“Good ol’ Blanca.” Amok smiled fondly. “Poor girl. I knew her parents. They were kind folk, even if they were a lil’ leery of eccentric strangers.”
“Perhaps you knew my father then?” Nathaniel stepped forward. Saying his father’s name took courage because it brought back his loss in full force. “Alhearn Blueborough.”
Amok’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” He jumped from the boat onto the dock.
Brax moved his hand to the hilt of his sword hidden underneath his cloak, but Nathaniel raised his hand to stop him.
Amok studied Nathaniel’s face. Close up, the old man had more wrinkles than an old sheet wadded in the closet. “Ah yes…there he is.” Amok pulled back and smiled. “You have his eyes and his nose. He’d be proud of the man you’ve become.”
A wave of melancholy threatened to knock Nathaniel to his knees. He breathed deeply, stifling the sorrow. “Will you help us?”
“For the son of Alhearn, I’ll do anything.” Amok gestured toward his ship. “Climb aboard. The Manta’s Tail is all your own.”
Nathaniel turned to Brax and Valoria. Brax raised his brow in doubt, but he followed the old man and climbed aboard. Valoria smiled as she passed him. “Thank Lyric’s lyre you came along.”
“Lyric’s lyre?” Amok noticed Valoria’s harp strapped to her back. “Do we have a minstrel in our mist?”
“We do, and my harp is at your command.” Valoria bowed to him. Brax offered his hand and she climbed aboard.
Nathaniel moved to climb on himself, but Amok held up a gnarled hand. “Hold on right there, lad.” He gestured down the dock toward the town. “Looks like you forgot to give a proper farewell.”
His stomach dropped. Blanca came running down the dock with veils trailing behind her, waving her arm wildly. The urge to jump on the ship overwhelmed him, and he glanced back to the bow, where Brax and Valoria stood staring.
Blanca had put them up for the night with no questions asked, offered to watch over their carriage and horses while they were gone, and gave him a great recommendation for a captain. Only a rogue would run away from her now.
He walked as fast as he could to meet her to get as far away from the ship as possible. He did not want anyone overhearing her flirtatious attempts.
“How could you leave without saying farewell?” She reached him, grabbing both his arms in her hands.
Guilt trickled over him. He’d been relieved when he saw an older woman sitting at her post. “You weren’t at the desk, and we had to leave immediately.”
“I forgive you.” Her hands roamed up his back to his neck. “And I want to give you something for the journey.”
Before he could ask what it was, she pulled his head down to hers and mashed her lips to his. Her hair blew in the wind, surrounding him in a curtain with no escape.
Nathaniel pulled back, but she was stronger than she let on, and her grip did not falter. She smeared her lips all over his mouth and sucked on his lower lip before pulling her head back.
She could have hit him over the head with a hammer and he would have been just as bowled over. But, it wasn’t from love. It was from shock and embarrassment.
He turned his head, praying to all the gods that Brax and Valoria had gone below deck. But, they stood where he last saw them. Brax’s eyes widened in surprise, and Valoria shot daggers with her glance before turning away. Amok grinned as if impressed.
Mortification froze his soul. Valoria must be disgusted. Never would he think to kiss a woman he hardly knew so flagrantly in front of everyone. He wanted to turn around and leave without another word. But, the sincere expectation in Blanca’s face stopped him.
“Blanca…” He searched for the right words. How could he tell her he didn’t love her? That he loved…
She placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t say anything now. Take your journey and think about me.”
“I could never—”
She shook her head. “You are too noble for your own good. You always were. We do not know what will happen on your journey, but give the thought of us a chance.”
“Why me?” Nathaniel shook his head. “I was just a blacksmith’s son who you used to tease.” They had no long, tragic history, no sweet memories.
“You knew me before, back when I was young and the world had so many possibilities. To everyone else, I was the poor orphan child.”
“So was I.” He’d underestimated the tragic link binding them together. They were survivors from a bygone time, a time of innocence.
