by Susan Grant
His gaze dipped, taking in the sight of her from head to toe, and seemed to quite like what he saw. “Val Blue,” he said. “It’s about blasted time.”
“About time?” She laughed and hooked a thumb in her weapons belt. Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, she swaggered as she circled the table. “I was out, busy protecting this camp—in case any of you visiting clansmen were up to no good.”
The men at the table chuckled at her sauciness even as they feigned innocence with dramatic gestures.
“And you, Sureblood?” Val said, stopping in front of him. “Are you up to no good?”
“I haven’t had the chance yet.” The men laughed as the twinkle in Dake’s eyes challenged her. Up close, he was even taller than she remembered. Bigger. If it were possible to feel a man’s body heat through layers of clothing, she did. “I could use a little fresh air to clear my head of your moonshine, though.” He leaned on his fists. “But you’d best escort me…just in case I feel like misbehaving.” His tone took on a softer, inviting edge. It almost made her blush. Let’s get out of here. His intent was clear.
She took a step toward the door when she deflated, remembering her duty. “Can’t. I’ve got to work.” She turned away before their interaction drew more speculation than it already had. And before her disappointment showed too bloody much.
Suddenly, Grizz roared over the noise. “Shut yer traps! Conn’s gonna speak!”
The noise ebbed about as much as it could under the circumstances. Conn climbed to his feet and then to the top of his chair, helped by Grizz. His face glowing, his smile brilliant, he scanned the crowd with pride and a kind of conviction she hadn’t seen from him in so very long. Dressed in his best clothes, he was a man enjoying every second of a party he’d long dreamed of hosting. Joy overtook her seeing him like this.
Val’s heart pounded with growing excitement as Conn peered out at the crowd. There were children and elders, clansmen and strangers. He looked so proud to have the clans here, all their people, and even Nezerihm, glittering with zelfen and precious stones as accents on an outfit fit for a king. He acted like a king, too, sitting at her father’s table, peering around as if he were the one in charge.
But Conn rose above them all. Val stored away the memory of his triumphant expression to make it last forever.
At last Blue clan’s leader took a deep breath and began. “Ladies and gentlemen—and raiders, now that we’ve got everyone here, I’ll make things official. It’s my honor to welcome you to the first sanctioned gathering most of you have ever seen. A fine tradition with roots in our very beginnings as a people. It’s about bloody time we started it up again!”
A hearty roar went up.
“Get yourselves out there if you’re wantin’ to dance. Drink if you’re wantin’ to drink. And whatever else you might be wantin’ to do—do it. Remember, what goes on at the gathering stays at the gathering!”
The stomping of boots and pounding of fists on the tables was absolutely deafening. Nezerihm was quiet as he observed the pirates celebrating. His pretend smile was more a grimace than a grin.
Val whooped even louder. Hearing her father’s speech was as exhilarating as coming off a successful raid. The same high floated her spirits. No troublemaking, gossip-spreading outsider like Nezerihm would take it from her.
Conn sat back down with Sashya’s help. The band started up a slow thumping beat. A slango beat! She unbuckled her weapons belt and hung it over Sashya’s chair. Then she quirked a corner of her mouth into a wry smile as she sauntered over to Dake swaying her hips. “I’ve got time for a slango, if you think you can dance.”
His eyes glittered like jewels as they settled on her. “Oh, I can dance. Question is, can you keep up?”
“Why don’t you come find out?”
To the cheers of their respective clans, including Yarmouth, Hervor and Squib, Dake hooked her arm with his and swept her away from the table.
As they passed Ayl, he glared at her with a what-the-hells-are-you-doing frown. Val held her head high, not ashamed of being with the Sureblood. Like Conn said, this was a new era. No more would she be the stepping stone to Ayl’s impossible ambitions. She was a raider, free as the wind. If Ayl was lonely, he should be helping Despa stock shelves, not drinking with his friends and ogling other women.
Nezerihm appeared as disgusted as Ayl.
“He isn’t too happy about this party,” Dake muttered.
