you know this stupid sailor?” The look on her face spoke volumes. She knew how well he knew Emily.
His belly twisted, heat growing above his groin.
“Oh, Captain Silv
estri often enjoys the company of sailors from the Quill. I think it’s his way of poking at Jezebel, who chose me over him some years ago,” Mick commented, taking a seat next to Emily.
Glacious tilted her head. “Truly? I didn’t know you pined for the captain of the Quill.”
“It was a long time ago,” he lied straight faced, and the burning eased.
She took a seat and he followed, relieved. Until he glanced across the table to see a tear trail down Emily’s face.
Mick took up the conversation, obviously attempting to keep Glacious’ attention away from Emily.
It worked for a short while.
***
She wouldn’t react. She couldn’t react, couldn’t let this monstrous woman know what she was feeling. Was any of that true? Alan wanted Jezebel? Well, it made sense. Jezebel was a younger, nubile woman. Her bright red hair, her figure…of course, they fought over Jezebel.
No one ever did battle over Emily Pawes. She blinked back tears, suddenly convinced none of his passion was real. No, it was all about striking back at Mick and Jezzie. She’d been used. He fucked her and won her to get to Mick. He knew Mick would react to one of Jezebel’s crew taking up with the enemy. Mick would be bound to take action, and she’d been the new one. The one susceptible to his charm. He’d been so cool about Mick. Now it made sense. Mick won Jezebel. Silvestri wanted vengeance! And now Mick was falling for the monster’s charm. Her heart pounded erratically. Too much to figure out.
Emily fought exhaustion until a sort of lassitude blossomed in her. She welcomed it; it was easier to bear than the hurt. Must be from being possessed. She snorted softly. The food before her was colorless, tasteless, and quite easy to pass on, despite the hollowness of her belly. Her hand ached, and after managing to take a bite or two of something crunchy, she set her hands in her lap. Her head hurt, but what was the sickness at her heart? It couldn’t be hurt. No, she’d be angry—he’d used her. Glacious wanted to use her, too, just to egg the men on. Then she’d be tossed aside. Bait no longer needed. Mick was dismissing her. Anger would be better; it would keep her from breaking to pieces in front of all of them. Three schemers, they deserved each other!