by Claire Frank
Crouching low, she yanked up on his chin and slashed her knife across his throat. Without a pause, she let his head drop to the deck, blood pooling around his face, and strode over to Boles. His scream became a whimper and he curled up, tucking his arm close to his body and shielding his face with his other hand. The needle still stuck out of his eye. Rhis leaned down, grabbed him by the hair, and jerked his head back. With her teeth clenched, she slid her blade across his throat with a quick swipe and dropped his head with a crack.
Slowly, she straightened, blood dripping from her knife. “Anyone else care to cash in on that bounty?”
The three sailors in front of her gaped, their mouths and eyes wide. Asher stood behind them, his face screwed up in a grimace. Clamping his hand over his mouth, he turned and bolted.
“What in the bloody hell is going on here?” Rickson climbed aboard, his face severe. His eyes roved over the deck, the lines of his jaw standing out. His gaze stopped on Rhis and he crossed his arms. “You killing my men?”
“They tried for me first,” she said. Something in Rickson’s stance told her not to move, and she held as still as she could manage with the deck moving beneath her feet.
“That’s no lie, cap,” one of the crew said. “Boles said something about a bounty on her.”
Rhis never took her eyes off Rickson.
His face darkened. “A bounty?”
“These two aimed to take me off your ship and bring me in, collect the reward,” Rhis said. “Grabbed me at knife point.”
“She speaks true, cap,” a sailor said. “Boles grabbed her from behind and stuck a knife at her throat.”
Rickson took slow, deliberate steps across the deck. More of his crew climbed on board, others coming up from below. Tension mounted as their eyes took in the dead sailors, Rhis standing over the bodies with her dagger still dripping blood.
“Listen here,” Rickson said, his voice carrying across the ship. “This woman and her nephew are paying customers, under my protection. You lay a hand on her, I let her handle you. Is that clear?”
The crew responded with mutters of, “Yes, Cap’n.”
“I didn’t hear you. Is that clear?” He shouted the last word, his voice booming.
“Yes, Captain,” they replied, almost in unison, the word drawn out to its proper form.
“Good,” Rickson said. With a glance at Rhis, he turned and walked toward his cabin.
“What should we do with the bodies?” a sailor asked.
Rickson paused, turning to look over his shoulder. “Toss ’em overboard. I don’t want that filth on my ship.”
“Overboard? Here in the harbor?”
“Get them off,” Rickson said, enunciating each word, his voice harsh. “And scrub the deck clean.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
Rhis swallowed back bile as the sailors dragged the bodies away. Tightness crawled up her back, and her fingers twitched. She needed to wash her hands. With a hard look at the sailors who remained staring at her, she stalked back to her cabin.
***
A knock sounded at the door. Rhis finished drying her hands with a cloth and answered. “Come in.”
Rickson stepped in, anger still showing on his face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Rhis said. The sailor hadn’t hurt her, but she was still shaken by the public bounty notices.
“That never should have happened,” Rickson said. “I run a tight ship with a good crew.”
“They all know the price on my head now,” Rhis said, leaving the rest unspoken.
Rickson shook his head. “They won’t try anything. They aren’t all a bunch of miscreants. Most are decent men, and they’ve been with me a long time. I lay down the law on this ship, and they listen.”
Rhis nodded, but thought she’d still keep an eye out for trouble. “Is Asher all right?”
“Yeah,” Rickson said. His eyebrows drew down and he took a step forward. “He’s out on deck with Ewan. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Rhis’s pulse quickened as she looked up at Rickson. He stood close, his hands twitching as if he might reach out to touch her. Her lips parted, but she hesitated. She felt suddenly frozen, imagining what it would be like to have Rickson’s lips pressing against hers, his arms holding her tight.
Blinking, she shook her head. Where had that come from? Rickson was attractive, and a woman certainly had needs. But the concern in his eyes incited a wave of emotion that made her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t want to feel that way about someone. Not again.