“I pushed people away. I didn’t want their pity.” Blanca wound part of her veil around her finger. “I was so caught up in rebuilding, in keeping the inn going, that I turned my nose up at offers. Now, I’m an old maid.”
“You are hardly old.” If she was old, he would be considered old as well, and Nathaniel refused to believe he had his best years behind him.
She laughed. “That’s what I always loved about you, and why I teased you so much. You have a kind soul. I didn’t appreciate it then, but I do now.”
“Remember me with this.” Blanca slipped a handkerchief in his hand. With a smile, she turned and walked back down the dock.
Nathaniel slipped the handkerchief in his pocket like a stolen item he didn’t want anyone to see. He dragged his feet back to the ship. What would he tell her if he returned and his feelings were the same as they were now?
“Now there’s a farewell.” Amok chuckled.
Nathaniel breathed quickly to reply and thought better of it. To tell the old man he did not want her affection would only make him look like more of a scoundrel. He ignored Amok’s taunting leer and climbed on board.
His lips ached where Blanca had kissed him, and he was certain red scratch marks ran across the back of his neck. His cheeks burned so hot, he thought he’d set his hair on fire. One thing was for sure, no one would forget that kiss anytime soon.
How he would restore his integrity in his party’s estimation, he had no idea.
* * * *
The constant rocking of the ship made Valoria long for the hard, unchanging cobblestone in front of the House of Song. How a body of water could be so beautiful yet so unmerciful and relentless perplexed her to no end. Now she knew why sailors called the sea their love and their bane.
“The manta ray is a magnificent creature.” Amok sat beside her as she tried to focus on the rise and fall of the horizon. “Despite their monstrous size, they do not kill large prey. Instead, they open their mouth and forage for the smaller creatures in the sea. They are not violent, or all-consuming like the wyverns. Instead, they survive on the leftovers.”
She nodded, trying to find significance in his words. “I see.”
Amok spread his hand over the water. “They cast a wide net and forage for the bits, much like I do to make my way in this world. The trick is to not get too greedy or you’ll overfish your welcome.”
“I’d never thought of it that way before.” Valoria studied the tattoo on Amok’s neck. The ink had seeped around the edges, making the image of the fin blurry. It must have been done many years ago when he was a young man. Did he regret it? Who was Amok, truly? An eccentric madman, or a sage seaman wizened by his years? Did he speak true wisdom or nonsense?
Valoria considered his words. “The wyverns pushed too far and that proved to be the end of them.”
“Aye.” Amok nodded as his eyes gazed out to sea. “Same with the undead. They’ll overstep their bounds, and you have to rein them in.”
Valoria studied him, wondering if he had an inkling of why they were sailing to the Sea of Urchins. Had word of the undead attack spread so quickly? “Easier spoken on the wind than enforced with a sword.”
“That is why they have you.” He pointed to her. “For you conjure your magic speaking on the wind.”
“At least I try.” She shivered, thinking of the necromancer’s soulless black eyes and how he’d sucked a p
art of her soul dry. “I fear it will be the death of me.”
“The death of you, or your rebirth.” Amok winked. “Depends on how you look at it.”
Valoria blinked, taken aback. Did he mean for her to allow the darkness to overtake her?
Nathaniel emerged from below deck, stifling any further conversation of the undead. He nodded in their direction, then walked to the railing on the other side. Jealousy reared up like wyvern fire in her chest. She’d known there was something between him and that overly bold woman. Why he’d tried to hide it from her, she had no idea. It wasn’t like they were betrothed. He was free to kiss whom he chose.
It shouldn’t have mattered to her, yet it tightened her stomach until she couldn’t think of it any longer.
“Now there’s a lucky lad.” Amok smiled, but it was sad. “One of the few survivors.”
As much as their conversation unnerved her, at least it was keeping the sea sickness at bay. “You knew his father. What was he like?”
