Elven sailors in pristine military uniforms rushed across the deck, moving at the command of a captain at the helm. Fascinated, Rosalia watched the nose of the ship veer left and approach at greater speed. It flew across the waves faster than any Saudonian ship, despite lacking an apparent engine and relying on the wind.
“Are they friendly?” the old captain asked.
“It’s my friend!”
A short while later, as the sun kissed the horizon and set the sea ablaze with streaks of golden fire, the elves reached the Noble Sword and dropped anchor. The crew were all a handsome and fit variety, skin tones ranging from fair and porcelain to toasted walnut, but Xavier stood out among them as different. His hair glittered like rainbow merged with shadows, and he towered at least a head taller than the largest of them, his broad shoulders more muscled compared to their lean physiques.
Seeing them all side by side, she wondered how anyone had ever confused him as one of their kind.
An elf slid a gangplank into place, connecting their portside bows, and then the captain strode over, a slim fellow with a regal posture, clothed in a long coat of white with numerous silver, green, and golden ribbons across his medal-decorated chest. The ocean breeze kicked up a few strands of the glorious mane of dark silver hair flowing over his shoulders.
“I am Captain Elurin of the Opal Destiny. Who’s in charge?”
When no one spoke up, Rosalia cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I am.”
The elf offered a hand, startling her with the benevolence in his charming smile. Instead of a brisk shake, he bowed and raised her knuckles to his lips. “Our mutual friend tells us that you and your people have suffered greatly while imprisoned in Enimura. Does anyone require medical attention?”
Rosalia nodded. “Many of my people were abused and beaten. There are a few fractured bones and some infected wounds.”
Elurin glanced over his shoulder and made an unfamiliar gesture to his crew. Two elves crossed over to the Noble Sword, both carrying bulging leather pouches. “Take them to your injured. Have your people eaten well?”
“We have stores and a working galley. The meals have been... decent.”
He inclined his head to her. “Then we will provide better. Any friend of Zaviriel is a friend of ours.”
Zaviriel? Her gaze darted to Xavier. He hadn’t moved from the other ship’s deck and watched the exchange with a neutral expression, features stony and unreadable.
“Now, I would be honored if you would join us aboard the Destiny. We’ll do our very best to accommodate the needs of your people during this trying time.”
“I shouldn’t leave them.”
“Nonsense. Several members of my crew will remain aboard to lend a helping hand. I’d like to hear more about the recent changes in Enimura that led to this revolt.”
He led the way onto the Opal Destiny and to the captain’s quarters—at least, what she suspected were the captain’s quarters. The polished wood floors were decorated with silk carpets while the glossy wooden walls shone beneath tapestries depicting colorful elven summers in pastel shades of gold, rose, teal, and lilac. The rich and earthy smell of a forest surrounded her all at once, setting her heart at ease even after the door shut behind them.
Yet she’d never visited a forest before in all of her life to recognize the smell, raised in a coastal desert town and surrounded by the sea, hot sand, whale oil, and salt. At least, she didn’t recall ever visiting one even as a child, despite the aroma tugging at her memories and stirring a sense of peace inside her.
They settled at a table large enough to seat six people or more. An emerald, gold, and silver runner spanned the length of it, accompanied by a tea service for four beside two large bowls of elvish fruits and vegetables.
Xavier studied her from across the table. “I already apprised Elurin of the circumstances surrounding our recent acquaintance to the best of my ability, but you’ll have to fill in any holes we haven’t discussed, as well as the details of your escape from Enimura’s harbor.”
Elurin served them both with the grace of a trained host from one of the Rosewater District’s fancy teahouses, though Rosalia suspected he would have put those ladies to shame. If Xavier hadn’t proven men could be truly beautiful, Elurin would have convinced her in his stead.
“All right. So, it began on the evening my thiefmaster called me to take this job.”
