Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  Alōs looked to the Prism Stone, glowing red and strong, feeling far away from a moment that was most assuredly meant to be a triumphant one.

  The item he had stolen burned euphoric at being back where it belonged.

  Was it truly done?

  Could he finally stop running to make up for his past?

  At the thought, Alōs’s wrist began to burn. He did not look down at what he knew he would no longer find: his binding bet.

  Done. It was all done.

  Despite the release he knew he should feel, the relief, Alōs’s chest remained tight.

  There was something taken still left to return.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  It was night, but no one in Esrom slept.

  Within the palace, Niya stood by the open window of her guest room, the kingdom alive with uproarious celebration below. Lanterns lit the streets like firebugs, casting warmth over the dancing citizens as flutes and drumbeats echoed in the air.

  Word of the Prism Stone’s return had spread like shooting stars across the islands, along with the truth of why the Betrayal Prince had stolen it—to save his dying brother. A strategic political move by the king and his council, no doubt, now that everything was back in order.

  The citizens of Esrom were hungry for a bout of good news after such a long succession of sorrow within the royal family. They were quick to forgive the elder prince’s sins.

  It appeared Alōs was to get all he desired.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Niya held in a chill that filtered through the window.

  She was still in her robe, her outfit for tonight untouched on her bed. She was meant to dress and join the party, her pirates somewhere among the merry crowds.

  Although, Niya thought, frowning, she supposed they were no longer her pirates, now that she was free of her binding bet to their captain.

  Her chest grew heavy as she peered down at her wrist.

  Empty.

  Pale.

  No trace of the mark that had once bound her tightly to a ship, its captive turned crew.

  She was free.

  Then why did this not leave her elated?

  Because, a voice whispered, you have found another sort of freedom aboard the Crying Queen.

  With an uncomfortable twist, Niya let this thought sink in, knowing the truth in it. Though she loved her family and her role with the Mousai, she had found she was able to test and explore new corners of her strengths and weaknesses with these pirates. She had fought to sail through storms, worked side by side under countless days of heat and sailing, survived the wrath of a ship full of angry crew, and lived through pain and homesickness she’d thought might break her. Aboard the ship they had their own rules, unbound by queens or kings, sisters or brothers, cities or kingdoms, but created from what kept them alive as they sailed toward the endless sea’s horizon. Then there was the captain, Alōs, who welcomed her blaze of heat as he met it head-on with his cool. Alōs, whom she’d believed was her worst adversary, had ended up being a mirror to her endless possibilities.

  But it was all over now.

  Tomorrow they would sail topside, her final leg aboard the Crying Queen before they returned her to Jabari. Where she would resume her life, her duties.

  A knock sounded at her door, and before she even called for them to enter, with a flutter in her chest, she knew who it would be.

  “It appears I am destined to always find you indisposed,” said Alōs as he drank in her robed form from where he stood silhouetted by the light cast from the hall behind him.

  “Or perhaps there is never a good time for us to be alone.” She turned fully toward him, a buzz of treacherous anticipation awakening. She had been avoiding him since they’d arrived in Esrom, not that it had been hard to do. Alōs had been ensconced by his brother and people, always surrounded. Still, she knew, despite how she might try to twirl from his grasp, he would eventually find her. He always did.

  And perhaps because of that, she decided to finally stand still. To face their parting head-on and bear the consequences later. As she had learned to in the past.

  “Interesting theory,” he mused. Closing the door behind him, he approached slowly. “How do you suppose we should test it?”

  Niya momentarily closed her eyes. “Alōs . . . ,” she began.

  “Yes?” His voice was a challenge as he stopped beside the roaring fire. His shadow stretched toward her over the plush carpet. Still a distance away, and she could feel his delicate touch of cool. Say what is on your mind, fire dancer, his gaze prodded.

  “What brought you to my room?” asked Niya instead.

  A flash of disappointment before his reply: “The crew were wondering why you were not celebrating with them. I came to find answers.”

  “Any of your pirates would have done that for you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they would have if I had asked.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He gave her a look then, as if to say, You and I both know why.

  “Niya,” he said as he stepped closer, until he was directly in front of her, his glowing turquoise eyes taking her in, his features a study in beautiful angles. Niya’s belly twisted with desire as she inhaled his scent: sea and midnight orchids. “We should talk.”

  Dread filled her. “Talking is far too overrated.”

  A small smile on his lips. “Normally I would agree, but presently I think we have something to discuss.”

  She turned back to the window, stared out into the night lit by celebration.

  “What is there to discuss? It’s over,” said Niya. “Esrom is saved, and I have paid my debt to you.”

  “And this upsets you?” His breath was warm along her shoulder.

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “No.” Yes.

  “Then what troubles you?”

  Tomorrow, she answered silently as she slipped away from his crowding form, moving toward her bed. She ran fingers over the silk wrap dress that had been laid out for her.

  A roar of a group’s laughter filtered up into her room from the streets below, the joyous beat of a new melody being spun into the air.

  “Esrom is happy tonight,” said Niya, still not looking at him as she changed the subject.

