Something shot through me like a bolt of lightning. My cheeks burned.
He trailed his hand down the towel. I inhaled, immobilized by the shock of his touch. Then he leaned in, and I knew he was going to kiss me.
I slapped him across the face.
His hand flew to his reddened cheek as if he couldn’t quite believe what I’d done. That second of wondering hesitation was all I needed.
I yanked my knife from its sheath, spinning out of his reach. By the time he recovered enough to react, I was behind him. I grasped a handful of his shirt and twisted, holding him in place.
And pressed the tip of my blade into his back.
We stood frozen in a silent, tense stalemate. I felt the erratic up-and-down movement as he tried to get control of his breath. I hoped my knife hand wasn’t shaking. The danger of my situation hit me all at once. He seemed sheltered and spoiled, but for all I knew it was an act. If he was lying about being a courier, he might be anyone.
“You realize I’m a lot stronger than you.” His voice was steady. “And trained in hand-to-hand fighting. I can break your arm before you know what’s happening. If I choose to.”
“You realize this is a knife,” I said right back, my heart racing at his threat. “I can gut you before you break my arm. If I choose to.”
“You won’t do it.”
“I’ve skinned half a thousand fish,” I said. “I’ll skin you.”
I couldn’t imagine doing anything of the kind, but I’d never had a boy just up and try to kiss me like that, as if he was entitled to it.
“You’re bluffing,” he said.
Of course I was, but what about him? I studied him, my gaze lingering on his arms. Yesterday when he helped me out of the dinghy, I’d noticed his surprising strength. He might be telling the truth about having combat training. Whether he’d ever been in an actual fight … I was more skeptical about that.
Should I confront him? Accuse him of lying? Alone with him here in the cabin, I suddenly didn’t feel safe. I almost resented him more for that than for lying to me. Cormorant was my home.
“Why did you do that?” I dug the point of the knife in.
“Ow! I thought you wanted to. You’re the one who came into my room. With no shirt on. And then you looked at me like—I had the impression—Well, everyone knows girls from the riverlands—” He stopped.
“Everyone knows girls from the riverlands what?” I poked harder with the blade, hoping my voice sounded dangerous.
“Never mind,” he muttered. “It wasn’t gracious.”
Damn right it wasn’t gracious.
I was beginning to rethink my position. While it was true that I had him at a disadvantage, I was pressed up against his back. I could smell his scent and feel the damp warmth rising off the skin of his neck.
“I can’t believe you thought I would—ugh!” I let him go, backing across the cabin.
“I’d heard the girls in the riverlands are more … experienced … than in Akhaia.” He reached his fingers under his shirt, rubbing them together to confirm I hadn’t cut him. “I guess not.”
“I’ve kissed a boy before, if that’s what you mean.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I didn’t have to explain myself to him.
“Then what are you so offended about?”
I held the towel to my chest. “Just because I’ve kissed someone else doesn’t mean I’m interested in you!”
From the way he stared, I could tell this idea had not occurred to him. “Saying no is a perfectly acceptable option,” he spit out. “One which falls rather short of pulling a blade on someone.”
“I’m taking you to Valonikos because I don’t have a choice,” I said. “Not because I like you.” He’d called me common, insulted Cormorant, and on top of that, now I was certain his story was a lie.
“I don’t want you to take me to Valonikos at all!” His lip twitched furiously. “Haven’t I been telling you that?”
I saw a guilty glint in his eye. “Why did you really try to kiss me?” I demanded.
“What?” He broke eye contact.
“You thought if you … you seduced me, I’d take you to Casteria, didn’t you?” He said nothing. “Didn’t you?”
“All right! I mean, that’s not—” He exhaled. “The thought crossed my mind, yes. When girls think they’re in love, they—”
“They what?” I brandished my knife.
“They are willing to do things they wouldn’t usually do.”
I shook my head in disbelief. He was disgusting.
“I—this—are the girls you know really that gullible?” I sputtered.
He eyed my damp trousers. “The girls I know are girls.”
The words dropped between us, and even he seemed to realize they were too much. He stuck his hand in his rumpled hair.
I turned and stormed out of the cabin. Snatching a dry shirt from the locker, I flung it over my head and slammed the door. Seeing the murderous look on my face, Fee scampered out of my way. In a fiery red haze, I paced back and forth among the fallen willow leaves that scattered the deck. I couldn’t imagine how Tarquin could get it so wrong. As if I’d been thinking of that.
The girls I know are girls. It stung because he didn’t know anything about me. When I visited my mother’s family in Siscema, I put my hair up and wore dresses. I went to revels and bonfires, gossiping with my cousins. And last summer, I’d fooled around with a sailor boy. I wasn’t naive enough to think it had been a great love affair or anything, but it had been fun. At least Akemé had made damn sure I wanted to kiss him first.
This couldn’t be more different. I didn’t trust Tarquin—and even if I did, he wasn’t my type at all. He was a snob, far too concerned with his own honor. And he didn’t know how to do anything. There was nothing attractive about a man who was almost helpless.
I was so deep in my thoughts, I heard Victorianos before I saw her. Her boom rattled as she came around the bend, and her ropes groaned and creaked. Men’s voices echoed across the still water. Not daring to move, I watched in silence through the curtain of willow leaves.
So they were hunting up and down the river for us. My head felt giddy and strangely weightless. Diric Melanos might’ve been a blackguard, but he was a skilled captain. It had to be tricky, maneuvering a fast cutter like that through all these twists and turns. Long after the cutter passed, bound downriver, my heartbeat still fluttered.
“Blessings in small things,” I whispered, wishing the river god would say something in return.
Dipping a bucket in the river, I rinsed the deck clean of debris. Willow leaves went splashing overboard in a satisfying waterfall. I stopped, focusing on the bucket in my hands.
I had an idea.
Refilling it, I strolled back to the cockpit. “Tarquin,” I called, leaning down the hatch. “Come here. I’ve got something for you.”
He approached cautiously. “I hope it’s an apology,” he said with a sniff.
I upended the bucket.