Deciding no detail was too private, she told the elf everything she’d shared with Xavier and more, including the way their client had pressed Hadrian to produce results. At the time, the buyer’s impatience hadn’t seemed too strange to her, but in hindsight it set off every alarm.
“I see. And of course, you stole it out from beneath this sleeping giant and made your getaway. However did you manage to give him the slip for so long?”
“Whale oil,” she murmured. “It’s a trick Mira and I favored, along with a few other burglars. The smell of it is often in the air in Enimura, so if you mix it with a bit of musk and shade dust, you smell like... the city itself and no hound or creature can track you.”
“Quite brilliant if it was able to fool a dragon.”
“It wouldn’t fool me again,” Xavier muttered.
One of the elvish healers popped in to report the progress among the injured thieves. Moments later, another crew member arrived with supper while Rosalia recounted their wild escape from Enimura, commandeering the Noble Sword, and their struggles to keep two dozen thieves from committing a mutiny.
Elurin barked out a hard laugh. He leaned back in his seat and crossed one ankle over his knee, appearing more relaxed by the moment. “Piracy. From what Juniae told me just now of your injured thieves, they wouldn’t have survived boarding the weakest, least prepared merchant ship.”
“Thankfully, a few of the guys aboard had the experience to deter them. And, uh, there’s two really good enforcers who would have messed them up if they tried, I think. So, that’s it. We’re here now, and we’re at the mercy of the elves.”
Elurin shook his head. “Anyone with common sense knows it’s impossible to remove all crime. That is why the Thieves Guild exists. Better to monitor it than to have them running wild with no rules whatsoever. When news reached us via Zaviriel of King Gregarus destroying the Enimuran chapter, our esteemed ruler chose to act in the best interest of preserving the balance. Ilyria will shelter your friends. We’ve already contacted Grandmaster Nemuria, and she’s agreed to accept anyone who wishes to continue the life in our lands—”
“That is kind of her.”
“—if they are able to follow her rules. She’s strict, so time will only tell if your friends regret our meddling.”
“Trust me. They won’t. Anything is better than what was planned for them on Heridia.”
Xavier rose from his seat. “We shouldn’t keep Elurin away from his duties. I’m sure he has a lot of captaining and other things to do.”
“Actually, I was enjoying the conversation and willing to leave the welfare of the Destiny in my lieutenant’s capable hands for a while longer.”
Xavier raised a brow. “Any excuse to skive off from a little work, eh?”
Rosalia’s brows popped up as she observed the friendly banter between the two men. They were grinning, but something about Xavier’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Forced.
“What good is there in having a title like captain if I don’t enjoy delegating a few tasks every now and then?”
“Just the same. I’m sure she’s exhausted after three days of babysitting her peers. C’mon. I’ll let you bunk with me.”
Rosalia considered her hammock in the berth. “Maybe I’d rather go back to the Sword. My friends are there, and everyone is probably a little nervous with elves crawling all over and taking charge.”
“I’ll head over and have a word with them,” Elurin volunteered. He led them to the cabin door. “While the greater news is yours to share, I’d like to meet this Alberto and Sergio if they’re the ones respon
sible for sailing that ungainly thing to us with a mere skeleton crew of untrained men. Perhaps there’s a place for them among the Ilyrian Foreign Armada.”
Rosalia tried to imagine either man in a legitimate profession, captaining their own ship. “Please do. After what they’ve been through, one or both of them may be prepared for a new life that doesn’t risk their necks or their hands on the chopping blocks.”
“Excellent.” Elurin bowed to her. “It has been my honor to make your acquaintance, Rosalia. Enjoy your time aboard my ship and never hesitate to come to me should you encounter any troubles. I’m easy to find.”
After they parted ways, Xavier led her down below one level and opened a door to a small stateroom with a bed against one wall draped in sage green sheets, two oversized pillows at the head.
The moment he shut the door behind them, Rosalia shot Xavier a look. “How did you pull this off?”
“I told you, I have friends in high places.”