“I’m fine,” she said, turning away. “Just make sure the rest of your crew doesn’t try to attack me.”
“Right,” Rickson said. Was there disappointment in his voice?
She kept her back to him and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the door shutting behind him.
EIGHTEEN: DEFEND YOURSELF
With sails billowing, full of a fortunate wind, the Wanton Maiden cut through the water. They had sailed out of sight of land, and nothing but choppy blue waves could be seen in all directions. Rhis came out on deck, her hair blowing around her face, and squinted into the sunlight. Traveling by sea was not her first choice—too much time spent cooped up with little to do. The crew generally avoided her, which was to her liking, but the long days were growing tiresome.
She hadn’t seen Asher since morning, so she decided to find out what he was up to. He’d taken to trailing after Rickson as if he were his valet, and Rhis was worried he’d get in the way. The sailors didn’t seem to mind him, but the last thing she needed was the kid causing trouble with the crew, or annoying Rickson.
Voices carried from near the bow and she spotted Rickson standing across from Asher. The boy had his knees bent, one leg slightly back, and Rickson took an exaggerated step toward him, as if attacking in slow motion. Rhis paused for a moment to watch. Rickson shuffled his feet and acted out another strike, showing Asher how to counter. With a nod, Rickson stepped back and beckoned Asher forward. Asher stepped in, hesitant, and Rickson carefully placed his hands, showing him how to get past Rickson’s defenses.
“Giving lessons now?” Rhis said as she strolled up to the two of them.
Rickson turned and flashed a grin. “The boy isn’t bad. Not much skill yet, but he’s quick.”
“Don’t I know it,” Rhis said.
“Come on, Asher, let’s show her,” Rickson said.
Asher’s shoulders slouched and he scratched his head. “I guess.”
“You’re all right, lad,” Rickson said. “You have a lot to learn, but we’ll make a decent fighter out of you yet.”
A spasm crossed Asher’s face and he turned away.
“He’s right,” Rhis said, nodding toward Rickson.
“Can someone please make a note of that,” Rickson said, looking around and holding up his arms. “This woman has twice now said I’m right, and I’d at least like a few witnesses.”
Rhis rolled her eyes. “Everyone gets lucky occasionally.”
“Not as often as I’d like,” Rickson said, flashing her another grin.
“You are quick, kid,” Rhis said, pointedly ignoring Rickson, “but working on your skill is a good idea.”
Asher shrugged. “I suppose.”
“So morose,” Rickson said. “A moment ago, we were doing fine. Is it the audience you object to?” He stepped closer to Asher and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, she makes me nervous too.”
Rhis crossed her arms. “Good. At least we still understand each other.”
“No, she’s fine,” Asher said. He looked down at his feet and pushed the toe of his boot against the deck. “I just … I need to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Rhis asked. “For what?”
“For what happened the other day,” Asher said. “Those men attacked you and I didn’t do anything about it. I just stood there, watching.”
“Do you think I expected you to intervene?” Rhis asked. “Those were seasoned sailors, with weapons. You
did exactly what you should have done; you stayed out of the way and kept out of it.”
Spots of color rose on Asher’s cheeks. “I could have done something. You said yourself, I’m fast.”
“Being fast isn’t enough,” Rhis said.
“I was fast enough to get away from those kids in Varale.”
“And you ran right into the hands of the Guild,” Rhis said. “A thrashing from a couple street kids would have been preferable.”
“Speed is good,” Rickson said. “But you do need some skill if you want to be able to defend yourself.”
“Goodness knows I can’t always be around to protect you,” Rhis said, raising her eyebrows.
“It’s just … hard,” Asher said, casting his eyes downward again.
“Don’t be so tough on yourself,” Rickson said, patting him on the back. “These aren’t the sorts of things you learn on the farm.”
Asher shook his head. “That isn’t why it’s hard. I know I can learn.”
“What’s the problem, then?” Rickson asked.
Rhis let out a sigh as Asher hesitated. Did he have to be so dramatic?
