To find the rest of the Prism Stone and save Esrom from surfacing, save his brother from what this cruel world had in store for him, Alōs would start over again and again and again.
“How precious are these plants again?” asked Boman, the first to speak.
Alōs met the old man’s dark eyes, a hint of a smile in them, of understanding.
The look set off a wave of shocked relief.
“A single stalk of most would pull in a clean bag of silver, others maybe two,” answered Kintra.
Therza whistled. “My, my, perhaps that is worth a trip to the beach, despite any hungry giants lurking about.”
“Aye,” said Emanté from where he hung in the back of the group, his massive shirtless form taking up the width of two men. “I’ve never cared about what’s between me and more coin. Anything to add to my investments, I am happy to oblige.”
A few more of the crew nodded and mumbled their agreement.
Alōs took it all in, silent, amazed.
Dare he even say grateful?
Kintra had been right.
They care.
As you care, a voice replied from deep inside him.
Alōs drew his brows together. How much he was changing.
“We thanks ya, Captain, for this opportunity.” Boman brought his attention back to the group. “I’ll be sure to prepare the boats for whoever still wants to go pull some weeds tonight. And understand if you and Red here go looking for more rare ones deeper in.” His eyes glimmered with silent words. We still stand with you.
Alōs held his helmsman’s gaze. He, who had helped steer his ship through many storms, was doing it now.
“That sounds good, old man,” he said with a nod. “And do remind those aboard that we wait for no one. If they are not ready when we are to push off, they miss out on collecting any bounty.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Boman tapped his heels together before barking at the group to push out of the room.
As the door shut behind them, Alōs stood for a moment, barely taking in what had just happened.
“Well,” breathed Niya, pushing from the wall and striding toward him. “That was unexpected.”
He shook his head. “Annoying is more like it.”
“I believe it went exactly as I thought it would.”
Alōs turned to lock eyes with her, an unsettling sensation running through him. “Did you put them up to this?”
“I put no one anywhere.” She held up her hands. “It’s not my fault if they took my gruff response about them stopping gossiping like bar hands and taking whatever questions they had up with the man himself.”
“By the Fade, Kintra!” Alōs growled.
“As I see it,” she said, unfazed by his temper, “now we all can get on with plans and stop with the tiptoeing. This ship is a family, whether you like it or not.”
Family.
Alōs ran a tired hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he sat back in his chair.
He’d barely survived the first family he had. This lot would surely do him in.
Still, he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t pleased by the turn of events. Cautious but pleased.
“Speaking of plans,” said Niya, gesturing to the map on his desk. “Our plans for tonight are still rather rubbish.”
Alōs glanced to the spread-out papers, thoughts of what still lay ahead resurfacing along with the throb in his temples. “Yes,” he agreed. “But they’re the only ones we’ve got.”
CHAPTER FORTY
The moon was a silver crescent in the night sky, the peeking voyeur to the pirates who slipped quietly through dark waters below. Their rows were timed to the rhythm of crashing waves on the distant shore, their pants of exertion no louder than the whistling of sea air.
Sitting at the bow of one of the boats, Alōs studied the bonfire glow coming off the farthest-west cliffside. Its twin to the far north. Watchtowers.
An island with eyes.
Yet he and his crew, three boats full, slithered directly in the middle, through their blind spot.
That night they breached land where few who stepped on ever stepped off.
All were silent as they set to their tasks. Giddy glimmers in gazes as they plucked forth blooms edging the forest entrance. Children with the heady promise of shiny treats when done with their chores.
No one spoke of what had been shared in his chambers. Only moved like the accomplished thieves they were, focused on the task at hand.
Alōs found Kintra across one of the sand dunes, watching the scurrying pirates like a mother to children. Her shadowed gaze met his, with a winking of gold from her earrings against the faint glow of the moon. His heart beat a quicker rhythm as they each gave a nod, and he and Niya split off from the group, carving their path north.
“This is where I think we are meant to enter.” Niya pointed to a tangle of dark trees crammed between severe cliffs. “We can reach their camp fastest on this trail, but we’ll have to cross those two rivers.” She glanced back to the map she had unfurled. Its markings were barely visible in the night, but he had studied it enough to know she was right.
“Crossing rivers won’t be an issue,” said Alōs, stalking forward.
Niya caught up to him, tucking the map inside her vest. “Says the man who can walk on water. But what about me?”
He glanced down at her. “Can you swim?”
“Of course . . .”
“Then we enter here.”
A wet growl echoed from inside the jungle as they approached.
Niya paused, studying the unknown darkness. “Rivers may not be an issue,” she began, “but other things not drawn on maps might be.”
“There will be other things,” assured Alōs. “But we must get to their camp while it is still night. I don’t know about you, but I would rather not sleep here unless forced.”
