Page 21 of The Isles of the Gods
And at the same time, my heart’s beating like a drum in my chest for fear of what Rensa’s done. Our captain’s standing back at the wheel, and Kyri’s near her, rising now from the shrine.
I’m still in the bow, looking out past the figurehead and thebowsprit, though I only know where the horizon is because the stars stop, giving way to inky black water. I curl my hands around the wood of the railing—my gloves cover the backs of my hands, but my fingers are mostly free—and the worn grain of the timber beneath my touch is a familiar anchor on a night when everything has gone wrong.
Besides Rensa, Kyri, and me, there are three more crew—so six in total, of what should be ten.
Abri will be up the mast, no doubt, and the twins have finished with the sails, though how they did it with just the pair of them I don’t know.
I wonder what the four we left behind will do when, sometime before dawn, they find an empty space where their ship used to be. Rensa’s words still sting—Idothink of what it’ll mean for them. What they’ll do for pay, where they’ll find to sleep.
I would have asked those questions myself, without her to remind me.
There’s a flash of movement above as Abri comes climbing down, and I head to meet her as she reaches the deck, her face looming pale and white in the dark. Though she’s not short on curves, and looks soft and round, she’s as strong as any sailor. She always has a smile ready—but just now her features are drawn, worried.
“Not a light in sight except for Kirkpool disappearing,” she reports. “We’re on our own out here.”
“Or whoever we’re hiding from doesn’t have lights either.”
She grimaces, and without another word we make our way to the stern, to hear what Rensa has to say. To hear what this boy has to say—what excuse he has for whatever he’s draggedus into. Jonlon and Conor drop almost soundlessly from their perches and fall into step with us.
Rensa’s lighting a lantern, keeping the shield around it so the glow stays dim, but it’s still enough to get a better view of him. And now he’s ruined my last chance at happiness, I’m taking a much closer look at this boy.
My first thought is that it simply isn’t fair for someone to look like this. He’s about my age, but that’s where our similarities end. I’m blond, fair-skinned, covered in freckles. He has black hair and strong brows, sandstone-brown skin, and an easy smile. His mouth is made for smirking, eyes ready to crease at the corners.
His breeding’s in his face, and his fortune’s in his clothes, though he’s shed his fine peacoat, dumping it on the deck near the shrine and rolling up his sleeves to reveal those strong forearms and the intricate magician’s marks I saw earlier.
I glance up from his lips and find he’s watching me look him over. He lifts one brow, amused, and I instinctively narrow my eyes at him. He doesn’t seem bothered.
Rensa’s voice breaks the moment, and we both turn to where she stands by the lantern. “I thank you all for your quick work tonight. Let me say first, I know we’ve left four crew behind, and I’m sorry for it. Someone will be waiting for them when they make it back to the dock, and they’ll be taken care of. We couldn’t risk doing anything out of the ordinary, and keeping everyone aboard might have been noticed.” She glances around at us. “Let me say second, we’ve come by this work because Stanton Walker’s fleet has a reputation for keeping our bargains.”
There’s nowaymy father would have agreed to somethinglike this—he’d never have allowed us to be pulled into whatever mess we’re now tangled up in. My jaw clenches, and I glance around the crew, but they’re all staring at the newcomer.
“TheLizabettais proud to uphold the Walker standard,” Rensa continues. “As well as being reliable, she’s fast, she’s quiet, and she doesn’t draw attention. All this is what caught the eye of Her Majesty.”
“HerMajesty,” Jonlon gasps, definitely speaking for all of us. I think Abri’s mumbling a prayer. Conor flicks me a look that says he’s no happier about this than I am.
“What doeshehave to do with the queen?” I burst out, and the fool boy grins at me like I’ve said something entertaining.
“No offense,” Abri tacks on quickly, practically batting her lashes at him, and she winces when I scowl at her.
“Heis the queen’s brother, Prince Leander,” Rensa replies simply.
For a moment there’s not a sound, save the wind and the sea and my heartbeat in my ears. I’m trying to make myself understand what she’s saying, but I keep coming up short.
I knew he wasn’t just a servant, but the prince himself? Perhaps he’s an impostor. If he’s the prince, why was he skulking behind…
My mind chooses this moment to present me with a list of the various insults I leveled at him. Goddess, why can’t I keep my mouth closed? Then again, I stand by what I said.
Everything useless around here is beautifully decorated. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.
And then I tucked a flower behind his ear.
Spirits save me.
“I received a message from the queen this afternoon, andthe decision was made quickly,” Rensa is saying. “On short notice, to reduce the chance of word getting out. We’ve set a course for the Isles of the Gods. His Highness has business there.”
The Isles of the Gods.
A group of islands not marked on any map, each home to a sacred temple to one of the gods, or to the Mother herself. It’s forbidden to set foot on them—even if a ship’s lookout spotted them, nobody would ever consider landing there.