  “They will be celebrating for many days,” agreed Alōs. “My brother has decreed today a new holiday.”

  She smiled at that. “I’m glad the king has found happiness. The lost gods know he has had a hard start in life. You both have.”

  Niya could feel Alōs studying her from where he had remained by the window, could feel the desire in his energy to move toward her, reach out and touch her. Again.

  And by the Fade, how badly she wanted that, too, which was exactly why she was fighting it. She was terrified of this passion she felt for him. Passion greater than anything she had known before. It surpassed her old anger, her need for revenge. It soared higher and gripped her harder than any performance she had danced. Her sisters always said she burned hot, and it appeared it was true even in love.

  Love.

  Was that what she was feeling? A surge of panic overtook her.

  “My brother wants to meet you,” said Alōs, his words bringing her back with a jolt. “Officially this time.”

  “Me?” Niya spun to regard him. “Why?”

  “Perhaps to apologize for throwing you into our dungeons.”

  “As I recall,” she said, “that happened because you called me a spy.”

  He lifted a brow. “And are you not?”

  “Not always.”

  “Were you not spying on me that night?” Alōs approached her carefully, as though trying not to scare away a wild thing.

  “I was following you, not spying on you.”

  “Ah, I see. Thank you for clearing that up.”

  “You know”—Niya frowned, watching him draw nearer—“you can be quite annoying.”

  Alōs grinned as though the insult were a compliment as he stood before her once more. Tentatively he lifte
d a hand to brush loose strands of her hair behind her ear. Niya remained perfectly still, the gentle caress sending shivers all the way to her toes. “Niya,” he began softly, “my brother wants to meet you because I told him how you helped me find the pieces of the Prism Stone. He wants to meet you because I told him how important you are. To me.”

  His words penetrated through her, restarting her heart so it would no longer beat the same.

  Niya stood breathless.

  When she had first been brought aboard the Crying Queen, she had been so clear in her task: survive however long it took to be free once more.

  But then she had warmed to the pirates, even found friendships among them. Her eyes had been opened to a new kind of adventure, and that included this man.

  Alōs was Niya’s ultimate foolishness. She had given him another chance to stand in the center of her life. And he’d proved worthy by choosing instead to stand at her side. Alōs had filled Niya’s mind with words of their strength together, not animosity. Even shown her that he believed her life more important than his.

  What was Niya to do with all that?

  She no longer recognized her next move.

  Especially when her only path was paved for her to return home.

  “Stay,” said Alōs. “As part of the Crying Queen.”

  Niya blinked, his words rocking her back a step.

  “What?”

  “Stay with me, Niya. We do not have to sail you back to Jabari tomorrow.”

  She shook her head, brows drawn together. “You know that’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, for starters, your crew would not take kindly to you suddenly playing favorites. For if I were to stay, I can assure you, I would not be sleeping in the hold smashed between those flatulent pirates.”

  “Of course not.” His gaze darkened. “You’d be warming my bed.”

  “Alōs—”

  “My crew would take kindly to whatever makes their captain happy, Niya.”

  “I”—Niya faltered—“I make you happy?”

  “You make me many things, fire dancer. Happy is merely one.”

  Niya’s breathing felt ragged along with her racing pulse. “You know why I cannot stay, Alōs. It’s for the same reason you must always go. Different lives and responsibilities call for us to return. You have the sea, the Crying Queen, and your pirates. I have my duties to the Thief King and my family. Our paths may move around one another but can never be long beside each other.”

  A crease pinched between Alōs’s brows, shadows falling across his features.

  “And I am not saying this to be cruel,” she went on, even as the pain wedged itself deeper into her chest. “We both know I speak true.”

  “Yes,” he said after a moment. “But I still had to ask.”

  Her throat felt tight.

  There, laid out before them, the finality of what had needed to be spoken. The reality of tomorrow.

  “I need to get dressed.” She tried to turn from him, but Alōs stopped her.

  “Or you do not.”

  A flutter of nerves as she watched his eyes drop to her lips. “I don’t?”

  Alōs shook his head. “You’re free now, remember? You can do whatever you want.”

  “You are also free,” said Niya. “Free of the burden of me bound to you.”

  “No,” said Alōs, his gaze consuming her, “even when you’re gone, fire dancer, I will never be free of you.” Alōs was her eclipse as he pulled her into his shadows and kissed her then. Niya fell into the darkness willingly, a whimper escaping her as his hands gathered her close, kneading along her back, over her hips.

  Alōs claimed her mouth with a desperation Niya returned. She ran fingers through his hair as he lifted her and settled them atop her bed. His weight was delicious, rocking where she ached for him most. Her gown spread beneath them was forgotten as Alōs ran powerful hands up her thigh, over her waist, before parting her robe. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, and Niya groaned, arching her back.

  Niya had been a fool to think she could have ever denied herself this man tonight. She couldn’t, when she knew how perfectly they fit pressed against one another, their magic a swirling of opposite sensations, ones they each were ravenous to pull inside like their next breaths.

