by Shae Ford
He frowned when she shifted to clutch her pillow tighter and he saw the grimy streaks trailing behind her arms. “There are plenty of clean tunics lying around here, I’ll have you know.”
“Well, I like this one,” she mumbled, grinning into her pillow. “It has your scent.”
“I have my scent. And I’m lying right beside you. So there’s no need —”
“Anything you leave on the floor is fair game, whisperer.” Her eyes cracked open, and her lips bent into a smirk. “Now come back to bed.”
No. He had to tell himself, very firmly, no. Flames danced behind the green of her eyes as they locked onto his. Her smirk spread into a grin that almost made him grin back. He swore he could see the memories drifting behind the flames, the shadow of the secret they’d shared …
“No.” He had to say it aloud. For some reason, his legs had started to drag him towards the bed. “You can stay here if you like, but I’m going to the docks. I swore to Shamus that I’d look after the repairs while he’s away. And I mean to keep my word.”
“Suit yourself.”
He would. As a matter of fact, he was determined to get his boots on and head out immediately. Kael righted a chair that lay on its side in a corner of the room — and nearly toppled over before he remembered that it'd been broken.
The back was gone, having been snapped off and hurled to another end of the room. The book he’d been trying to read lay sprawled between the wall and the floor, while the bedside table had been knocked askew. Though their chambers were in a near-constant state of mess, it certainly wasn’t the worse thing to have happened.
After their first night together, Kael woke to find the mattress in ruins and the bed’s stuffing plastered across his every inch: stuck in his hair, against his skin, and wedged into places where no man should’ve ever had to find feathers. The bed’s frame had been reduced to splinters — crushed, with its legs trapped beneath it.
He couldn’t remember exactly what they’d done to cause such a mess, but he knew he didn’t want to have to spend the day trying to seal all the broken pieces back together. So he’d decided to make them a frame of iron, instead.
Kael had shaped the metal beneath his hands, weaving an immovable pattern of slats beneath the mattress, twisting each of the four legs into spirals that occasionally bent, but never broke. The head wound high and the foot arched low. So far, it’d all held together.
But the rest of the chamber’s furniture hadn’t been so lucky.
Kael sat down carefully, easing forward as the chair groaned against his weight.
“The clouds are rolling in,” Kyleigh murmured from the bed.
Her back arched as she stretched her arms above her. One of her bare feet stuck out from beneath the covers. Her toes curled and uncurled as she gazed out the window, smiling as the morning light drifted across her face and left a trail of pink behind.
All too soon, the light was gone — shadowed by a cloud’s billowing chest. The bright fires in her eyes fell to embers. They smoldered as they lighted onto his.
“Weren’t you in some sort of great rush to get to the docks?”
Kael realized that he’d been staring — stuck bent over, with his foot frozen halfway inside his boot. “I was — I am,” he amended, when she raised a brow. He tore his eyes from her smile and crammed his foot purposefully into the boot.
It was the wrong one.
“I think I’ll go for a fly today,” Kyleigh mused, her gaze returning to the window.
Kael had known from the moment she mentioned the clouds that flying was precisely what she wanted to do. But he didn’t like it. “Just be careful, will you?”
“I flew around the Kingdom for centuries without being discovered — I think I’ll be able to manage a few more,” she said wryly. Then she stretched her hands towards him and whispered: “But I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything unless you help me out of bed.”
He was most certainly not going to do that. “I haven’t got time for this, Kyleigh.”
“For what?”
“You know very well what. If I come over there, it’ll be another hour before I make it out the door — if I’m lucky,” he added, glaring to keep the fires from rising up.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I’m far too tired for any of that.”
“You are?”
“Yes … it isn’t easy, trying to hold my own against a Wright.”
The arch of her lips cut against the smooth pale of her cheeks. Red bloomed across her face. It spread down her neck as the fires within her eyes started to dance. The memories were there again, sliding behind the flames.
Kael supposed she had a point. “All right, fine — I’ll help you up. But no mischief.”
“None whatsoever,” she promised.
But no sooner did he take her hands than the world spun and Kael’s head struck the pillow. He was trapped: one of Kyleigh’s legs draped across his middle while she wrapped his shoulders in her iron grip.
“Oh, I can’t believe you fell for it again,” she murmured into his ear.
He would have protested — he’d had every intention of protesting. But as if she could sense the words forming, Kyleigh’s lips were there. They pressed against him, tied his tongue. When she finally released him, he found he no longer had the breath to protest.
He gripped her arm as her lips trailed across his jaw and teased the vein that throbbed in his neck. It gave him away every time. That line of his blood rushed close to the surface, howling as it burst into flame. His fingers dug into her arm; he tried to bring her closer. Her grip tightened across his chest, and her lips parted in a grin at the agonized pounding of his blood.
In one final attempt to see reason, he arched his neck away … but she followed.
Her growling laughter trembled against his side as she dragged her teeth across that vein — stirring the fires with something that frightened and thrilled him all at once. It was dangerous to be trapped so tightly against her. His body should have tried to wriggle free, to escape the trailing pressure of her teeth.
