“When we work together,” Niya replied in unison with her sisters.
“Indeed,” said Dolion. “Now, my flame, I hope you’re keeping your wits about you. Your head held high. Pirates, especially aboard the Crying Queen, are a slippery lot. They are ruthless and cunning, and while they can grow to be your friends, do not forget who their captain is. Lord Ezra is duplicitous, to be sure, and has a very, very long history of doing whatever it takes to get whatever he wants.”
“I know,” Niya couldn’t help muttering to the empty bedchamber.
“But you know this.” Dolion leaned back. “Just remind yourself often.”
“We love you, Niya,” said Larkyra, her gaze pained.
“Very much,” added Arabessa. “If Achak does end up crossing paths to give you this, force them to make another for us.”
“Oh! And the next time we are together,” Larkyra added, “remind me to tell you about Arabessa walking in on Zimri—ow! Father, did you see Ara just hit me?”
“You had a spider on you,” Arabessa said coolly.
“I like spiders,” said Larkyra, trying to slap Arabessa back.
Dolion pulled them apart. “See what happens when you leave, my flame?” He laughed, his arms bulging to restrain his daughters. “We all know these two only have ever enjoyed fighting with you.”
The echoes of their banter faded as the ball of smoke dissipated with the memory ending.
The room hung quiet.
“Niya?” a deep voice asked behind her.
Caught off guard, Niya stood. She hadn’t been paying attention to anything but the words and image of her family.
Alōs was by the door, regarding her from across the dimly lit room. His large form was wrapped in a finely sewn navy tunic and trousers, blue-and-green embroidery detailing the edges. He looked nothing like a nefarious pirate lord and everything like the prince he’d been born to be. The king he had been meant to become.
“Yes?” she asked, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes.
“I noticed you were lagging behind the others.” Alōs touched the marking on his wrist. “Came to see that you weren’t getting in your usual trouble.”
“Stupid leash,” muttered Niya, pulling her hands behind her, as though hiding her binding bet would momentarily remove its existence. “I’m coming,” she added louder, her voice overly bright. “Merely needed a few moments with my outfit.”
Alōs studied the space where her family had just been. When his eyes returned to her, they held questions. “Are you . . . all right?”
Niya blinked. Alōs never asked anyone, let alone her, such a thing. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
Alōs’s brows creased, his gaze making her believe he wanted to say something else, but he merely replied, “We’ll be making the switch tonight.”
A flutter in her stomach.
“I hope there’s more of a plan than that one statement.”
“There is.” Alōs glanced behind him, out the door to the sound of passersby. He slipped farther in, shutting it quietly. “At dinner I will be gifting the princess with a diadem, which out of decorum she will hopefully replace her current crown with for the remainder of the evening. Kintra is to follow where they take the crown with the Prism Stone and report back to us.”
Niya watched the pirate approach as he explained their plan. And though they’d been alone before, now that the door was shut, the air felt charged, dangerous. Niya became acutely aware that nothing but soft beds and lounges filled the space. The last time they had been alone in such an opulent bedchamber, Niya had given up her identity, her freedom. The memory had her muscles tensing, her walls of protection rising.
Fight. Her magic stirred silky in her heart.
“Much seems to be riding on propriety,” she pointed out, folding her arms over her chest.
“The diadem I’ll be presenting is rare and beautiful,” explained Alōs. “The people of the valley value these two traits more than any other. I have no doubt the princess will want to show it off.”
Niya pursed her lips, not knowing what else to say but, “Then it seems you and Kintra have everything under control. Are you sure you need me tonight?”
Alōs raised a brow as he came to a stop a few paces away. “The night has barely begun, and already you want to fight with me. Must I remind you that we are now on the same side, Niya?”
She scoffed. “The only side you are ever on is your own.”
“The same could be said of yourself,” he accused.
“Only because someone taught me long ago the consequences of trusting another.”
“Oh, come now.” He smiled. “It wasn’t that long ago.”
Niya’s grip on her arms tightened. Buuuurn, her magic sang to her. Burn him like he burned you.
“No cutting response?” Alōs stalked closer. “Something must be wrong.”
With wariness, she watched him approach, his contained power slowly wafting out, cool to the touch along her hot skin. His energy felt different tonight, languid, like it often was in the Thief Kingdom. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be on this side of his charms. She had become so used to the pirate captain, the stern commander. She preferred that version. It was easier to separate their past from their present when he was nothing but business.
“I am in no mood for your games,” she said.
“Niya—”
“Stop saying my name.”
“But you hate my nicknames,” Alōs pointed out. “Am I to call you thing, then?”
“Please stop.” Niya suddenly felt tired. She rubbed at the new throb along her temples.
“Stop what?” He was now directly in front of her, glowing blue eyes peering down.
“Stop doing whatever this is.” She gestured toward him. “You no longer hold my identity over my head. There is no more reason to tease and poke as you do. You do not need to pretend that you know me. I am merely part of your crew, and until all this is over, let us leave it at that.”
“It is not pretend,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “I do know you, fire dancer. Despite how you might hate it. I know you more than you probably know yourself.”
His words slithered uncomfortably along her skin. An echo of ones he had once begged of her in the past.
Let me know you, fire dancer.
Niya tipped her chin up, steadying the magic that continued to swim with threats in her gut. “Highly doubtful.”
“I know you despise corsets.”
“Every woman despises corsets.”
“I know you prefer night to day,” he continued, undeterred, “and can’t turn down a gamble. I know your vice for eating honey and apples after a performance. I know, above all else, you care for your family and wear a mask of indifference too large for your empathetic heart to handle. And those are merely the things I’ve gathered from watching you. Shall I share what I know from touching you?”
Niya sucked in a breath. “You bastard.”
“You’ve met my family,” countered Alōs with a sharp grin. “I am many things, but a bastard, you very well know, I am not.”
“Why do you do this?” asked Niya, her body thrumming with her mixture of growing rage and frustration. “Why do you hate me?”
He blinked, the question appearing to catch him off guard.
“From the moment we met,” she continued, “you have been scheming for the upper hand. And even after you get what you want, you still go out of your way to elicit my anger. Why?”
Alōs was quiet for a long while, so long Niya was about to leave when he finally responded. “I do not hate you.”
She laughed, the sound harsh to her ears. “Fine, whatever you say. But know I am done with it. Done with all of it. Our past, our present. And if you try to anger me in the future, I will not rise to it anymore. Do you understand? I am here to complete our bargain, and that is all. You have broken your plaything. Go find a new one.”