The Captain sighed through his nose, careful not to stir any winds. “I suspect she’s not the only one keeping secrets.” He met his friend’s dark eyes. “Until you’re willing to tell us yours, Amael, you can’t judge Sol for hers. We all lie with reason.”
Amael’s nostrils flared. “Arden nearly died today,” he reminded him. “Those bounty hunters were looking for someone, and I don’t suppose it was any of us. I suspect it was Sol.”
Fynn stuffed his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling. “I suggest you keep those suspicions to yourself.”
“Maybe Riel was right not to trust her.”
He bit back a groan that would likely end with a fist to his jaw. “You trusted her fine until you found out she was a Wielder. She was advised to keep it to herself, Amael, and she did until I needed to be healed. Would you have preferred she let me die?”
Amael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods, Fynn, of course not,” he said. The boatswain shook his head and turned away from his Captain. “I can’t do this right now. I’ll let you know if anything changes with Arden.”
Fynn said nothing as Amael left him near the mizzenmast. In the year he had been on this ship, Amael had never so much as openly disagreed with him. He’d never been wary of his crewmates, either, and each of them had their own secrets.
“Don’t worry about him.” Riel slung her arm around Fynn’s waist and squeezed. He did not know where she’d come from, but he wasn’t surprised that his Quartermaster had sought him out, likely having only stayed away this long to avoid Amael’s frustration. “Dryuans equate lying with sin, you know that. But Amael will come to his senses, especially when he realizes that your wound was more serious than you let on.”
He dropped his head to Riel’s shoulder. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”
“You were bleeding all over my deck,” Riel pointed out. “Of course I noticed. I wanted to pummel you for not going straight to Luca.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t.”
Riel embraced him again and let the Captain go. “Arden will be fine. Luca has seen and healed much worse.” She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “Remember that time you were speared—”
“Yes.” He waved her away. “Why do you think I’ve avoided Dryu until now?”
“For Amael’s sake,” Riel said. “Because you took a spear to the chest in his place and he’s never forgiven himself for it.”
“And now he’s pissed at me because the Princess is keeping secrets.”
The Quartermaster kissed his cheek. “He’s not pissed, Fynn. He thought they were friends and Sol didn’t trust him enough to tell him. He’s hurt. Give him time.”
“We don’t have time,” Fynn lamented. “We’ll reach the islands in a few days, and I need Amael to tell me how to win them over.”
“You’re charming,” Riel reminded him. “You can win them over on your own.”
“Nero was immune to my charm, hence the spear.”
“Perhaps you’re not his type.”
Fynn snorted. “I’m everyone’s type.”
Riel grinned as she looped her arm through his elbow. “There’s my favorite, egotistical little brother.”
“Confident, Riel. I’m confident. We’ve been over this.” Fynn led her across the deck, veering around puddles of blood. “Your ship was just attacked and Arden is near death down below. Why are you being this nice to me?”
The smile dropped from Riel’s face as she pulled him to a stop, her fingers gripping his arm. “Because what happened to Arden isn’t your fault, and I know you’ve found a way to blame yourself.”
“Isn’t it?” Fynn stared at the planks beneath his feet. Someone had scrubbed them clean, but the lingering traces of blood still remained, engrained into the wood in a permanent stain that would mark this battle with the bounty hunters. “I let Sol Rosebone onto this ship. You warned me what would happen if I let her stay, and I didn’t listen. Those hunters were only here because of her.”
“I know,” Riel said. “But if someone was willing to pay men like that to drag her back to Sonamire, maybe it’s a good thing she’s here. You and I both know what those brutes would have done to her the moment she was aboard their ship.”
Fynn winced. He did not want to consider it.
“She’s a pretty girl, Fynn, and assuming it was Avedis who sent those hunters, he knows it. He knows what they would have done to her and yet he sent them anyway.” Riel flipped her braid behind her shoulder. “I don’t know what the Princess is running from, but if her father’s lack of sentiment is any indication of what it was like for her back home, I can’t say I blame her for wanting to flee across the Emerald.”
Fynn arched an eyebrow. “So, you like her now?”
“I tolerate her now.”
He chuckled. “How kind of you.”
“She also saved your life, so for that, I suppose I owe her.”
The Captain rolled his eyes. “You’re a heathen.”
Riel’s grin was wicked. “You should check on her,” she said. “She hit the planks awfully hard when her Magic finally ran out. She damn near healed everyone on this deck.”
Fynn frowned as he turned back to look at Sol. She was beginning to stir, her fingers fumbling through Draven’s fur as she curled further into his side. Her lips were moving, and the direwolf nuzzled his nose against her cheek as if in answer to her words.
Fynn was still staring at them when the Refuge jolted beneath his feet. He stumbled into Riel as the prow of the bounty hunters’ ship cracked into the Refuge’s hull. Its serpentine bowsprit ground against the banister, scratching at the stained mahogany and carving out gouges in the wood.
Fynn’s Magic stirred, rallying as if to summon a breeze to launch the ship across the sea. “Do me a favor,” he said instead. Riel hummed her acknowledgment. “Round up a few deckhands and prepare them for a raid.”