But in that moment, his only worry was that she wasn’t close enough. There were empty patches between her limbs and his, places where they didn’t quite touch. He didn’t want anything between them — not even the emptiness. So he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his chest.
The fires roared. They lapped at the under-edges of his skin and brought his heart to life. Love with Kyleigh dragged him into a trance all its own: his heart pounded without mercy, his strength seemed to drop from limbs and into the depths of his blood — where it woke a strange, wild part of his soul.
This part of him never worried, it never thought. The wildness met Kyleigh’s love without fear, and Kael never fought it.
Her grip tightened the moment the fires burned hot, as if she could sense the battle was about to begin. Their love was a never-ending war — a blaze of fury driven to anguish by their attacks. The world dropped away and the battle consumed them. Nothing was safe, once the fight had begun.
If they ever woke to find the castle torn down to its base, Kael wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.
He held his ground as Kyleigh’s lips returned. He let her lead him through their kisses — occasionally moving in a way that made her grin. In the moment before the wildness cloaked his eyes, his hand went to her throat. He traced the arch of her neck up to her chin. He wanted to see if her blood pounded as fiercely as his …
It did.
Just when it looked as if the morning would be lost, a terrified scream startled them apart.
In the half-breath it took Kael to be surprised, Kyleigh had pinned him beneath her — one arm clamped protectively across his chest and her full weight planted on his middle. He heard a hiss and a shrilling hum as she ripped Harbinger from among the sheets and leveled the white blade at the door.
The maid standing in the archway screamed again and flung her arms protectively over her face. “Don’t hurt me, La
dy Kyleigh! I only came in to tidy things up a bit. Crumfeld said you’d gone, and that I was to sweep the broken bits of chair off the floor and change the sheets. I wouldn’t have come in had I known you were still … um, here.” She peeked through her hands at Kael before turning a tearful look onto Kyleigh. “Please don’t lop off my head!”
“She’s not going to hurt you,” Kael promised. Then he glared up. “Didn’t we agree not to keep any weaponry in the bed?”
Kyleigh shrugged. “Not that I recall.”
“Really? Because I very clearly remember —”
“Tell Crumfeld we’ll be along in a moment,” Kyleigh growled, without taking her eyes off of Kael.
He knew that look, and realized this might be his last chance to escape. “No, there’s no point in bothering Crumfeld. I’m on my way out.” He scrambled from beneath Kyleigh and began searching through the shattered dresser for a clean tunic.
“Ah, I’ll just come back when you’ve gone.”
Kael turned in time to see the maid’s eyes whip away from his back — and Kyleigh’s glare followed her out the door.
“Humans,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Always peeking around every corner and through every crack.”
Kael didn’t think that curiosity was an entirely human trait. He seemed to remember a certain halfdragon who loved to poke around. But it wasn’t worth the argument. “I’m heading out.”
“Wait — take this with you.”
She slid out of bed and paced over to him, twisting the ring from her finger as she went. Its delicate white-gold band had been woven into the symbol of the Wright: an eye with three tiny triangles fanning from its top, three interlocking triangles at its base, and a small onyx stone carved into the black triangle at its middle.
It was a tiny thing, but the ring felt like stone in the palm of his hand. “How long will you be?”
She shrugged. “That all depends on how interesting the world looks today. It’ll be nightfall, by the latest.”
She couldn’t wear the ring when she flew. It wasn’t made of scales, which meant it couldn’t hold her second shape. Still, the band felt oddly cold as he slid it into his pocket.
“Fine. I suppose I’ll see you tonight.”
“Kael?”
He turned at her growl and nearly choked when he saw how her eyes blazed.
“When I return, I plan to finish what I started,” she warned with a grin.
*******
Though Kael had promised to look after things while Shamus was gone, there wasn’t much to do. Copperdock was always packed to its edges with ships needing repairs, and the shipbuilders could fix just about anything. They handled the merchants and dealt with the coin.
All Kael seemed to be good for was pretending to be the one in charge — and slipping in occasionally to fix the things they couldn’t.
“The weld keeps cracking,” one of the shipbuilders muttered, dragging a sleeve across the damp of his brow. “We’ve been at it for ages, now. Nothing will stick.”
They were deep in the belly of a merchant’s vessel, crouched in front of a beam that’d popped free of its bolt. Kael felt as if he had an old sock stuffed over his head: the air was impossibly thick and reeked of mold.
He knew by the way the beam warped upwards that a weld would never stay put. “I’m going to have to seal it to the wood. Keep a watch for me.”
The shipbuilder crawled away while Kael slipped into a trance. As he concentrated, the wood of the beam and the iron of the bolt became like clay in his hands. He pushed the metal downwards and dragged the wood over its edge — leaving just enough of the rounded top exposed that the unknowing eye might think it was simply a little more hammered in than the others.
Kael worked quickly, and finished none-too-soon.
“All I’m eager in understanding is when we’ll be able to sail off. You promised two days, and it’s been two days. You’ve had plenty of time to get everything —”
“Done,” Kael said as the merchant ducked in. He nodded to the shipbuilder. “Well done. I’m pleased with this.”