Alōs walked on, and as he stepped beneath the black canopy, he allowed his eyesight to adjust. Barely any moonlight fell across the forest floor, but thankfully, as they continued deeper, pockets of firebugs and glowing shrooms began to light their way.
Alōs pushed aside thick vines draping from branches. They twisted around one another like the island’s veins. The air grew damp and heavy, and Alōs’s magic purred contently from the mist, feeding off dewdrops that collected on his exposed neck.
“It’s beautiful,” whispered Niya, reaching out to stroke a purple glowing bud. It opened at her touch.
“And deadly,” added Alōs.
“What do you mean?” She frowned over to him.
“‘For the plants that glow, into the Fade the eaters will flow.’”
Niya tugged back her fingers, wiping them on her pants. “Maybe lead with that one next time.”
They climbed over felled trees, used their blades to cut through thick foliage, and carefully avoided hanging nettle.
“This place,” said Niya, as they entered a meadow twinkling alive with firebugs, “it reminds me a little of . . .”
“Of what?”
“Esrom.”
“Yes,” he agreed, pushing away the sudden ache that realization caused. “It has similar qualities.”
“Do you miss it?”
His brows drew together. “Esrom?”
“Yes. Do you miss having it as your home?”
He was silent a long while, only the buzzing of nocturnal creatures mixing with his thoughts. “At first, it was like living without being able to breathe. But now . . .”
“Now?”
“It is a pain I’ve grown so used to it has become a strange companion.”
Niya was quiet for a spell, the soft crunching of their footsteps the rhythm of their path forward. “Some memories, I think,” she eventually said, “are worth the pain they bring. They remind us that whatever we had was real. And knowing it was true, remembering, well, it can sometimes offer a comfort, even amid all the hurt.”
Niya’s eyes were two pools of blue sapphires in the glowing night
as he met them. Open, like they had been so many days ago when she’d lain in his arms. A new pressure weighed against his heart, but it had nothing to do with memories of his old home.
“Niya . . . ,” he began.
“We’ve reached the first river.” She pointed forward.
The canopy of forest broke to reveal fast-flowing waters dancing like quicksilver in the reflecting moonlight.
Niya strode toward the bank, leaving Alōs alone in their shared moment like a child releasing a floating lantern into the night.
“Do you think it is deep?” asked Niya.
Alōs came to her side, looking at the flowing river. “Only one way to find out.”
“Can’t you work your magic so we both can walk on water?”
“If you allow me to carry you, then yes.”
This seemed to give her pause. She bent to test the water. “By the Fade,” she hissed, shaking out her hand. “It’s freezing.”
“I’ll meet you on the other side, then?” Alōs spun out a spell, gathering his magic in green clouds beneath his feet, before stepping right above the river’s surface. He could feel the power of the water beneath him, a rush of energy that fed into his gifts to keep him floating.
“Wait,” called Niya.
He turned to look at her on the bank. “Yes?”
“Carry me.”
“You’ll have to repeat that,” he said. “The river is quite loud.”
“You heard me just fine.” She fisted hands on hips.
“I promise I did not,” he said, feigning innocence. “Something about cranberry tea, was it?”
“Carry. Me.”
He arched a brow. “Was that a command? Because given the circumstance, I believe the situation warrants more of a grateful, humbling request. Don’t you?”
She glared daggers at him, obviously unaware that such a look only fueled his actions further. He bit back a grin.
“Carry me, please.”
Such sweet satisfaction, he thought.
“Why, of course, my lady.” He returned to her side before quickly scooping her up.
“Wait. No. I can ride on your back.” She wiggled in his arms.
“As if I am some common pack mule? I think not. Now stop struggling, or I might lose my hold and have you topple into the very cold river.”
Niya stilled, looking wholly awkward as he carried her in his arms. The river continued to rush beneath them as they slowly made their way over it.
“You can put them around my neck,” he suggested.
“What?”
“Your hands. For a better grip.”
“I’m gripped just fine.”
“That you are.” Alōs held her tighter so her hand fell flat to his chest.
She plucked it away.
“Interesting,” he mused, his mind instantly going to the last time she had touched him there. When it had been skin against skin. Despite their current surroundings, a wave of dark desire washed over him.
“What?”
“Well, you were not so skittish about laying hands on me the other night. Yes, I’m bringing it up,” he said in response to her widening eyes. “How shocking. The lost gods know we have both been thinking of it since.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Okay, speaking for myself, I’d like to do it again. Many times, in fact.”
Alōs knew it sounded crass, but by the Fade, it was the truth.
Niya surprised them both by laughing, the warm sound vibrating through him.
“That amuses you?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Thoroughly.”
“And why’s that?”
“Who wouldn’t want to sleep with me again?” She gestured to her ample bosom and devious curves.
“My, my,” tutted Alōs as they drew closer to the opposite riverbank. “How arrogance suits you, fire dancer.”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied smugly.
