“Then I look forward to my trial once your debt is paid. For now, listen and obey.”
Something passed over Niya’s green gaze but was gone before he could identify it. “Aye, aye, Captain.” She gave him a mocking salute. “Now, what exactly is it you want me to do?”
“Cebba is a regular patron here. Comes for private entertainment the last day of every week. You are to trance her with your dance. She needs to be made pliable to give up information.”
“Does she carry the lost gods’ gifts?”
He shook his head. “Her ruthlessness lies in other areas. You will be able to spell her easily.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered at your confidence or appalled at your willingness to put me in harm’s way.”
“And here I thought you were always the harm in anyone’s way.”
“Such flattery tonight.” Niya’s eyes grew calculating. “You must really want whatever it is you seek.”
You have no idea, thought Alōs as he retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket. “These are the words I need spoken to her, the question I need her to answer.”
“‘Where did your biggest red stone go?’” Niya read the note before looking back up at him. “A pirate hunting treasure? How cliché.”
“Yes, we are quite the boring lot.”
She glanced at the note again. “It’s quite vague, you know. Are you sure this will get you the right answer?”
“It will.” Alōs snatched the slip of paper from her fingers and slowly fed it to a nearby candle on her dressing table. The flame jumped higher, hungrily devouring the note to ash. “I’ll leave how to go about getting it up to you. You may take your time if you’d like, but I have a feeling your dance will be over rather quickly.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because, my fire dancer”—Alōs gave her a lazy grin as he stood—“Cebba Dagrün has a terrible weakness for redheads.”
Leaving Niya to finish getting ready, Alōs found his way into one of the many hidden alcoves at the backs of the private entertainment rooms. Management used these spaces to keep an eye on their employees, or for a pretty price, a voyeur could occupy one of them for a few sand falls. Tonight, Alōs was to be that voyeur.
Peeking through the tiny hole in the wall, Alōs took in the dim circular room beyond. It was lined with low plush couches draped in black velvet. Small glass lanterns hung from the ceiling and set a warm glow to the opulent red patterned wallpaper.
The door opened, and a waiter ushered in a tall woman with braided dark hair pulled to one side. She wore tight black trousers, a gleaming sword at either hip, and a richly woven purple traveling coat over a white, tucked-in tunic. Alōs’s magic stirred in his veins along with his anticipation as he studied the two parallel scars that ran from her hairline to either side of her chin. They were red and angry against her pale skin, newly made. He was not surprised. Cebba’s line of work, their line of work, placed all sorts of undesired opponents in their path.
Cebba took the bottle of spirits from the chilled bucket the waiter brought in and poured two glasses. She settled into the center couch, propping her booted foot over her other knee, before tipping her head back and emptying one of the glasses. Music from the upstairs bar poured into the room through the ceiling vents, stirring a heady, muffled rhythm.
Alōs stood waiting.
He and Cebba were not friends, but they were not enemies either. They had an understanding. Each was in the trade of acquiring and disposing of valuables and favors. Still, what he’d said to Niya was true: Cebba must not know what he sought. It was dangerous for any in their line of work to know what another desired—it often made others desire it too. The price tag would only go up from want, rather than need, and reacquiring this item was no game he would risk playing. The only one of his crew who knew what they were truly after was Kintra, and her loyalty to him ran deep.
The door opened again, and Niya entered. A black shawl was pinned into her red hair, obscuring the bottom half of her face, and her long green silk robe was cinched at her waist, covering what hid beneath. Her petite feet were bare.
Alōs took in a steadying breath as he watched Cebba’s appraising eyes run over Niya, a disquieted sensation stirring in his gut. The trader knocked back her second glass.
Niya flowed over to the bottle of spirits and in a fluid movement had another flute refilled in Cebba’s hands.
Cebba grinned, a lioness pleased.
