Riden knows where to stroke my skin to make me feel more alive. He has me practically panting under the pressure of his lips. I gasp when his teeth nip at the skin above my throat.
Riden lowers me back onto the bed. I reach for the base of his shirt and pull it up. He helps me get it over his head before discarding it to the floor. But I take careful note of exactly where it lands. Hidden pockets can be sewn anywhere.
The plan was to give Riden a little of what he wanted. To make him less frustrated. So he’d want to sleep. I can see now how this might not have been the best plan. Maybe it wasn’t even a real plan, just my way of justifying kissing him again.
At least I’ll have fewer articles of clothing to remove once he’s out. Men are heavy.
But what am I to do about what’s happening now?
Riden fingers the string that laces the side of my corset. While he’s not undoing it, the action is driving me mad. Does he realize this? He can’t be doing it offhandedly. He’s far too devious for that.
My stomach burns with excitement. My mind battles against it.
Draxen’s knocked out. You don’t have much time.
But Riden’s hands are so soft and warm. I don’t want him to stop touching me.
You need to find the map now. Think of what Father’ll do to you if you fail.
But the thought of Riden’s lips makes me salivate. I could stay in his arms forever.
Alosa, have you forgotten your desire to become the queen of pirates? There’s an island filled with treasure out there. Get the map and everything will fall into place.
Right. Blast it.
This’ll be the most reckless thing I’ve done since coming to this ship. But I need to act before Draxen wakes and before I get lost in the moment.
There’s so very little left, but it’ll have to do.
I let out a song. One single note. It’s all I have.
But luckily for me, Riden is already so very much in tune with me. He topples over onto the bed. Out in an instant. There’s no way that’ll last long. There was hardly anything in it.
My breath is still traveling faster than the wind. That was very stupid. While I had enough song to put Riden to sleep, there was none left to make him forget. He’ll remember me singing to him.
But once I have the map, I can be off this ship, and it won’t matter. Father will take possession of the Night Farer and kill everyone on board. There will be no one left to tell.
A wooden plank creaks. My eyes dart toward the door, but I shake my head and quickly look away. The ship is old. Wood creaks.
Though I’m pressed for time, I have to take a few seconds to breathe. My heart pounds at an impossible pace.
Eventually, I check his coat and shirt, running my fingers over the material several times. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or not when I know for sure it’s not in either of them.
Because that leaves his boots, leggings.
And breeches.
It’s not like Riden wasn’t hoping he’d get these off anyway.
I hurry with the rest of it, but unlike with Draxen, I don’t take so many pains to avert my eyes. I’ve been stuck on this ship for quite a while. It’s the least I deserve.
The novelty wears off quickly once the unavoidable conclusion sinks in.
The map’s not here.
Wrong again.
Blast, where else could it be? I’ve checked just about everything. Draxen wouldn’t have hidden it somewhere on land. There’s too great a chance of losing it or forgetting where he’s placed it. No one makes a map to find a map.
I try to take deep breaths, but I have to turn away from Riden’s naked form in order to do that successfully.
Now then, Father can hardly fault me if the map simply isn’t here to begin with?
But I know better than that. He’ll blame whoever he can get his hands on. Which’ll be me, once I deliver him the news. Who knows what it’ll be this time. Locked in a cell for a month. Flogged daily in the strip. No meals for a week.
It’s not my fault. The map is nowhere on this ship.
Nowhere on this ship.
On it.
My mind turns and tosses. Yes, I’ve checked everywhere on the ship.
But what about on the outside of the ship?
Chapter 15
HOW MANY REALIZATIONS CAN a person have before one actually proves to be right?
I close my eyes as I try to remember what the Night Farer looks like from the outside.
Sixty feet long. Made with a combination of oak and cedar wood. Three sails. Rounded stern. But these are not what interest me.
The bowsprit extends twenty feet in front of the ship. Below it, carved out of the same mixture of wood, is the figure of a larger-than-life-sized woman. She’s beautiful, with long flowing hair and big glassy eyes—probably made from actual glass. But it’s the dress that leads me to believe that the girl is supposed to be a siren.
She’s wearing a long dress that’s made to look as though it’s rippling underwater. She appears weightless, too, by the way her legs are unattached to the boat, hanging above the water. She is connected only by her back.
I feel as though the entire future rests in my hands as I hurry from Riden’s room. I scurry about the ship, finding myself a long sturdy rope. Using a bowline knot, I attach it to the railing at the bow of the ship.
Effortlessly, I lower myself down and hang right in front of the siren’s large face. My wrists are mostly healed from hanging in front of the pirates for an entire day. They trouble me little now. Besides, I’m more concerned with finding this map and doing it quickly. A little pain now will be nothing compared to what could happen should I fail.
I move my hands over the wood that makes up her skin, looking for any hidden slots, trick buttons, or anything else that might be concealed in the wood. I feel an indent at the top of her hairline, but that turns out to be just a groove in the wood. But my heart raced at the possibility of it. Then it crashes as that proves to be useless as well.
Was Jeskor’s line careless? Did they lose their map over the centuries? Riden did say his father grew to be sloppy. Maybe he gambled the map away. That would make it nearly impossible to find.
I can hear light footsteps up on deck, but that is likely just the watch. I had to slip past them on my way down here.
How can all this have been for nothing? I’ve been kidnapped, questioned, tortured, and reduced to playing horribly demeaning roles to get what I want.
I’m so furious, the rope I cling to starts swaying. My body is tight, occasionally rocking as I lurch with frustration.
What was that?
I swear I caught a glint of something in her eye. Leaning forward, I cause the rope to swing again.
There it is again. Her left eye. It looks darker than the right from this angle.
I can feel my blood pounding under my skin. My heart beating in my head. I reach down to grab a lower end of the rope. I wrap it around my foot several times and then hold the end under my chin. I’ll need both hands for this.
My dagger is still in my boot. Riden has not once asked me for it. He must have forgotten about it.