“That man,” she spat, whispering back, “he’s been telling people you’re using him as a scapegoat for stealing everyone else’s share.”
“Of course, he is. He wants to start a fight between your clan and mine. Between all the clans. He’s got a vested interest in stirring up trouble at this gathering. If we all start getting along again, we might not be so dependent on his charity, hunting down his ore stealers. As long as we’re dependent, Nez is in control. He’ll do what he can to keep it that way. View everything he does through that lens, Val.”
“Dependency is dangerous. Dependency is death.” She remembered how Dake’s words held two different clans of raiders transfixed that day on the freighter.
“Then he can view us dancing,” she said with a daring glance at the mine owner. “Aye, let him see us together and see his future.”
The slango beat started up and drowned out hopes of more conversation. Her blood sang with anticipation. Dake didn’t know if she’d be able to keep up? He’d see.
Arms moving from high to low, she and Dake circled their hands a hairsbreadth apart, then turned, each in opposite directions. Weight on the knees, hips loose, feet stepping in a precise pattern. As the beat increased in tempo, keeping two different rhythms for the hands and feet took increasing coordination and stamina.
She had both. Did Dake?
The beat drummed faster.
Hands up, almost touching, then down. Boots slapped the floor so fast they were a blur. With each slam of the musical beat, Val expelled a breath, her skin tingling with a light sheen of moisture. Her green shirt fluttered, her braid swung as she whirled, repeating the steps faster now.
A curse rang out. The male half of the couple dancing near them missed a step and stumbled out of the way.
It nearly stole her concentration. Don’t think, just dance. Dake must have had the same thought. Exertion wet his forehead, and his mouth was tight with concentration. His body heat radiated his scent, musky and male with a hint of the exotic that made him so fascinating. Despite his size, he was an athletic dancer, tireless. His expression was one of pure delight.
The beat sped up yet again.
A lock of her hair came loose and stuck to her cheek. She didn’t pause to push it out of the way. They’d reached the point where the dancing was more instinct than conscious thought. Like busting through a hatch under threat of an attack, if you thought too hard about what your hands and feet were doing, you’d trip over yourself, or lose the beat.
More couples fell victim to the increasing tempo. There were bursts of laughter and curses. Soon they were one of only a few pairs left.
Val and Dake spun together like clockwork, almost in a trance until the last notes finally slowed and the slango ebbed away. Breathless, they left the floor to the sound of wild applause.
She wanted to grab Dake close, and saw her desire mirrored in his expression. Too many eyes were watching them, waiting for public affection, she knew. Many pirates in both clans wouldn’t approve of a mixed couple. As the clan leader’s daughter, she always had to think of more than herself. She couldn’t forget the clan.
But that wasn’t the real reason she couldn’t leave with Dake. She was on duty. She’d already taken a longer break than she’d negotiated with Hawkk. She was needed outside.
A wave of frustration washed over her. “I’ve got to get back to work. My brother’s late. I’m filling in.” It about killed her to say it.
Dake searched her face, then his expression turned determined. “I’ll take care of this.” He called ou
t to her father. “Conn Blue! I understand your daughter’s on duty. I’m requesting your permission to borrow her to show me around.”
She almost laughed aloud at his audacity. Then nearly turned red. The Sureblood hadn’t even asked her first.
Does he need to? It’s obvious you want to go. Anyone could see it, aye. Yet, she’d given her word she’d provide security. Conn bent sideways and nodded something. Sashya whispered to him. The woman finished up her private message with a kiss, pausing to applaud in Val’s direction, then wrapped her coat over her shoulders and left. Conn sucked in an angry drag on his cigarette. “Valeeya, come here.”
She approached obediently. “Aye, sir.”
“You’re off duty for the rest of the night.”
Fates, yes! She couldn’t believe her luck. Still, she’d been assigned to security and it felt flighty running off. “But, Papa. You’ll be short one guard.”
“Don’t ‘but Papa’ me. You’ve got my protective streak, girl, and my stubbornness in always wanting to follow through. But this is different. I’m giving you the night off. My order overrules Hawkk’s. No arguing, unless you want to be scrubbin’ waste ducts all day tomorrow.”
