“So …,” Nydus says after a minute, “am I really the only person who wants answers about the folks with the creepy blue eyes? What do you know about it, Captain Veshtas?”
“That is a question without a simple answer.”
“Well, Nydus isn’t about to understand it, then,” Shura says.
Nydus glares at her.
“I will say this,” I say. “There is a being on this island with the power to control the dead. He is not on our side, and we should be wary of him and his army.”
“If he isn’t friendly to us, then why did the Blue-Eyes listen to you?” Nydus asks.
Shura smacks him. “If the captain wants you to know something, she’ll let you know. Stop asking questions about the natives.”
I silently thank her for that.
“Apologies, Captain,” Nydus says. “You have our deepest thanks for the rescue. Tell us about your ship. Is she large? Enough room for us all?”
“If not, we can always put Nydus in the brig,” Shura offers.
I say, “There will be room for everyone when we leave. No one is getting left behind, though surely the most annoying among you will be the first on my list for staying should that change.”
That finally shuts up the lad.
I AM CONFLICTED WHEN I find that my crew has remained in the same location since Threydan carried me off. On the one hand, I should be furious they did not seek a new hiding spot when this one had clearly been compromised. On the other, I am touched that they would remain so I could easily find them again. As though they didn’t doubt for a second that I would find a way back to them. I don’t know that I deserve such faith after the turns this journey has taken.
Once we’re spotted, a shout goes up from the treetops. I hate that this is becoming far too familiar. Me being gone and then showing up unexpectedly when some of the crew must surely expect I’m already dead.
Dimella is there first. She sees me, shakes her head in astonishment, then grabs me gently by the bicep. She looks me up and down, as though barely daring to assume I’m alive.
“How?” she asks.
“Believe it or not, I talked my way out of this one.”
“Impressive. And am I correct in assuming this is the missing crew of the Wanderer?”
“Aye.”
“Damn, Captain. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Don’t be too impressed. That dead arsehole is the one who told me where to find them.”
“Why would he help us?”
I clench my teeth. “Because he wants me to like him. Turns out he can’t complete the ritual unless I’m willing.”
“That’s messed up.”
“You don’t need to tell me. How’s the little one?”
“Sorinda!”
As though I summoned her, Roslyn barrels toward me. She jumps at the last second so I have no choice but to catch her. She presses her cheek against mine and squeezes her little arms around my neck.
“You need to stop leaving,” she says between tears.
“I’m hopeful that was the last time.”
I let my hand slide down the back of her hair, comforting her in the way I’ve seen Wallov do before. It seems to do the trick.
“Dimella, can you see to our new crew members?”
“Aye.”
Still holding Roslyn, I step closer to my first mate and say, “Keep a sharp eye on the two in the rear.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Sorinda?”
At the deep voice, I turn my head toward the direction we just came from. Kearan stands wrapped in furs. He’s got an ax hanging off his belt and a load of wood held in his arms. His hair sticks to his forehead in an unruly mess from the exertion.
We stare at each other.
That single ball of warmth within my chest flares so violently, it’s a wonder that I do not catch flame and go up in smoke.
Kearan drops his load of wood on the ground and takes the remaining steps to reach me. I think I lost my breath sometime right after he dropped the wood.
“Right, now if you’ll all just follow me,” Dimella says with an awkward lilt to her voice, “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew and get you all settled.”
They pass us by, and I barely even notice. And wasn’t I holding Roslyn a second ago? How did she manage to shimmy out of my arms without me realizing?
“You’re alive,” Kearan says, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it before.
“For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“He gave me three days. After that, he’s coming for me.”
Kearan looks over my shoulder. “You found Alosa’s missing girls. We’ll figure out a way off this island before he comes.”
I wince.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I need to talk to you.” I look around at the crew, practically bouncing on their feet, wanting to have their turn to welcome me back. Again. “Alone.”
I grab his arm and haul him off a ways from camp. Only when we are out of sight of everyone do I realize I’m touching him and quickly release his arm.
My eyes do a sweep of the area, slower than usual. “We don’t know who might be listening. I’ve long suspected that he can see as well as hear through the dead.”
Kearan tilts his head down toward me so his lips nearly brush my ear. “Then perhaps we should whisper?”
A shiver goes through my whole body, and there’s no masking it as a reaction to the cold when we both know I no longer feel it.
I take a step back. “Not for this part.”
He cocks his head to the side. “What part is that?”
I swallow. Discomfort swirls within my gut. I swear it’s more pronounced than anything else since there’s literally nothing else to feel down there.
There’s nothing for it except to get the stupid words out.
“The King of the Undersea let me go on one condition,” I say in a slightly louder than usual tone so any undead who might be listening can hear clearly.
Kearan looks worried. “And what was that?”
“I’m to inform you that there is no hope for a future relationship between the two of us. Threydan will not suffer any competition for my affections. He made it very clear that you would not be long for this world should I refuse this stipulation or should you not agree to it.”
I pause there, waiting for Kearan’s reaction. His face doesn’t change at all. In fact, he’s gone rather still.
“I tried to assure him that you have no interest in me,” I continue. “You’ve made it clear many times, and I find it ridiculous that Threydan can’t see that for himself since he’s been privy to some of my memories.”
At that, Kearan blinks. “What?”
“I know, I thought it ridiculous, too, but—”
“No, I mean what is this nonsense about him seeing your memories?”
I look down to the ground, unable to bear his scrutiny while I share this part. “When I stabbed him, I … formed a connection between us. It flares up randomly, or rather when something jogs a certain memory. He’s seen parts of my past, and clearly some of the parts with you in it.”