It was fully dark by the time the Barron had docked at Verose.
Stross and Vasry, who’d sobered a bit in the intervening hour, stumbled off the ship as if they were still drunk, and made their laughing way down the docks. They returned an hour later with a few more bottles of wine, and a count.
Nine.
That was the number of sailors aboard the Crow.
“You’re sure?” asked Lila. Vasry bobbed his head, and nearly lost his balance. Not so sober, then. She turned to Stross, who confirmed the tally.
“Nine,” he said, and she nodded, was already trying to decide how to dispatch them all, when Kell shot her a warning look. Lila sighed. Of course, he’d insist on keeping them alive.
“Nine were aboard the ship,” clarified Vasry. “But two set off for the cliffs.”
“And four left for the Red Robes,” added Stross. “I paid the hosts there to take their time.”
“That leaves three,” said Vasry.
“Yes,” said Lila dryly, “I can count.” She tapped her fingers on her sleeve as she played it out. Killing three men was easy enough. Not killing them was harder. Alucard’s orders weren’t to stop the ship, only to find out what it was carrying, which meant she needed time to search the hold. Stross would serve as watch, and diversion if need be. Tav was good for blunt force, and always game for a fight. And Kell, well, what was the point of sharpening a knife if you never let it cut?
“Vasry, Raya, you stay put,” she said.
“If you insist,” said Vasry, palming his wife’s waist. “This is meant to be a pleasure vessel. We’ll keep up appearances.”
“You keep wind in the sails,” she warned. “In case we need a quick break. And you,” she added, nodding at Raya. “Don’t let anyone touch my ship.”
She looked at Kell, then, who was tightening the holsters beneath his black coat. He met her gaze, and straightened, pulling the hood up until it hid his copper hair. Tav and Stross stood waiting, ready.
“Well then,” she said, spreading her arms. “Let’s go and say hello.”
* * *
Four people ambled down the Verose dock.
They looked like they’d come from a good time, and were on their way to find a better one. Lila smiled and tipped her head back, as if savoring the night. A few steps ahead, Tav laughed softly, as if Stross had just told a joke, though she didn’t think Stross had ever told a joke. Wasn’t sure he even knew one.
Beside her, Kell smelled like summer wine.
Before they’d left, she’d tipped the last of the ruined bottle into her palm and run it through his hair.
“At least it won’t be wasted,” she’d said, splashing him with the dregs.
Now his arm was slung around her shoulders and hers was wrapped around his waist, her narrow body tucked against him, and he half sang, half hummed a sea song into her hair.
“Who knew you were such an actor,” she said when he swayed, leaning his weight into hers. “Where did you learn this art?”
“You forget my brother’s reputation,” he said, lips brushing her temple. “I had plenty of time to study his form while I was dragging him home at dawn.”
“Always the keeper,” she mused with a sigh. “Never the kept.”
“Believe it or not,” he said, “I am capable of having a good time.”
She laughed, a buoyant sound that carried down the dock. “Capable, perhaps. Willing? Never.”
Their steps slowed as they neared the Crow.
Stross reached out to brace himself against the pale, wing-painted hull, as if he didn’t trust his legs to carry him on, simply needed a moment to rest. Tav slipped into the shadow along the ship and hauled himself up, dropping silently over the side onto the deck.
“We get in, we get out,” Kell reminded her. “We don’t cause a scene.”
Lila rolled her eyes. “Next you’ll say you want them unscathed.”
“Preferably, yes.”
She sighed. “So much for a good time.” As she said it, she pulled him into the shadow of the ship. Kell reached back to brace himself against the hull as Lila ran her hands down his front. Even in the dark, she could see him blush, before her fingers dipped into the pocket of his coat and drew out the small black shape. She leaned close enough to kiss him, and instead placed the mask on his face. It settled like a cool hand against his skin, and he smiled, a stranger’s smile, as Kell Maresh fell away like a coat.
VII
SOMEWHERE AT SEA SIX YEARS AGO
“Any day now,” said Lila, picking at her nails.
They were on the ship’s deck, the sails down and the tide still. The sun was just rising, and the night’s chill had yet to burn off, and the only mercy, as far as Kell could tell, was that she’d told the crew to make themselves scarce, though he assumed that they were watching from whatever perch they could find.
“Pointy end toward me,” she teased.
He glared, fingers tightening on the short sword in his hand.
Kell knew how to wield a blade.
He had been raised within the palace walls, with all the pretexts of a prince, but he was also raised to guard the royal family. More specifically, he’d been charged with Rhy’s protection. Rhy, who had no magic to arm himself, no power of his own to shield him. Rhy, who’d insisted on learning the sword, and so Kell had joined him as a sparring partner, until the prince was good enough to practice on the royal guards.
Kell knew how to hold a blade, and how to use it, and yet the weight of the steel in his hand felt odd, clunky. Far less elegant than the weapons he’d conjured out of wind and stone and ice.
Lila hopped down from the crate and spread her arms. “Come on, then.”
“You’re not armed.”
“Kell,” she said with a pitying grin. “I think you know me better than that.” Her fingers twitched in invitation. She had fought him once, back in Grey London, when he’d known her only as a thief, and she hadn’t known what magic was, let alone that she possessed it, and it had been her steel versus his spells. They had sparred more fiercely in the Essen Tasch, when he was pretending to be Kamerov Loste and she pretending to be Stasion Elsor, but that had been a game of magic, of fire and water and earth. A competition bound by rules.
Kell had never faced Delilah Bard like this.
He scanned the deck, taking in the ropes and boxes, the nets and nails, all the things he would have used as weapons once.
Now, all he had was the sword in his hand.
He marched toward Lila, expecting her to dodge back, retreat, but her boots stayed planted and her hands stayed wide, and the only part of her that moved was the corner of her mouth, which twitched in pleasure, right before he swung the blade at her head.
Steel against steel, the sound rang out across the deck.
Her hands had been empty the second before, but now a dagger flashed in one fist. His sword scraped free and he swung again, low and fast, a blow that should have carved a line across her ribs. But a second dagger appeared in her other hand, and she pinned the sword between her knives.
He freed himself and swung again, thinking she should have picked a longer blade, but instead of dodging back she lunged in, twisting around his sword and tucking herself against him like a lover as she brought one dagger up beneath his chin.
“Dead,” she whispered.
And then she danced backward, out of the embrace, and said, “Again.”
He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it out of his face, and readied himself, this time studying the way she balanced, turned her head to compensate for the lack of sight. If he could just— But this time she didn’t wait.
She struck first, vicious and quick, forcing him to retreat.