She shuddered at the thought.
“Your mother’s gone off to bed, and I’m off to have a drink or two around the bonfire with my men. Aye, and not with my own daughter there to babysit me. Even your mother knows to leave me to my vices. Music, drinkin’, singin’ bawdy songs. A man can still do that, can’t he? Go on now. Show our Sureblood guest a little of our famous Blue hospitality.”
The man’s gaze glowed with genuine fatherly affection as he winked at Dake. Then he crushed out his cigarette and called out for Grizz to join him.
Dake conferred briefly with his clansmen, sharing his plans, then escaped the crowded feasting tent with Val.
Cool, moist air flooded under the tarp. Their boots made sucking noises in the mud as they ducked outside the flap. The air was thick with the scents of wet earth and cedar, muting the sounds of music and laughter, even that of her father as he joined up with his friends unsteady on his feet.
Val watched them go. A sputter of guilt took away some of the fun of getting out of her guard duty. “Conn won’t be careful. He’s too drunk.”
“The others will watch him.”
“They’re drunk, too.”
“Everyone is,” Dake reminded her.
“Everyone but us, you mean.”
“Girl, I’d have a belly full of moonshine myself by now, if not for wanting to be with you.”
His eyes glittered as he gazed down at her, a melding of blues and greens, flecks of gold and shades of gray. It should be illegal, a look like that. “Sureblood, you’re going to charm the boots off me if you’re not careful.”
“Your boots, aye. And your socks, and…”
“And what?” She stepped backward, luring him away from the tent. They were grinning like fools, their boots squishing in the mud.
“I’ve got to keep some mystery as to my intentions, don’t I?” His boldness made her skin tingle and her heart dance. “Let’s get out of here, Val. Too many prying eyes and wagging tongues.”
Her father, though, was nowhere to be seen. But with the sounds of drunken singing filling the night, she knew that wherever he was he was having a good time. The man deserved it. He deserved this night.
And so did she.
With no more thought to the duty she’d escaped, she took Dake by the arm, laughing as they splashed away through the mud to the mist-clogged paths she knew by heart.
The woods were hushed but for the distant barking of the camp dogs. Rain pattered against the highest leaves and didn’t quite reach the ground. “I know just the place,” she said as they hurried along. The perfect place. She could smell the cypress-scented steam from the baths already.
“Dake pulled his collar up. His breaths were gusts of vapor, his golden skin aglow with the cold. “It’s dry, I hope.”
“Not exactly…but it’s warm.”
“Good. I heartily want to get there.”
“Why? Is the boy from the plains cold?” she teased.
“Hells. I’m burning up. And I don’t mean from slango.” He caught her hand and spun her close, grinning slyly as he slid his arms around her waist. He was taking wild liberties and it made her as dizzy with anticipation as she was before a raid. His lips were warm as they brushed over hers. The roar of the surf couldn’t quite drown the rushing of her blood, or her sigh. She reached up to pull him down for more, but he caught her head in his big hands, holding her still.
“I met a man tonight who thinks he’s your future husband.” Dake made the remark sound casual but it was obvious he wanted information.
“Ayl,” she snarled. Crowing about their supposed engagement in front of everyone at the gathering. It made her blood boil. “What he thinks and what’s the truth are different things.”
Dake searched her face, then the tension in his mouth eased. His lips curved, his gaze suddenly intense. Hungry. She could feel a tremble of impatience, of desire, that went through his body. “Now, where were we going?”
Grinning, she snatched his hand and soon the sounds of the village had all but faded behind them.
FERREN HID IN THE SHADOWS where she’d listened in wonder to the throb of the music and the dancing. Reeve had been away all night on duty. Luckily, his mother was even kinder and more trusting than he was, not suspecting it wasn’t Ferren sleeping under the mound she’d made out of bedding. It had allowed her to sneak away to the clan’s tubs to savor a long soak while most were distracted by the festivities. She’d stayed as long as she dared, even as her soul cried out for her to immerse all the way and fill her lungs. She’d already figured out the danger of that. She’d lost the ability to breathe underwater. Did the same eventually happen to all who left her world?