“Thank you, Lord Kael.”
“You’re Lord Kael?” the merchant said skeptically, eyes scraping down Kael’s frame. “Huh, not even a seas man.”
Kael didn’t have time to listen to another rant about how a lordship belonged to those who’d been born in the seas. He couldn’t have cared less about being a lord — in fact, he thought the title fit him about as well as a bear fit in a longboat.
But it wasn’t worth explaining. “You’re all set here. Sail off whenever you’re ready.”
“Ah, and after you’ve paid,” the shipbuilder added quickly.
Kael ducked out into the narrow corridor, but the merchant followed close. “Is Shamus coming back anytime soon?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t heard from him.”
“Well, I’ve heard that things at the chancellor’s castle have rather deteriorated,” the merchant said smugly, as if the knowledge he possessed could’ve easily been traded in for a sack of gold. “They still haven’t been able to decide on a new high chancellor, and rumor has it that the councilmen have started taking matters into their own hands.”
Kael wasn’t at all surprised. He’d hardly spent a week with Kyleigh when Lysander sailed into Copperdock — eyes wild and trousers aflame, going on about how one of the councilmen had trapped his beloved ship in Harborville.
“I knew I should’ve gone with them,” he’d ranted. “It was supposed to be a quick round of trade — to the plains, the northern harbors, and back. All I wanted was a few days to spend with my wife and son. Now look at the mess we’re in!”
Lysander had already enlisted Jonathan’s help, hoping that if the plains threatened to stop sending supplies, the council would listen. But just to be safe, he’d taken Shamus along, as well.
“Their ships can’t sail forever. They’ll need repairs, eventually. If the council won’t listen to their bellies, then perhaps they’ll listen to their legs. There’s room for one more,” he’d added, nudging Kael with a look. “You could seal them up inside their blasted hall, flatten the stairs so they can’t escape. I imagine things would get done rather quickly, if a Wright started pasting the council’s boots to the floor.”
If there was one thing he hated more than being a lord, it was the thought of getting into the middle of a merchant’s squabble. Just hearing Thelred talk about the council’s meetings made his eyes roll back — and he didn’t trust himself not to set fire to the tables the minute things got dull.
So Kael had offered to stay behind and deal with the repairs, instead.
But even that was beginning to test him.
“It’s the longest the seas have been without some sort of ruler,” the merchant panted as he tried to follow Kael’s bound up the stairs. “I’m interested to find out what will hap —”
“Yes, it sounds exciting,” Kael said as he climbed onto the ship’s deck. Every merchant who sailed into Copperdock had the same tale — and each one assumed that he was the first to tell it.
But he couldn’t sit through another moaning story about how the seas weren’t nearly as grand as they’d once been, or how the council was in trouble. There was a line of dark gray clouds gathering in the west. They’d travel quickly over the seas and break open the moment they struck land. Kael wagered he only had an hour or so left to work — and he wasn’t going to waste it listening to rumors.
“Exciting?” the merchant scoffed behind him. “It’s going to be a disaster! The council will gut itself at the rate things are headed. And where will we be then, eh? What’s going to become of our people?”
Kael wasn’t sure, but he was certain the council would find some way to work it all out. After all, there were far worse things than a few late shipments.
CHAPTER 4
Bad Luck or Piracy
Night blanketed the seas. They’d left the calmer swells behind them about an hour before. Now the pirates sailed across
a stretch of ocean that had been worn smooth — not by the wind, but by the silent war raging just beneath it.
The southern seas clashed against its northern head. Their waters ebbed in cold and warmth, each flattened by the battle. Though the waves looked calmer than ever from above, Captain Lysander could feel the war in the soles of his boots.
There were little tells in every groan, every slight shift off course. His hands wrapped tightly about the railing each time he felt them start to drift. The ship’s sides creaked as the battle scraped across her belly. Wind wouldn’t be much help against this sort of wave. No, the only thing that might save them from being dragged aside was the skill of their helmsman.
Shamus, master shipbuilder of Copperdock, was doing a fairly decent job of it. His thick arms swelled each time the seas pulled them an inch. He turned the wheel against the flow and his jaw went taut between his bushy sideburns.
But though he’d managed to keep them from being swept into the west, they still lagged well behind the others.
“I can’t believe you let Perceval cut past us,” Lysander muttered, glaring at the ship just ahead of them.
It’d passed them some time ago — after the crew had grown tired of crowding their sides and sending the pirates’ bow through their wake. Lysander still glowered against the memory of their laughter. He was certain there wasn’t anything worse than being passed by a merchant.
And over the course of the day, they’d been passed by all seventeen of them.
Lysander pounded his fist into the railing. “Perceval, by Gravy! Everybody knows he’s got the slowest fleet in the seas. There’s a reason they say that if you give the rest of them a day, you’d better give Perceval two — and he’s left us in his wake!”
Shamus didn’t seem at all concerned. “You’ve got some of the toughest vessels in the High Seas, not the fastest. Every captain likes to think his ship is best. But there’s no such thing.”