“I can see when people die,” Asher said.
“What do you mean by that?” Rhis asked.
“I can see their life leave them,” Asher said. “Can you see that?”
Rhis opened her mouth to reply, but Asher shook his head. Rickson took a step back, watching him with a furrowed brow.
“No, you can’t,” Asher said. “I don’t know if anyone else can. That’s probably why they thought I was a Wielder, back in Harmoth. I can see things other people can’t. My mother told me to stop talking about it because it made people uncomfortable.”
Rhis eyed him, wondering what he was talking about. See people’s lives leave them? That wasn’t normal.
“That’s the same look my mother gave me when I told her,” he said, gesturing to Rhis. “I know you don’t like having to take care of me, and I don’t like being helpless. But I also don’t want to kill anyone. I can see the life inside you, inside everyone. To take it from someone is just so … wrong.”
Rhis bit the inside of her lip. What did this kid know about right and wrong? About life?
“You don’t want to be helpless?” Rhis asked. She stepped forward and brushed her hair back from her face. “Let’s make sure that next time you aren’t.”
Asher swallowed hard while Rickson took a few steps away, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her. Rhis ignored him.
“Show me what you’ve learned,” she said, beckoning Asher toward her.
He pressed his lips together, his eyes darting around as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Lunging forward, he attempted a strike, but she batted his hand away.
“Were you trying to swat a fly, or hit me?”
Blowing out a breath, Asher adjusted his shoulders and lowered his stance. He came at her faster, his fist flying toward her stomach with impressive speed. She grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm around behind his back, holding him for a brief moment before letting go.
“Come on, Rhis,” Rickson said. “You don’t need to hurt him.”
“I won’t,” Rhis said.
Asher straightened and shot her a glare as he rubbed his wrist.
Good. He needs to get a little angry.
“My turn,” Rhis said and darted toward him. She went for his arm but he sidestepped, snatching his hand out of her reach at the last second. With a quick shuffle, she moved closer and grabbed the front of his shirt. Asher whipped around, breaking her clasp before she could get a good grip, then ducked below her next strike.
Rhis stepped back. “Good.”
Asher’s face broke into a smile but it melted as Rhis pulled a dagger from her belt.
“Now let’s have some real fun,” she said. Rickson opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. “I’m not going to attack him with a knife. What kind of person do you think I am?”
Rickson raised his eyebrows. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Rhis shot him a glare and turned the blade toward her palm, holding the handle out toward Asher. “Take it.”
Asher hesitated, his hand hovering in the space between them. Finally, he grasped the hilt, curling his fingers around it slowly, as if he were reluctant.
“A dagger is a versatile weapon,” Rhis said. “They are convenient to carry, easily hidden, and they aren’t difficult to care for properly.”
“Not the best choice if you’re facing someone who is better armed, though,” Rickson said. “I wouldn’t bring a dagger to a sword fight.”
“I like to avoid sword fights,” Rhis said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Anyone knows you can kill a man by cutting his throat or stabbing him through the heart.”
Asher winced as she gestured to her neck and chest.
“Hitting someone in the heart is difficult. There’s bone in the way, and you need a fairly exact strike. The throat is usually a better choice. It’s easy to see and your aim doesn’t have to be precise.” She grabbed Asher’s wrist and pulled his arm toward her neck, letting the dagger hover near her skin. “The blood flows on either side, but cutting deep across the front will work as well.”
Asher’s face paled, but Rhis pressed on. Coddling him wasn’t going to do him any favors. “There are other ways to incapacitate an enemy, aside from the obvious. Stabbing up through the chin can work well.” She moved Asher’s hand up, mimicking the motion. “Or here,” she said, guiding his hand down to her side, just below her ribs. “A knife in the gut may or may not be fatal, but it’s not a bad choice for getting yourself out of a bad situation. Just try to stab where there isn’t any bone. You want to slip the blade into the soft flesh—”
“Rhis, can I see you in my cabin for a moment?” Rickson said, his voice sharp.