Rosalia resisted the itch on her palms, a dire urge to slap the smug expression off his handsome face. Damn him for looking so attractive and arrogant. And bless him for being there when they needed him, even if he did have ulterior motives like using her to regain the mirror. “I don’t mean that,” she murmured, voice barely a whisper. “I mean, I know from experience of riding on your back that dragons can fly swiftly, but how did you get to Ilyria in time to have a ship meet us at sea?”
“Another secret of the hoard.” When she crossed her arms, he added, “I’ll show you once we’re home.”
Home? She didn’t get to question it, because he turned down the bed and gestured with a palm. “You must be tired.”
“I am, but I have a suitable bed on the Sword, Xavier. Or should I call you... Zaviriel?”
He grimaced. “Please don’t.”
“Going to tell me the story behind that one?”
“Only if you take a rest. I can’t imagine the past few days were easy wrangling a couple dozen thieves into makeshift sailors. You look tired, and for the job we have to do, tired won’t be enough.”
“I am tired.”
“Then take a rest and let Elurin’s crew handle it. It’s smooth sailing from here on out, literally and figuratively.”
Giving in to his polite demands, Rosalia settled on the edge of the bed. It shifted beneath her hands, and the moment she stretched out along it, all the energy fled her tired limbs until it felt like her bones had melted into water.
He hadn’t been lying about the comfort of an elven bed. The ones in his hoard were Saudonian by design and satisfying, but the mattress in his cabin may as well have been fashioned from clouds and magic, the physical embodiment of affluence. A quiet moan of relief escaped her before she could swallow it back. Too much time had passed since she’d been able to sleep without worries or pressing concerns weighing down on her. First, she’d been taken prisoner and sent to her death, and then it’d been days of worry for her fellow thieves and mourning for the murdered.
“I thought you’d feel that way.”
Damn his smug face. “You can have your bed back in a moment.”
“I’m fine bunking down on the floor for a while if it means you’ll be in top form again.”
Rosalia sighed. “You won’t bunk down on the floor. I’m only resting my eyes. Besides... there’s... enough room for... for two. Gods, this bed.”
A few moments of silence passed, and suddenly her eyes were opening to a dim cabin lit only by moonlight and a single pale amber stone glowing in the distant upper corner of the cabin beside the door. The bedside lantern on the table had been extinguished, and there was silence all around except for the gentle lap of water against the hull. She’d been swaddled within a fine elven blanket that smelled like sunshine, her leggings and leather shirt removed, leaving her in only a thin cotton chemise and her undergarments.
And then there was a warm man behind her, the heat of him searing across her back through a layer of wool. That persistent aroma of smoke and forest surrounded her in a haze, enveloping her senses.
She shifted. “Xavier?”
He stirred. “Huh?”
“Just making sure it was you,” she lied lamely. Who else would it be?
A moment of silence passed, the awkward lull of a few heartbeats. “Apologies. I meant to lay down for a moment, and I suppose the same exhaustion overcame me as well.” He shifted, as if preparing to rise.
“No. No, it’s fine. It’s your bed after all, and there is plenty of room for two.”
Although he hadn’t slid beneath the sheets and what had to be the finest jasmora wool blanket she’d ever touched even during her nights of second-story work in Enimura, he was close enough for the gesture of lying beside her to feel personal. He looked uncomfortable there, and if his heat wasn’t radiating through the short distance between them, she would have thought him to be chilly.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s only a bed, and you can’t be comfortable sleeping on all of this jasmora. It’s designed to be on top of you.”
Rosalia twisted around to face him and tugged the sheets until Xavier repositioned, allowing her to drag both layers over his body. Then they were beneath it together, trapping that lovely smell of man and dragon in close quarters. It had become something of an addiction in the recent days of their acquaintance.
She watched the rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket, his dark hair an ink black spill over the linen pillowcase. Guests aboard elven ships slept in luxury, leading her to wonder if the officers’ quarters were just as fine, if not better?
