“Dance with me.”
My neck turns so quickly in Riden’s direction that I actually hear it crack. “What?”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
He grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet before I can refuse, which of course I was intending to do.
I’m sure of it.
It’s too late now because he’s already moving me in circles. To refuse him now would only cause a scene. Besides, the crew is cheering. Wallov, Deros, and Enwen grab new partners and join us. My movements are stiff, hesitant. I can feel my mind and body warring for dominance. There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea. Not to mention I have too many things to worry about to even attempt to enjoy myself.
“Come now, princess,” Riden says. “Surely you can do better than that.”
I shouldn’t let him goad me, but I often can’t help responding when I’ve been issued a challenge. And I do love dancing. My mother is a siren, after all. Music is in my blood.
I feel the music waft over my skin and move to help it along. I caress it with my hands, sashay around it with my hips, tread lightly over it with my feet. I make Riden follow me and my steps, but occasionally he forgets himself, stopping completely and watching me, caught up in my movements. He catches himself and starts to dance again. He’s not bad at all. He stomps his feet in time. His twists and turns are sure and even graceful. Each time we come into contact—our hands, our arms, the brush of our knees—the dance grows more exciting, more electric. I am charged like storm clouds—it’s ten times stronger than what I feel when I use my siren abilities. And different. Something decidedly human.
I see the way Riden behaves around me: the focus and heat in his eyes, the way his hands linger, the way he positions his body next to mine. Normally, I would know exactly what it means. But then I remember yet again that he is my prisoner. He will say and do anything if he thinks it will help his cause.
The song finishes. Haeli starts up another, but I take my leave. “Go on, then!” I shout to the crew. “Continue into the night, but I’m off to bed.” I smile at the happy faces. They’re reddened with the joy that comes from a successful plunder.
I head for the stairs, certain I won’t actually be able to sleep with all the weight burdening me, but needing to get away nonetheless. I remind myself as I go, Riden is my captive, Riden is my captive, Riden is my captive.
Someone grabs my hand and pulls me under the companionway. Out of sight and into shadow.
An equal surge of excitement and dread hits me before I even see his face.
“Alosa,” Riden says as he takes my hands in his and presses me gently against the wall.
He leans in, and I ask, “What?” As though he were about to ask me a question instead of saying my name aloud simply for the pleasure of hearing it roll off his tongue.
“You dance beautifully,” he says, and I feel his nose sidle up next to mine. My eyes have already closed.
Damn, but he smells good. Like the coconut soap we have on the ship mixed with an earthy musk that belongs solely to him.
It would be easy to let him kiss me. Maddeningly easy.
But he wants his brother freed. He wants his own freedom. Any intimacy between us is deliberate on Riden’s part.
It has to be.
“Good night, Riden,” I say, dropping his hands. But as I pass him by, I kiss his cheek.
Once I get to my room, I chide myself for such a childish move.
But what scares me most is that I almost could not help it.
Chapter 4
FROM THE OUTSIDE, there is nothing remarkable about the keep. It looks like any other small island in the groupings located far northeast of Lycon’s Peak.
But the king’s pirates recognize it for what it is.
The island has many lips and jutting trenches, a maze built of water and land. One must steer a careful course so as not to beach one’s ship. The sea flows right into a series of caves that house the separate ships of the fleet. Their numbers range to about fifty now.
Niridia directs us up to the dock. Haeli and the other riggers tie down the sails while Lotiya, Deshel, and Athella secure the docking lines. The gangplank is lowered.
“Send Wallov and Deros to bring up Vordan,” I tell Niridia. “And have Mandsy tail Riden like a shark on a blood trail.”
“Of all the women on this ship, I wouldn’t say Mandsy most resembles a shark,” a voice says from behind me.
For the last few days of the journey, Riden was required to stay belowdecks so he wouldn’t learn the exact location of the keep. I hadn’t expected Mandsy to let him back up top so quickly.
“And I suppose I would have that happy privilege?” I ask him.
“No, it’s those vicious sisters. I can’t say which one is worse. Deshel thinks my lap is a chair, and Lotiya has her fingers in my hair as if it were a glove for her to don.”
It pleases me beyond words to know he’s frustrated by their advances. I say, “I thought you enjoyed female companionship. Living on a ship full of women should be a dream come true for you.”
He stares at me as though his gaze should hold some deeper meaning, but I don’t see it. And he’s forbidden me to use my abilities on him.
“I’m not a mind reader, Riden. So spit out whatever it is you want to say.”
Eventually, he says, “Their attention is unwanted.”
“Then tell them that.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried!”
“If you’re looking for sympathy, go find Mandsy.”
He glares at me. “Sympathy is not what I want from you, Alosa.”
Before I can even begin to guess what he means by that, he storms off. Niridia shows up with Mandsy in tow. I just point in Riden’s direction.
Mandsy, her brown hair in two braids over her shoulders, follows him.
“Careful,” I shout after her. “He’s in a mood.”
“I’ve just the thing for that,” Mandsy says.
“And what would that be?”
“Sewing. Nothing like working with your hands to relax your mind.”
Mandsy is a godsend. She heals, she sews, and she fights. Knowing where every major organ is located on a person makes her a most efficient fighter. She’s patched me and the crew up time and time again. Many of them owe her their lives. I wish I had ten more of her. I’d even take the excessive optimism that comes with her.
“I wouldn’t give that one something so pointy as a needle,” I say.
“I’ll take my chances.”
Wallov and Deros both come up top, each gripping one of Vordan’s arms firmly. He’s wriggling in their grasp, but no single man is a match for their joined strength. Vordan shouldn’t even bother, injured as he is.
“You’re handing me over to Kalligan?” Vordan asks.
“You’re to stay in the keep’s dungeon for safekeeping until I decide what to do with you.”
“Have you forgotten our little chat already? You need me. I—”
“You can go to the dungeons standing or we can get out the cage again. Your choice.”
Wisely, he shuts his mouth.