Riel turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “You want to steal from the hunters?”
“Those bastards attacked my ship,” he reminded her. “And now I’m going to rob theirs for all it might be worth.”
The Quartermaster cracked her knuckles. “I love it when you’re spiteful.”
“Send for me when you’re ready to go. I’ll join you.”
He would not tell Riel that the prospect of killing another bounty hunter might aid in relieving his guilt. Fynn prayed there was another on board, just one, so that they might pay the price for what had been done to Arden.
Riel dipped her chin. “Aye, Captain.”
Fynn angled himself towards his cabin. “Do you think the Princess is up for a trip?”
“I think I’ll laugh myself to tears when she wets herself. Five gold coins says she trips and falls into the water.”
The corners of the Captain’s mouth twitched. “Eventually, we’ll have to stop betting on her,” he said. “But I think she might just surprise you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOL
She did not like those first few moments when one was roused into consciousness, when her mind lingered between reality and her dreams and she could not differentiate between them.
The hand on her shoulder was real, a solid weight that gently shook her from her sleep. The rumbling beneath her cheek as Draven snarled through his teeth—that was real, too. But the fire-phoenix that raged above the ship, its sparkling wings like a feathered sunset lit aflame, was not.
Sol squeezed her eyes shut tighter.
“Rise and shine, love. I reckon you’ve slept long enough.”
Such a beautiful, lilting accent that the Captain of the Refuge spoke with. Sol had never heard anything quite like it, every hushed, elongated syllable rolling smoothly into the next. Like the beast that burned behind her eyelids, evaporating like mist in the midmorning sun as her consciousness slowly returned to her, Fynn’s voice couldn’t be real.
Sol nestled into the warmth of Draven’s fur. Exhaustion pulled at every inch of her, at eve
ry muscle and bone that was tight and brittle beneath her skin. No matter how lovely his voice, the richness of his tone, she would not adhere to the filth that spewed from his mouth.
How dare he wake her up?
His breath tickled her cheek as he chuckled. He was close.
“Come on, Sol.” Fynn shook her shoulder again, his fingers sliding over the emerald silk of her tunic. “Your Magic will have replenished by now, and I need you.”
Sol groaned and swatted him away, her palm pressing against something soft and stubbly. “Be gone, Avedea,” she said. Sol rolled onto her side and turned her back to the Captain.
“Did you just refer to me as Avedea?” Fynn questioned incredulously, his tone rising an octave. But Sol did not care if she’d offended him. “The God of Chaos and Evil? All because I’m asking you to get up?”
She batted him away again, her hand colliding with the sharp curve of his cheek. His skin was both rough and warm beneath her fingers. “Be gone, Avedea,” she said again.
“Who knew,” Fynn retorted. “That you were such a terrible grump when someone wakes you from a nap. Are you like this every morning? I feel sorry for any lovers you’ve shared a bed with.”
The Princess pushed against his face. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone.”
“Interesting.”
Even half asleep, her cheeks burned. Sol did not often discuss her love life, especially her lack thereof, with anyone. Silas had once teased her for such modesties, but her brother had invited more men into his bed than Sol had ever cared to count. When she’d told him last month that she had never even had her first kiss, the Prince had nearly laughed himself hoarse.
“Get up, Sol, or I’ll call for Riel. And believe me, you don’t want that.”
The groan that escaped from her was a far cry from dignified, but Sol did not care about that, either. “I’m tired,” she whined. She forced herself into a sitting position, her back pressing into the cabin door, and glared at him. “I’ve never used so much Magic before.”
“Then you’ll sleep for the next week if I let you. Magic is taxing.”
Sol rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What do you need from me?” she asked, then dreadfully remembered why she was so exhausted, why her Magic was nothing more than the trickle of rain before a storm. “Is everything all right? Is Arden—can I help?”
The Captain’s expression softened. “No,” he said gently. “All we can do is wait. Amael is looking after her now while Luca gets some rest. You helped him a great deal just by tending to the rest of the crew.”
Sol idly fiddled with her hair, the vibrant red strands bound in a thick, messy braid that she’d done and redone countless times these past hours. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d had more training…”
Fynn took her hand to stop her from unraveling her hair again. “Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. “You did what you could. You healed me. Luca is capable of handling Arden.”
Sol studied their conjoined hands. Fynn’s callouses were rough against her skin, his thumb tracing lightly across her knuckles. “What do you need from me?” Sol asked again. Fear crept up her spine as her eyes went to his side. “Your wound, is it—did I not—”
Fynn stilled his thumb. “My wound is fine. Healed completely. There’s hardly even a scar.”
“No pain?”
He shook his head. “None.”
Her shoulders relaxed, her heart slowing to a steady beat in her chest. “Oh. Then what did you need?”
Fynn jerked his chin towards the massive enemy vessel that dipped and rolled with the waves. The serpentine bowsprit of the bounty hunters’ ship was dangerously close to splintering through the Refuge’s foremast. Sol winced, imagining her temporary home sinking to the bottom of the sea. “Riel and I are leading a raid, and I’d like for you to join us if you’re feeling up to it.”