Words were exchanged, too low for Alōs to hear, but in the next breath, Niya stood in the center of the room and began to sway. Her hips moved the sheer material of her wrap, exposing one smooth, pale leg. Her arms ran over her curves, sensual, grabbing bits of the material as she explored her hills and valleys. Though Alōs was not in the room, he could practically feel the magic flooding from Niya’s core as her red haze of magic began to fill the space. He had been in her presence enough times when she danced to know the effects, had felt the liquid heat of her power caress his skin, working to make him pliable to her will. If his own magic didn’t sit like dewdrops of iced armor around his body, he would be putty in her hands, like all who didn’t possess the lost gods’ gifts. Like Cebba. The poor bastard.
The trader’s eyes were already beginning to glaze over.
Niya moved faster to the beat echoing through the walls, and in the next breath her robe fell in a puddle at her feet.
A hiss filled Alōs’s ears, and he realized with an uncomfortable twist that it was his own breath.
Niya exposed a body full of softness and curves, of exploring lengths and voluptuous hills. All of it was artfully disguised to tease. The emerald green of her corset pushed her full breasts to near bursting, and her laced stockings contrasted deliciously with her exposed arms, thighs, and shoulders. Waves of her scarlet mane spun and glimmered with each of her twirls and sways, a flame flickering in the breeze.
While Alōs had seen Niya dance many times, it was never while revealing so much . . . skin. And though they had slept together, him touching her completely bare, stroking his hands over her smooth dips and valleys, seeing her like this affected him. Whenever she danced, it affected him. Even with his magic barrier, her moves awoke prickles of heat inside his chest.
Alōs suddenly felt too hot in his clothes; the alcove where he stood was too small. His breaths were coming out fast and uneven. Here was her danger, her temptation for all to let loose their control, give in to their desire. But the trick, he knew, lay in the after. He had never let it, her, affect him after.
Picking up her silk wrap, Niya spun it in the air, her magic catching it and splitting it into two, three, four strands, the room becoming a tangle of material, movement, and desire.
Alōs’s heart thudded as Niya drew closer to Cebba, who sat stunned on the couch, a bit of drool slipping from her lips. Niya was a viper entrancing its master, winding its tail around and around until it gave a snap, a bite.
She rubbed her corseted chest along Cebba’s, curled her hips forward and back as her robe draped over them in a moving wave. Niya drew close to Cebba’s ear, parted the shawl covering her mouth, and licked.
Cebba collapsed into a boneless mass under her.
Niya pulled away. A pleased gleam danced in her eyes as she turned to stare exactly where Alōs was spying from.
Their eyes locked, and she winked.
Alōs snapped back from the peephole, an unwanted flutter in his chest. Glancing down, he saw his hands were balled into fists. He shook them out.
None of that, he ordered silently.
He quickly pushed whatever was wriggling for freedom in his chest back below the surface, smothering it until he no longer felt movement. He filled his mind with visions of pain and suffering, thought of all the people he had sent to the Fade, some deserving, most not. He thought of those he had left hurt and broken, disappointed, the woman in the next room included. He thought of every horrible, despicable thing to ice over his thawing veins. He refroze it all. Made his b
ody once more into a tundra, for nothing could live in ice. Not even regret.
When he felt like himself again, in control again, Alōs pushed back his shoulders and strode from the viewing room. Those he passed in the narrow hall moved out of his way as he left the entertainment suites. He entered back into the lower lounge and headed straight for an empty booth at the back, where only dim lighting shone.
Kintra slid into the seat opposite him, passing him a glass of whiskey.
He took it back in one swallow.
Kintra raised her brows. “Something go wrong?”
“It’s all going perfectly.” He signaled a passing waiter for a refill.
“Then why do you look like you’d like to slit someone’s throat?”
“Because I’d always like to do that.”
His quartermaster eyed him skeptically but remained quiet. She was smart enough to know when to push and when to keep silent. Which Alōs was thankful for. He was in no mood for explanations.
Especially when there was nothing to explain.