“Honorable and just. You knew he’d live up to his side of the bargain. He knew how to trade and make both parties come out on top. One summer he traded me a silver fish hook every week for a pound of tuna and a lobster. I thought I was getting the better end of the deal, but he said at the end of the summer that his family ate like kings and thanked me for it. Made me feel worthy, like I was doing good in the world. Now that’s a talent if I ever say so myself.”
Valoria pictured Nathaniel as a small boy eating fish at his father’s table. When she’d arrived in Ebonvale, he’d made her feel at home the minute he met her. “Nathaniel is the same way.”
“You think highly of the lad?” Amok studied her and his bright blue eyes seemed to see too much.
“He’s a loyal companion.” She stood, turning her back on the real answer. The dizzying sway made her stomach pitch. “I’m not feeling well, I must go below deck.”
Amok winked and patted her arm. “You’ll get your sea legs. Don’t worry about that.”
Valoria nodded and stumbled to the wooden stairway leading to the belly of the ship. Gaining her sea legs was the last thing she had to worry about.
The ship pitched up, and her hands slipped down the moist railing. She fell down the stairs. Large hands caught her and held her up until the boat steadied.
Embarrassment burned in her cheeks. “Brax.”
“My lady.” He set her down gently. But he did not move to climb the steps. It was as if he’d forgotten where he was going. But Brax wasn’t a scatterbrained man. He must have changed his plans because of her. “Are you well?”
“’Tis the sea.” She moved by him, embarrassed to show her vulnerability. He already thought her a useless, naïve girl. “I really must return to my room.”
“Wait.” His voice came out as a command.
Valoria whirled around ready to deliver some barb about ordering her around when the kindness in his eyes stopped her.
He reached in his cloak and brought out a silver flask. “This helps with the sickness.”
Although the gesture was kind, offering booze to a seasick princess was not the way to a woman’s heart. “I do not drink ale.”
He extended the flask toward her. “’Tis an herbal mixture I picked up yesterday in town.”
She took it, brushing his sausage-like fingers with her own. He was always so warm, like a fire burned under his skin.
She unscrewed the cap. The liquid smelled faintly of lavender and chamomile. “How did you know I would be sick?”
“I didn’t. I succumb to the pitch of the sea.” Brax paused as if deciding whether or not to speak further. “The sway of the sea can bewitch the best of men.”
Valoria had to suck in her cheeks to resist the urge to smirk. Strong, proud Brax drank herbal tea to calm his stomach? The truth made him more endearing, more human. He’d gone on a limb giving her the tea. It exposed his vulnerability, which was the last thing warriors wished on display. He’d done it for her.
She touched his arm, feeling warmth beneath his shirt. “You needn’t say more. Thank you.”
He bowed his head. “Glad to be of service.”
Awkward silence filled the air between them. Should she stay? He was finally opening up. Her stomach churned and her knees wobbled. She needed to drink the tea, lie down, and dream of solid ground. Valoria turned and walked to her room.
Surely, there’d be more opportunities to spend time with him without the deck pitching beneath her feet.
She collapsed on her bed and popped the cap on the flask, running her fingers along the place where he’d put his lips, where she’d put hers if she drank the tea. She was procrastinating, and the truth made guilt settle in her gut. She wasn’t as opposed to him as she used to be. A small spark of interest stirred inside her. If she encouraged it, the spark could develop into a flame. But would it burn as brightly as the one already blazing inside her for Nathaniel?
She hadn’t run from Brax; she’d run from her own conflicted emotions.
Chapter 23
Soul Touch
Long sticks poked from the water as if giant pincushions lay underneath the surface. A scraping sound made Nathaniel cringe, reminding him of when Blanca used to draw her nails across the chalkboard in school.
He jogged up the stairs to the wheel where Amok stood, gazing into the horizon. Did he not hear it? Had the old sailor gone mad?
“Shouldn’t we turn around?” Nathaniel couldn’t imagine the wood of the hull lasting much longer.
Amok laughed. “Why turn around when you’re in the right place?”
“The right place?” The man had gone mad. He moved to push him aside and take the wheel.