Asher stepped back, the dagger dangling from limp fingers. Rhis turned to Rickson. “Why?”
Rickson grabbed her elbow and led her away. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Rhis let him take her to his quarters at the stern, leaving Asher behind. “What are you doing?”
Heaving his door open, he practically shoved her inside, then slammed the door behind him. “Are you insane?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Asher is just a kid. What were you doing out there?”
Rhis crossed her arms. “What did it look like I was doing?”
“‘You want the blade to slip through the soft flesh’? Did you see the look on his face?”
“That kid has assassins trying to kill him,” she said. “He needs to learn how to defend himself. You were the one who started teaching him.”
“I was showing him the basics,” Rickson said. “I figure he could learn bit of hand-to-hand before we start teaching him how to gut people.”
“A bit of hand-to-hand?” Rhis asked, her tone wry. “I’m sure the next time someone comes at him with a blade, that will serve him quite well.”
Rickson stepped close, and she caught a whiff of his scent, a mix of sandalwood and sage. She resisted the urge to back away.
“He’s a child,” Rickson said. “He doesn’t need you to teach him how to stab someone in the gut.”
“Yes, he does,” Rhis said. “If he’s going to survive, he needs to grow up and face the world the way it really is.”
“And how is that?”
“Dangerous,” Rhis said. Rickson’s eyes locked with hers and her heart rate quickened. “He can’t be a naive farmer’s child anymore. The world is a terrible and dangerous place.”
“It is dangerous,” Rickson said, lowering his voice, “but is it really so terrible?”
“Yes,” Rhis said, but her voice lacked conviction.
Rickson moved closer, his eyes darting across her face. “I think it’s you who’s dangerous.”
“Am I?”
He took another step, so close their noses almost brushed together. “Oh, you are.”
Rhis gasped as he
grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. His lips pressed against hers, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw scratching her face. Gripping the front of his coat, she made a feeble attempt to push him away, but her eyes fluttered closed. Her mouth parted and his tongue flicked across her lips.
Rickson pulled away, Rhis’s hands still clutching the lapels of his coat. “This is a bad idea.”
Her heart pounding, Rhis pulled him closer. Tension built in her body, her skin tingling. “It usually is.”
Rickson made a noise in his throat, halfway between a moan and a groan of resignation, and leaned in to kiss her. His tongue pushed into her mouth, his arms around her surprisingly strong. Twining her arms around his neck, she ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily as heat built in her groin. His mouth tasted faintly of apples and she shuddered as she pressed herself against him, feeling the stiffness beneath his pants.
She had to admit, no one had kissed her like that in a long time. At least, no one who wasn’t being paid to do so.
Rickson’s hands went for her belt and she pulled away to unfasten the buckle. It dropped to the floor with a clatter, daggers and all. Stumbling back toward his bed, Rickson pulled off his own clothes, and Rhis followed. She kicked off her boots and Rickson grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head.
“Leave it,” she said and put her hands on his chest, shoving him onto the bed. She didn’t want him to see her scars.
Letting out a low moan as Rhis crawled on top of him, Rickson grabbed her with rough hands, his fingers digging into her flesh. Her heart thundered and her body ached with urgency. Lifting his head, he pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her. He sat halfway up and rolled her onto her back. Rhis gasped, clutching his back, as he pushed himself inside her.
With little more than a passing thought for the noise they were making, Rhis cried out as he thrust himself in. It had definitely been too long. The pressure built, tantalizing heat spreading as he pounded into her. Each movement sent a spasm of pleasure through her, and his pace quickened.
He slowed, holding her on the edge while he kissed her. She bit his lower lip as he pulled away, and he thrust himself in again, faster and harder than before. Rhis raised her hands above her head, her eyes rolling back, and gave in as he exploded inside her. Gripping his backside, she thrust him in deeper, moaning as her own body burst into climax, pleasure flooding through her.