Despite himself, Alōs laughed in kind, a deep chuckle that was met with Niya’s inquisitive stare.
“What?” he asked.
“I think that might be the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”
“Nonsense. I laugh all the time.”
“Not like that.”
Alōs shifted her slightly in his arms, a ripple of unease going through him. “Like what?”
“Like you were actually happy for a grain fall.”
Her words fell like blows. But rather than pain, they only had him settle deeper into his growing warm resolve regarding the fire dancer.
“Yes, well”—his eyes held hers—“it appears I have found more moments to actually be happy in.”
He watched as her cheeks turned pink, a rare occurrence of shyness that Alōs found he enjoyed thoroughly.
When he placed Niya down on the other side of the river, he realized at some point her arms had wound around his neck.
For a breath, they remained there. A tingling of awareness shot between them before Niya stepped away, letting a cool whip of wind replace the heat of her touch.
“If you must know,” Niya eventually said as they headed into the next stretch of dark, damp jungle, “yes, of course I enjoyed that night, but it changes nothing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just because we find pleasures with one another, just because we have this . . .”
“All-consuming sexual tension?” he suggested. “Unstoppable power when together?”
“Thing between us.”
“I preferred my description.”
“Doesn’t mean I have forgotten our past,” she went on.
Alōs held back a frustrated groan. “Niya, how many times must I explain myself?”
Her jaw set in stubbornness. “Many times, it seems.”
He shook his head. That familiar weariness gripping him, as it did when he’d held her in his arms those nights ago. That no matter what he said, she would never forgive him. Never give him a chance to prove that he was not the same man, that he was no longer the same pirate, despite how she might have witnessed him opening up to his crew earlier on the ship. An act he never would have done before she had come aboard, before her burning fire had worked its way into his heart, keeping it from ever truly being able to freeze over again. “I know what I did to you was ruthless, but you of all people must see why I did it, understand. We each live in a ruthless world.”
“Of course I know the world we live in,” she said in a huff. “And I might now empathize with your past, yes, but—”
“But nothing. If I were to judge your entire character on a single action in your life, like those souls you have danced into the Fade as a performance piece, I would say you were a vain, heartless monster.”
She flinched as though hit. “Those prisoners were killers themselves! Traitors to the—”
“But I don’t, Niya,” he said, cutting her off. “Because we are all a complicated tapestry, a tangle of decisions and actions. I have seen your good along with your evil. Where you let some people in and push others out. We have experienced enough together by now that I would hope you would have found similar nuances in me.”
The sounds of the woods buzzed around them. Niya’s lips set in a firm line.
“What exactly is it you want, Alōs?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Alōs. “You.”
Niya blinked.
“You may never forget our past,” he went on, “but let us move beyond it. We will always find reason to fight, you and I, but let it not be as enemies.”
“Alōs—”
“Why do you resist this?” He stepped toward her, sensing her magic as it skittered confused along her body, a red vibration. A wall. “Why do you resist what you know is possible between us?”
“Because,” said Niya. “Just because it feels good doesn’t mean it is.”
“You still do not trust me.”
“How can I? You’re you.”
It was as if she’d spiked him through the chest.
“I see.” He spoke coolly, feeling the cold veneer from the past reforming along his bones, locking tightly across his muscles. His suit of armor despite his newly thawed heart. “So the courageous fire dancer will deny what burns between us because she fears repeating the past?”
“It would appear so.” Her chin tilted up. “Because even I know the hottest of flames are the quickest to burn out.”
They traveled the rest of the distance in silence, Niya deciding to swim the final river rather than be carried, then using the heat of her magic to dry herself quickly when back on land. Alōs was glad of her choice. He didn’t need to feel her against him, hold something close knowing he could never touch what lay inside.
She did not trust him, nor forgive him, and Alōs believed she truly never would. His life’s work seemed to only involve seeking clemency for past actions. And he was tired of it. Once all this was done, he would set himself and his pirates to sail a new course, search for fresh waters. Once all this was over, he and Niya could finally go their separate ways. He was not about to force the fire dancer to remain with him any longer than he already had because of their binding bet.
“By the stars and sea,” said Niya, her words bringing Alōs back to where she had stopped to peer over a thick tangle of bushes.
He pushed aside a branch and looked upon a cutaway section of the forest.
It sprawled endlessly, deep into a gorge.
And there, spilling out wide from the center, was the home of giants.
Massive buildings with expertly thatched roofs and neat, brick-laid streets.
“It’s all so . . . large,” breathed Niya.
“Yes,” said Alōs, his resolve returning to what had brought them here, what he prayed lay within this beast. He hungrily took in the city, his gaze landing on the largest of the homes at the very back, a hulking four-story dwelling. “And we’re about to be its mice. Now”—he looked to Niya—“let’s go steal some cheese.”
Dance of a Burning Sea Page 37