His sour mood was due to how long they’d been at sea. His energy was spun too tight. And the lost gods knew he hadn’t had any sort of release in a very, very long while. Despite all he still had to plan, ensure, Alōs decided he needed to visit a pleasure house, tonight. It had been some time since he had called upon Eldana and Alcin. He hadn’t seen either of them the last time he’d docked in Barter Bay. He would fix that. They always knew how to relax him, and he enjoyed pleasuring them to the point where they felt more like the client than he did.
Yes, he thought, that will set my thoughts right.
Alōs had just finished his second whiskey when Niya plunked down beside him, dressed again in her regular clothes, daggers strapped to her hips. The only things that spoke of her time performing were the red flush of her cheeks and her mischievous grin as her gaze met his.
Alōs frowned, wishing she had sat beside Kintra instead. The warmth of her magic slid over him, and he tensed before pushing out his own gifts to sit along his skin, cool armor.
“Well?” Alōs asked.
She raised a delicate brow at his curt tone. “I’m fine, thanks,” she said. “No one murdered me or took advantage.” She poured herself a drink from the bottle that rested on their table. “But I guess you would have seen that, wouldn’t you?” Her grin grew before she took a sip from her glass.
Alōs waited, unamused.
Niya rolled her eyes before nodding questioningly toward Kintra across from them. “Shouldn’t she leave first?”
“She’s good,” explained Alōs.
“Interesting,” she mused, reassessing the quartermaster.
“What did you find out, Niya?” Alōs urged once more, his patience more than used up this night.
“What you seek is in the Valley of Giants.”
“By the Fade,” hissed Alōs as he drew his brows together. “Are you sure?”
The valley was a month at sea away, at least. And that was only the first annoyance of this destination.
“Yes, considering that was practically the only thing Cebba was able to mumble over and over by the time I was done with her.”
“Well, sticks.” Kintra folded her arms over her chest.
“Is that not good?” asked Niya.
“It’s fine,” ground out Alōs, his mind tumbling with exactly what this information meant. Mainly that his visit with Eldana and Alcin would have to be postponed. Damn the lost gods. He had too much now to figure out if they were to set sail tomorrow.
“Fine?” Kintra snorted, giving Alōs a knowing look.
“What?” Niya glanced between them. “What is it?”
“Let’s just say”—Kintra waved over a waiter for another bottle—“the crew will not be pleased.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Niya should not have had that last drink. But who was she to say no when one of her crewmates offered to buy her one, or three? Cradling her chin in her hand, Niya leaned on the table in front of her, her body warm and her head buzzing as the bar around her appeared to sway.
Of course, that could have been because the low-lit tavern she had followed the Crying Queen’s pirates to floated on the fringes of Barter Bay.
“And then she jumped onto his shoulders and snapped his neck with her legs,” said Green Pea beside Niya as he slapped her on the back, causing her to slip from her perch on her hand. She righted herself before her face hit the table. “With her legs!” he repeated.
The pirates around her laughed, spilling some of their drinks in the process.
Niya smiled along with them. These pirates are fun, she thought groggily.
It appeared Burlz had not been the most popular among them.
And while Niya still did not regret one bit of her actions that night, she’d be lying if she said she were not relieved that most of the crew seemed almost grateful that she had done what most of them had wanted to do for some time now.
“Tell the part again of when she accused him of not having a prick,” said Boman across from her. “That’s my favorite part.”
“All right, you lowlifes,” said Saffi as she leaned against a nearby wooden column. “I think we’ve stomped over Burlz’s watery grave enough. Let’s move on to different entertainment, shall we?”
“I’ve got dice,” said Felix, a reedy kid whom Niya had probably heard speak three times since coming aboard the Queen.
“Oh, then let’s play Roll, Punch, Spit!” suggested Bree, snapping up the die from Felix’s palm.
While Niya loved a good dice game, she needed some air. Pushing up from the table, she squeezed her way out of the group and onto the wraparound deck.