Sol’s insides shuddered as she began to toy with her braid again. “A raid?”
“They’re bound to have supplies we need. It’d be a shame to let them go to waste.”
“What happened to the bounty hunters?” Sol asked. She had not dared to question the Captain’s crew. “Aren’t there any left on board?”
“If there were, they’d have already sailed away.”
Sol swallowed thickly. “But what happened to them?”
A gentle gust of wind tousled her hair. “I blew them all away.”
Sol’s stomach flipped. Her heart battered against her ribcage with enough momentum to splinter the bone, to burst through her flesh and reveal to the Captain the thunderous cadence in which it beat. She should fear this man. She should cower and balk and push him away and demand that he take her home. Her fate in Sonamire was better than her life in his hands.
But the Princess was not afraid. Never afraid. Not of him. “You killed them.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed again, her tongue heavy behind her teeth. “All right.”
Fynn blinked at her, the only surprise he would show. “You’re awfully calm about that.”
“Were you expecting a different reaction?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I killed every hunter that stepped foot on this ship. I blasted them into oblivion and spared no one. That doesn’t scare you?”
Sol took a breath, her lungs straining against the salty air between them. “No.”
Fynn’s mouth quirked with an easy smile. “Then you’re far braver than I’ve given you credit for,” he said. “But you haven’t answered my question. Are you up for going on a raid?”
“I won’t be of any use to you,” Sol replied. “I don’t believe I’m the raiding type.”
The Captain chuckled. “Probably not,” he agreed. “But if you want to survive in Nedros, we’ll need to toughen up that beautifully thin skin of yours. This raid will be good for you.”
Sol absently rubbed her arms. “My skin is plenty thick.”
“No, it’s not. You can hardly handle Riel’s attitude, and you’ll find far worse in Nedros.” Sol shuddered at that. “Consider this an adventure. I’ll teach you which supplies are necessary, and which ones we can spare to leave behind.”
“That’s a learning experience,” Sol said. “Not an adventure.”
“If you’re willing to have a bit of fun, it’s both.”
Sol nervously chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t see how raiding another ship is any fun.”
He grinned at her. “You’ve clearly never seen a horde of treasure before.”
She would not tell him he was wrong.
“So you are a proper pirate,” Sol mused. “But I didn’t see any treasure in your cabin.”
Not that she had truly looked.
“We keep most of it below deck,” Fynn explained, but Sol had not seen it there, either. “Amael divvies it up between the crew, and I only take the things that strike my fancy.”
“Like rocks?” Sol questioned. “You have plenty of those in your quarters.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Rifling through my belongings, I see.”
Her eyes widened like the beautiful stones of jade the Captain had sitting on his table. “No,” she said quickly. “No, they were just—”
“Relax,” Fynn chuckled. “I’d be a very rich man if I had a gold coin for every time Riel has snuck into my cabin and rearranged my stones. She thinks they’re silly.”
Sol frowned. “They’re not silly,” she said. “Not if you enjoy them.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I used to collect seashells,” Sol confided. A void as depthless as the Emerald opened inside her heart. “My brother would find them during his travels and bring them home to me. They were beautiful.” She twisted her hair around her finger. “When I began sneaking away to the forgotten beach in Sonamire, I’d practice my Magic near the shore. My water is one with the sea, and the tides would bring me the loveliest shells for my collection.”
“I wish the wind would bring me gifts.”
“I could never keep them,” Sol lamented. “Lest anyone discover where I’d been.”
“I’m sorry.”
She knew he meant it.
The Princess shrugged. “Why do you collect rocks?” she asked. “What makes them so special to you?”
“Crystals,” Fynn corrected. “They’re much more than rocks.”
“Crystals,” Sol amended. “Why do you have so many?”
“Come on this raid, and I’ll tell you.”
Sol fiddled with her hair, twirling the braid around her finger. She noted the challenge that gleamed in Fynn’s dark eyes, the way his mouth had quirked at the corners. He did not need her for this trip, likely only wanted to make a fool of her, but the way he smiled at her uncertainty…
She could not tell him no.
“All right,” she conceded. “But only because you might need a healer.”
Fynn touched his side. “I feel fine.”
“But if there are any hunters still on board that ship, someone might get hurt.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with silent laughter. “Right.”
“I’m serious.”
“I have no doubt you are.”
Fynn climbed to his feet and stretched, his tunic raising high enough to reveal Sol’s handiwork. She studied the scar between his ribs, the faint pink line that marked his wound’s infliction, and frowned. Had she not been a healer, however untrained she might be, he may not be here, taunting her with the answers to her questions.
The Captain extended his hand to her. “We should see about finding you a weapon.”
Sol did not think twice about letting him pull her to her feet. “I wouldn’t know how to use one.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” Fynn promised. “But you should have one just in case. A knife, perhaps.”
“I didn’t see any extra knives in your cabin.”
“You clearly didn’t check beneath my pillow.”
“No,” she laughed. “I did not.”
Fynn squeezed her hand once and let go. “Come on,” he said, gesturing to the cabin door. “Let me show you what treasures strike my fancy.”
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