But for all of that, he liked her.
Alucard had taken a dangerous girl and made her positively lethal, and he knew that combination was likely to be the end of him, one way or another. So when she’d betrayed him, attacking a competitor before the Essen Tasch, stealing their place even though she had to know what it would mean for him, his crew, his ship … Alucard hadn’t truly been surprised. If anything, he’d been a bit relieved. He’d always known Antari were selfish, bullheaded magicians. Lila was simply proving his instinct right.
He thought it would be easy then, to be rid of her, to take back his ship, his order, his life. But nothing about Bard was easy. That silver light had snagged him, gotten his own blue and green all tangled up.
“You knew.”
Alucard hadn’t heard Kell coming, hadn’t noticed the silver stirring the air outside his thoughts, but now the other magician stood beside him, following his gaze to Bard. “We look different to you, don’t we?”
Alucard crossed his arms. “Everyone looks different to me. No two threads of magic are the same.”
“But you knew what she was,” said Kell, “from the moment you saw her.”
Alucard tipped his head. “Imagine my surprise,” he said, “when a cutpurse with a silver cloud killed one of my men, joined up with my crew, and then asked me to teach her magic.”
“So it’s your fault she entered the Essen Tasch.”
“Believe it or not,” said Alucard, echoing Kell’s words about Rhy from the night before, “it was her idea. And I tried to stop her. Valiantly, but it turns out she’s rather stubborn.” His gaze flicked toward Kell. “Must be an Antari trait.”
Kell gave a grunt of annoyance and turned away. Always storming off. That was definitely an Antari habit.
“Wait,” said Alucard. “Before you go, there’s something—”
“No.”
Alucard bristled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know it was probably about Rhy, so I know I don’t want to hear it, because if you say one more thing about how my brother was in bed, I’m going to break your jaw.”
Alucard laughed softly, sadly.
“Is that funny?” snarled Kell.
“No …” said Alucard, trailing off. “You’re just so easy to rile. You really can’t fault me for doing it.”
“No more than you will be able to fault me for hitting you when you go too far.”
Alucard raised his hands. “Fair enough.” He began to rub the old scars that circled his wrists. “Look, all I wanted to say was—that I never meant to hurt him.”
Kell gave him a disparaging look. “You treated him like a fling.”
“How would you know?”
“Rhy was in love with you, and you left him. You made him think …” An exasperated sigh. “Or have you forgotten, that you ran from London long before I ever tried to cast you out?”
Alucard shook his head, eyes escaping to the steady blue line of the sea. His jaw locked, body revolting against the truth. The truth had claws, and they were sunk into his chest. It would be easier to let it go unsaid, but when Kell turned again to go, he forced it up.
“I left,” he said, “because my brother found out where I was spending my nights—who I was spending them with.”
Alucard kept his eyes on the water, but he heard Kell’s steps drag to a stop. “Believe it or not, not all families are willing to put aside propriety to indulge a royal’s taste. The Emerys have old notions. Strict ones.” He swallowed. “My brother, Berras, told my father, who beat me until I couldn’t stand. Until he broke my arm, my shoulder, my ribs. Until I blacked out. And then he had Berras put me out to sea. I woke up in a ship’s hold, the captain ten rish richer with the order not to return to London until his crew had set me right. I made it off that ship the first time it docked, with three lin in my pocket and a fair bit of magic in my veins, and no one to welcome me home, so no, I didn’t turn back. And that’s my fault. But I didn’t know what I meant to him.” He tore his gaze from the sea and met Kell’s eyes.
“I never wanted to leave,” he said. “And if I’d known Rhy loved me then as much as I love him, I would never have stayed away.”
They stood surrounded by the sea spray and the crack of sails.
For a long minute, neither spoke.
At last, Kell sighed. “I still can’t stand you.”
Alucard laughed with relief. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “The feeling’s mutual.”
With that, the captain left the Antari and made his way to his thief. Lenos had left her standing alone at the rail, and she was now using her blade to scrape dirt from beneath her nails, gaze trained on something distant.
“Coin for your thoughts, Bard.”
She glanced his way, and a smile touched the corner of her mouth.
“I never thought we’d never share a deck again.”
“Well, the world is full of surprises. And shadow kings. And curses. Coffee?” Alucard asked, offering the cup. She took one look at the brown sludge and said, “I’ll pass.”
“Don’t know what you’re missing, Bard.”
“Oh, I do. I made the mistake of trying some this morning.”
Alucard made a sour face and tipped the rest of the drink out over the side. Ilo was making the Spire’s usual cook look like a palace chef. “I need a real meal.”
“I’m sorry,” teased Lila, “when did someone exchange my stalwart captain for a whining noble?”
“When did someone exchange my best thief for a thorn in the ass?”
“Ah,” she said, “but I’ve always been one of those.”
Lila tipped her face toward the sun. Her hair was getting long, the dark strands brushing her shoulders, her glass eye winking in the crisp winter light.
“You love the sea,” he said.
“Don’t you?”
Alucard’s hand tightened on the rail. “I love pieces of it. The air on the open water, the energy of a crew working together, the chance for adventure and all that. But …” He sensed her attention sharpening, and stopped. For months they’d walked a careful line between outright lie and truth by omission, caught in a stalemate, neither willing to tip their hand. They’d doled out truths like precious currency, and only ever in trade.
Just now, he’d almost gone and told her something for free.
“But?” she prodded with a thief’s light touch.
“Do you ever get tired of running, Bard?”
She cocked her head. “No.”
Alucard’s gaze went to the horizon. “Then you haven’t left enough behind.”
A chill breeze cut through, and Lila crossed her arms on the rail and looked down at the water below. She frowned. “What is that?”
Something bobbed on the surface, a piece of driftwood. And then another. And another. The boards floated past in broken shards, the edges burned. An unpleasant chill went through Alucard.
The Ghost was sailing through the remains of a ship.
“That,” said Alucard, “is the work of Sea Serpents.”
Lila’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re talking about mercenaries and not giant ship-eating snakes.”
Alucard raised a brow. “Giant ship-eating snakes? Really?”
“What?” she challenged. “How am I supposed to know where to draw the line in this world?”
“You can draw it well before giant ship-eating snakes…. You see this, Jasta?” he called.
The captain squinted in the direction he was pointing. “I see it. Looks maybe a week old.”
“Not old enough,” muttered Alucard.
“You wanted the fastest route,” she called, turning back to the wheel as a large piece of hull floated past, part of the name still painted on its side.
“So what are they, then,” asked Lila, “these Sea Serpents?”
“Swords for hire. They sink their own ships right before they attack.”
“As a distraction?” asked Lila.
He shook his head. “A message. That they won’t be needing them anymore, that once they’re done killing everyone aboard and dumping the bodies in the sea, they’ll take their victims’ boat instead and sail away.”
“Huh,” said Lila.
“Exactly.”
“Seems like a waste of a perfectly good ship.”