Even to Adrinn? What would his captors do to him once he could no longer live underwater?
Ferren fought to breathe, one hand clutching her coat around her thin frame. She tried to conjure the memory of the prince—golden, so vital; the way his hair swirled in the shallows like spilled dye, the light shattered by the sunshine at the surface, making his skin glitter like crystal, and hers, too. The golden disks he wore in each earlobe, stamped with the symbol that marked him as royalty. Three chevrons beneath a star: the waves and the sun. Home.
Blessed Heart of the Sea. Her soul seized with another spasm of grief. At times she thought the grief would kill her, and at times she might not mind. But as long as she was a soldier in an invisible army, sworn to fight in an invisible war to free those like her and return them to their birth world, the only place they could exist as nature intended, she’d stay alive, no matter what it took, even if it meant remaining with land folk until the time was right to complete her mission.
Like a night bug flitting around a light, Ferren hovered around the land people, drawn to them yet unable to be part of them. She shrank back seeing the raider Val leaving with the strapping Sureblood man. She wanted to train as a raider like Val, but until she gained strength, Val and others would scoff at the idea. Intrigued by the female raider, one of the few in the clan, she followed the couple as they walked off into the night. Ferren hurried to match their pace and slipped on the slick path. It sent her stumbling into the bushes. It frustrated her to be so clumsy. Underwater she was graceful and sleek.
She was halfway to her feet when boots splashed on the path. She dropped into a crouch on the spongy turf, her heart in her throat.
A man walked hurriedly past, so intent on his destination that he didn’t see or hear her in the darkness. She recognized him. He’d been in the group Reeve escorted that afternoon. One of Nezerihm’s cronies.
Nezerihm. Her hair stood on end. Having been sold by her previous owner, she’d been under transport to a “wealthy mine owner” when the ship was attacked. It must be Nezerihm who’d bought her. From what she’d learned from her captors and these pirates, he was
just the kind of man who’d consider one of her people a collector’s item.
She pushed to her feet and followed the crony all the way to the shopping area, where he entered a healer’s shop. Moments later he reappeared and cast a furtive glance up and down the street as he tucked a small sack in his cloak.
What did he buy? The store owner was a pretty blonde healer whose presence seemed to make Val act ill at ease. And vice versa. Ferren wished she knew what had happened between the women. They both seemed competent, especially Val.
The wary man huddled deeper into his cloak and hurried away. Curious, Ferren followed.
FAR BELOW THE BLUFFS, waves crashed onto a rugged beach. Ahead, several low wooden buildings appeared out of the drizzle and fog. Val chose the one that belonged to her immediate family and unlocked it, grinning as she pulled Dake inside and shut the door against the foul night.
The air was warm and humid. The fragrance coming from the moist cedar planks surrounding the deep tub was powerful enough to make a person feel drunk on it, and Dake’s expression of pleasure told her he thought so, too.
“The cypress tubs are my favorite thing about coming home,” she said.
“More than a tub. A room-size tub.” His teeth flashed in the warm light. “I like the way you think, Blue girl.”
He followed her lead, stowing their boots, heavy with mud, then their socks. “The baths are fed by geothermal springs,” she explained, placing her weapons belt out of reach of the door as every raider was taught. “There’s an ingredient that’s supposed to bring clarity to the soul. It’s said the water’s got no equal anywhere in the Channels.”
She lit tiny lights along the benches and activated the underfloor warmer. Then she grabbed hold of the hem of her blouse and lifted it over her head—and froze halfway through lowering her trousers, seeing that Dake’s mouth had gone slack at the sight of her casually stripping. His surprise marked him as a stranger to her world. Blues were raised partaking in the baths. Mostly, unattached males bathed separate from the single women, but shyness about one’s body wasn’t bred into them. Out of respect, she turned around to give him his privacy. “Leave your clothes on the bench when you’re finished. You don’t need to rinse before getting in.”