  The hostile valley that had once existed between them had been blown apart and rebuilt. The foundation new, powerful. As powerful as each of them, which made it close to impenetrable.

  “Niya,” Alōs rumbled as he kissed his way up her neck, “I will never have enough of you.”

  “Tonight,” said Niya, “we must each find our fills tonight.”

  “An impossible task,” said Alōs. “My hunger for you is bottomless.”

  “Then you must do your best to fill me.”

  Alōs’s grin was wicked. “With pleasure.” He gathered her into his arms and took her mouth so no other words could be spoken.

  They told each other what they needed with tugs and pulls, with fingers digging into skin and groans between thrusts.

  Niya took Alōs into her world of movement, of vibrating sensations that racked each of their bodies with euphoria, only to be whipped back into another impossible hunger of desire. She rode him, staring deeply into the burning gaze of the pirate lord, once a prince and now a man she loved, and told him the words she could not speak out loud, could not share, for fear that her duty would then shift and she would find it impossible to leave him.

  Yet even though she trapped the words inside, she could tell Alōs understood what she held back, for he pulled her down toward him and kissed her with a new sense of urgency. “Yes, fire dancer.” His voice rumbled in a husky whisper against her lips. “Me too.” He flipped her beneath him, spreading her wide before reentering her. “Me too,” he repeated before he filled her again, completely, endlessly.

  Niya’s reality slipped away as Alōs moved to taste every curve of her body, lick his way over every hill. He poured out his magic to braid with her own, until Niya did not know which sensation was hers or his. There was only them, stretching and pulling everywhere.

  That night, Niya knew Alōs would stay with her as long as he could.

  Because come morning, both would be leaving.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Niya leaned along the banister at the bow of the Crying Queen, the sea air whipping her braid behind her as she watched the land draw nearer on the far horizon. They had slipped out of the Stream only a few sand falls ago, leaving Esrom far below the waves, before sailing the remaining short distance to Jabari.

  Niya’s resolve churned in a cascade of emotions, matching the waves cutting along the ship. Excitement, despair, relief, grief, triumph—but always mixed in with the lot was heartache.

  She frowned against the constant painful throb in her chest as she took in the familiar harbor in the distance. White sails of other ships; the squawk of gulls soaring high above; the smell of fish in the air, netted and tugged onto decks. The city rose proudly from the sea, up a hill’s crest, to peak at the very center with the gathering of proud marble dwellings. Her own home was somewhere up there, among the wealthy. Her father was most likely in his study or on the veranda with her sisters, all gathered, she hoped, to await her official return. A smile finally broke along her features. It would be a welcome distraction to run toward them, thought Niya. Her family was always the best poultice to any wound.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to remain a pirate?” asked Saffi, who had been leaning beside her on the railing with Bree. The master gunner’s gray braids gleamed whiter in the morning light as she turned to regard Niya. “As much as it pains me to admit, Red, you are a competent artillery crew member. I will be sad to see you go.”

  “I only ever really cleaned the cannons,” Niya pointed out.

  “Yes, but they have never shone so bright,” said Saffi with a smile.

  “Death is better than goodbyes,” said Bree, pouting on Niya’s other side.

&nb
sp; Niya turned to her with raised brows. “And how’s that?”

  “At least when the Fade takes you,” explained Bree, “you have no choice but to go.”

  Niya’s gaze softened, taking in the small girl. “My choice to go back to my home is not my way of abandoning you.”

  “Then what is it?” Bree folded her arms tightly.

  Niya regarded her bunkmate, whom she had grown to cherish. “Would you consider Saffi a sister?”

  “What?” Bree bounced her confused gaze to the master gunner beside Niya.

  “You have sailed aboard this ship for a while now, yes?” asked Niya.

  Bree nodded.

  “And though I know it probably goes against pirate code to call any of your shipmates friends,” said Niya, “you certainly may think of them as family—am I correct?”

  Bree frowned. “I suppose . . .”

  “And though you may fight and disagree a lot, you still find you quite like them when all is said and done, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Bree. “So?”

  “So that describes a lot of families. Which would make Saffi here like a sister to you.”

  “A much wiser, tougher, and more skilled older sister,” Saffi added with a sly grin.

  “Yes, of course, as only older sisters are,” agreed Niya coyly before turning back to Bree. “Well, you see, I also have sisters that have missed me since I’ve been gone. It is unfair to keep them from my presence any longer, just as it would be unfair to rob any of your brothers and sisters aboard the Crying Queen of your charms if you left them for too long.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it robbin’ us if this mouse suddenly disappeared,” said Saffi. “More like gifting us with quiet.”

  Niya bit back a laugh as she watched Bree glare toward the master gunner. “This must be the part of having a family member who you’d like to throw overboard.”

  “Mouse,” chuckled Saffi, “if you could lift me overboard, I would give you my extra biscuits for a month.”

  “I see my lesson has taken on new meaning,” mused Niya as she watched the young girl charge Saffi, grunting as she attempted to move the older woman’s hulking form.

  “What’s going on here?” asked Therza, waddling toward them from the main deck.