And then he moved nearer, breeching the narrow strip of no-man’s-land until there was no space between them. Her pulse galloped in her chest, because she couldn’t imagine anything but what it would be like if there weren’t so many clothes separating them too.
20
LETTING GO
THOSE THREE DAYS of separation had been maddening, Xavier spending all the while wondering if Rosalia was safe and sound. From the moment he saw her aboard the Noble Sword, the wind tossing her brown hair and the evening sun setting her features aglow with golden warmth, he’d wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms.
He’d wanted to kiss her, wanted to promise to never part from her again.
For three days, he’d paced the deck of the Opal Destiny while Elurin poked holes through his story and made fun of his claims that his and Rosalia’s relationship was merely platonic, a means to an end to recover the Eyeglass.
Platonic relationship indeed.
So platonic she dominated his thoughts when they were apart, and the phantom of her scent hung in the air so heavy he thought he’d smelled hints of smoke and desert while standing in the middle of the damned open sea.
She didn’t resist the arm he slid around her middle beneath the blankets, or that he drew her closer against him and basked in the sweet smell of her hair. Her breaths quickened.
“What are you doing?”
“You shivered,” he said.
Xavier waited for her to throw his arm away. She didn’t. Instead, she pressed nearer and turned her face against his throat just beneath his chin. Her thumb skimmed his cheek and swept over his jawline, gliding over the dark stubble emerging since long before he left for the elven lands. He hadn’t used a razor since Rosalia came into his home, not that it was often needed, his hair growth proportionate to his slow aging.
“I didn’t think elves grew beards.”
“You know that I’m not an elf.”
“Mm. You said technically you’re not an elf, you’re a weredragon. Werewolves are men or elves who turn into wolves, so I assume you’re an elf who turns into a dragon.”
He grunted.
“Or do all weredragons have pointed ears?” Her finger trailed up to his ear and slid over the tapered tip. He suppressed a shiver.
“Suddenly curious about my kind?”
“Very. You speak little of them.” She leaned back and peered at him in the dim li
ght, although he could see her without suffering any loss in vision. Her eyes danced with warmth and humor, a hint of mischief visible in her smile. “Anyway, I think I prefer you like this. The scruffiness looks good on you.” She caressed again, rubbing the pad of her thumb back and forth, teasing the same ear before her touch returned to his face.
Xavier couldn’t wait another moment. Couldn’t delay. Claiming her mouth became his only priority in that moment. So he did.
The second their lips met, a spark traveled through him, a jolt of lightning in the chest sizzling down every nerve ending. She tasted like light and life and sunlight, and so many sweet things he hadn’t thought one kiss could convey, her mouth suffusing his taste buds with a flavor he’d compare to heaven.
At first, she made a noise of surprise, but then her fingers curled against his shoulder, the other hand buried in his hair and anchoring him in place. Her lips parted to him, eager and feverish, a sweep of her tongue exploring his mouth with mounting enthusiasm.
He kissed her again, over and over, each time as satisfying as the last, even as his mind drifted to a dozen other places he’d prefer to kiss next.
It was the kiss he’d wanted that night in the gardens, the kiss he’d needed after rescuing her from a wagon destined for her execution, a kiss he’d craved since the first moment she emerged from his spare bedroom covered head to toe in silk.
And he ended it there, drawing away, because when he made love to her, he wanted the moment to be sheer perfection. Her eyes remained lidded, features drowsy despite the satisfied smile on her face.
“About time,” she murmured.
“Just warming up.”
“Mm... I like your idea of a warmup then.” Her hand smoothed across his chest, absently petting and stroking the contours of his pectoral muscles. “Thank you, by the way. I didn’t get much of a chance to say it earlier, but thank you for bringing the elves to us.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, are you going to tell me why you looked mad enough to spit fire earlier?”
“I did not.”
All That Glitters: a Fantasy Romance (Daughter of Fortune Book 1) Page 17