She took a deep breath in as she gripped the cool railing. The fresh air sobered her slightly, her magic not feeling as sluggish in her veins. An expanse of visiting ships stretched out before her in the dark waters; yellow lanterns glowed along their distant decks where they sat anchored for the night, a blanket of stars salting the sky overhead.
She liked Barter Bay.
It reminded her a lot of the Thief Kingdom. The hodgepodge of citizens, the array of vice and trade. Even while dancing tonight, though she hadn’t enjoyed the fact it had been ordered by Alōs, Niya had reveled in slipping back into a performance. Her magic had sighed, content, as Niya moved and flexed her powers, which had quite honestly felt trapped inside her the past week.
Cebba had been too easy a target in the end, for Niya had barely begun when the tradeswoman was nearly too far gone from her spell to pry information from.
Where did your biggest red stone go?
Niya’s pulse quickened as she replayed the question, just as when she’d first read it on the slip of paper Alōs had handed to her. Here was one of his secrets she was determined to learn.
I sense he needs something important, something only being able to sail more freely with his bounty dropped could get him.
Arabessa’s last words to her floated forward.
Yes, thought Niya, anticipation building. It was growing obvious that what he sought was very important indeed. But important for what? Or perhaps the better question was, For whom?
She had taken note that Alōs no longer wore his pinkie ring when he had met her at Fate’s Falls.
Was this connected? Or merely a coincidence?
Niya was desperate to find out.
Leverage, her magic purred within her.
Yes, leverage was what she was after. Leverage helped everyone, and Niya would gladly take any help if it could get her out of her binding bet faster. How, exactly, she could not yet say, but when the moment presented itself, she was sure she’d know.
“Tired of our company tonight?” asked Saffi as she came to stand beside Niya along the covered deck.
The master gunner’s brown skin was warm under the swaying lanterns hanging above them, her gray braids shifting forward as she leaned on the railing.
“Needed a bit of air,” explained Niya.
Saffi nodded. �
��Yes, that lot can really stink up a room.”
Niya smiled before a thought sobered her. “I am sorry to have caused you to lose some of your team,” she said.
Niya believed Burlz had deserved his death, of course, but she was not without feeling for how this might affect Saffi’s ability to protect the ship. The master gunner was an exacting boss, but she was also fair, and Niya found herself admiring the woman.
“It’s a bit of an annoyance, but a long time coming, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?”
She glanced over at Niya. “Prik and Burlz were as much of a liability as they were assets. Those sorts of pirates never last long on any ship.”
Saffi’s response prickled uncomfortably along Niya’s skin. Perhaps because she believed the same could be said of her. She had not exactly been the most . . . cooperative in all her duties the past weeks.
She blamed Alōs, of course. When it came to that man, she couldn’t help but fight. It was a reflex too hardened in her muscles to change. Alōs meant danger; Alōs meant nothing could be trusted.
“They were rather awful,” Niya agreed with Saffi.
“They were right swine,” said Saffi before taking a sip from her mug. “And in my opinion, the way I’ve seen Burlz treat women, he deserved more than his neck being snapped. So I don’t blame you for putting him down. And don’t even get me started on Prik. Fool,” she spat. “Thinking he could touch the Cax Island bounty before the rest of us. I would have cut off his head myself if the captain hadn’t.”
Niya raised her brows. She knew the crew was ruthless, but she had never heard the master gunner speak so mercilessly about any on board. The way she had acted around Burlz and Prik certainly hadn’t given away her loathing for them.
Saffi caught Niya’s surprised expression. “I’ve shocked you, have I?” She grinned. “We all don’t get along like we might seem, Red,” she explained. “But it’s not my place to make trouble aboard the ship. I’m here to do my job like the rest of us.”
“But surely if more of you had issues with Burlz and Prik, you could’ve said something to the captain.”
Dance of a Burning Sea Page 15