“The Sea of Urchins, my lad.” Amok’s voice stilled him. The old man waved his hand over the clusters of brown twigs rising on either side of them. Some of them were almost as tall as the masts. He leaned to the right, bringing the wheel with him, and the ship rounded a particularly large clump.
“Urchins?” Nathaniel had seen one wash ashore once. He’d probed it with the toe of his boot until his father had told him to let it be. But, that one had been the size of a coin. “What about the ship?”
Amok patted the wheel. “The Manta’s Tail is sleek and quick. We’ll be clear of them soon.”
“And what about the ones tearing us to shreds along the way?”
“Silver fish hooks ain’t the only thing your father sold me over the years.” Amok punched his shoulder. “The bottom of the hull is plated in the strongest and lightest metal ever forged. They won’t even leave a scratch.”
An old memory flashed through his head. His father stood over the hearth, banging out slim sheets of a silver alloy. Nathaniel had asked him what it was for and he’d said he couldn’t give up his customer’s secrets, not even to his son. Nathaniel had been angry at him, he could still feel the irrational frustration underneath his skin. He’d thought he was ready for the tricks of the trade. Now, they’d gone with his father to the grave.
“Many a sailor has come unprepared.” Amok pointed, and his face turned solemn. The remnants of a ship impaled by one of the urchin’s quills stood adrift above the sea. The sails had been torn to shreds, and the threads blew like ghosts in the wind. A hole in the hull revealed a table on its side and a chair with a ripped, velvet cushion. “And don’t go for a swim anytime soon. The spines will slice your leg open, not to mention the poison which fills a man’s veins and turns him blue as the sea.”
“What is the meaning of this senseless place?” Brax’s voice pulled Nathaniel from his haze. The warrior climbed the steps two at a time. “I sleep for an hour and the world turns upside down.”
“We are crossing the Sea of Urchins.” Wonder lined Nathaniel’s voice. “Amok says not to be deterred. How is...Val?”
“She has not emerged from her room.” Brax glanced to the horizon. His gaze turned foggy and unreadable.
Nathaniel hadn’t spoken with her alone since the
Blanca incident. She’d mostly kept to herself or talked with Brax. “Have you spoken with her?”
“Only in passing yesterday afternoon.”
“We should check on her.” Nathaniel glanced to the stairs to the lower decks.
“The girl needs her rest.” Amok gave Nathaniel a disapproving glance, as if he wooed every maiden he laid eyes on. “It takes time to get over the sway of the sea.”
“You say not to worry, but what is that giant over there?” Brax pointed to a large mass of brown and white spotted shell moving in between two giant clusters of urchins.
“Dear Helena!” Amok’s hands tightened on the wheel, making dread stir in Nathaniel’s gut. “I thought I’d never see one in my lifetime.”
“What is the foul thing?” Brax drew his sword.
“An urchin herder. The beast picks the spines clean.” Amok turned the ship, but Nathaniel feared it wasn’t soon enough. The shell turned, curvy ridges spiraling up as long, spidery legs climbed over the spines toward their direction. Amok’s face turned white. “Best wake up the girl. We’ll need her harp.”
Fierce determination shone in Brax’s dark gaze. He raised a hand, stopping Nathaniel. “Leave her be. She’s safer in the cabin.”
He was right. Did Nathaniel want to sacrifice her for her music? A little voice told him she could take care of herself. But, he wasn’t going to take the risk he was wrong. She was too valuable, too precious. He drew his own sword, adrenaline coursing through his limbs. “Then let us battle it together.”
The spidery legs picked through the spines with elegance, as if they’d danced around them for eons. The shell turned, revealing the opening where four large, red claws sprouted. Antennae unfurled, sweeping the air around them. Atop the red carapace sat two black orbs.
“Reminds me of the lobster I had for dinner.” Brax spat on the ground. “This will be an easy kill.”
Nathaniel wasn’t so sure. Those claws could cut through steel. He’d cracked enough lobster carapaces in his life to know how hard that shell was.
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