Page 23 of The Isles of the Gods
“I thought you were supposed to be trimming the sails,” I mutter.
“Conor thinks he’s handsome too,” she replies, ignoring me.
“Then you three can talk about it,” I reply, pulling my arm free of Abri’s.
“He said his sister and he are grateful to us,” Abri muses,snapping back to her previous dreaminess like I never took the wind out of her sails. “That’sQueen Augustahe’s talking about. Grateful tous!”
“Queen Augusta doesn’t know who you are,” I point out, and Kyri jabs me in the ribs.
“I saw him wink at you,” she says. “You’re seriously saying you don’t want to wink back?”
“I’m seriously saying…” But there I stop, because anything more will give away what I was planning. What’s lost to me now.
I wasthis closeto getting out from under Rensa’s thumb. Instead, it’ll be months before I have another chance to jump ship and head north.
And now theLizabettais sailing in the dark for a place nobody ever goes, searching for danger in a temple nobody’s been to in years. All because of Prince Leander. It’s like an adventure story. Does Rensa think this can work, or was there no way to refuse the queen?
Everyone knows Alinor and Mellacea are creeping closer to the edge of a cliff. Ships at both countries’ ports are landed with new taxes, searches, and confiscations every day. Whispers are traveling on the wind about a coming war—and it’s not the kind of thing a pilgrimage to an island temple in the middle of nowhere can save us from.
If the royal family thinks invoking a goddess is going to scare off Mellacea’s navy, then everyone’s in a lot more trouble than I thought, because that’s not any prayer I’ve ever heard of.
There’s something about this I’m not understanding…but I think I know who might.
KEEGAN
TheLizabetta
The Crescent Sea
I force myself to breathe as I make my way along the narrow passageway. One of the sailors told me earlier to keep one hand on the wall once we were under way, in case the ship rolled unexpectedly, but that’s hardly what I’m steadying myself against now.
The conversation on the deck broke up a few moments ago, and I’ve slipped back belowdecks unseen. I became adept at eavesdropping the last few weeks at my family’s home, but though I’ve heard much unpleasant news, this moves to the top of the list by a comfortable margin.
I can see now why the captain tried so hard to convince me to take passage elsewhere this afternoon, only a few hours after welcoming me aboard. That must have been when she accepted this mission.
“I’m sorry for your trouble,” she said, scowling at me as though I were the cause of her trouble, when she’d been politeenough as she showed me my cabin and watched me stow my things. “But our plans have changed, and we won’t have the space for you after all.”
“Captain,” I replied, drawing myself up in imitation of my father, “you demonstrablydohave space for me, as I am occupying it at this very moment.”
There were no circumstances under which I was permitting her to deposit me back on the dock—I had only just reached Kirkpool ahead of my father’s steward, and my one chance of staying that way was to hide belowdecks and hope he couldn’t find my trail before theLizabettadeparted. Standing back on the dock with my trunks around me was the opposite of what I needed to do.
“Young man,” she began, and as her tone firmed, I knew I could let her get no further. The longer this argument continued, the greater her chance of remembering she could simply assert her authority aboard her own ship.
“Captain Rensa,” I replied, making myself sound just as stern. “Let me be clear. You have accepted my money, and you have taken me aboard. If you throw me off now, I will waste no time in telling all of Kirkpool you abandon your business partners for better offers.”
Her steely gaze locked onto me, and I thought at the time I had hit a nerve.
Now I realize this would have drawn exactly the sort of attention she couldn’t afford, if she’d just been recruited to a secret mission.
I only wish she’d stuck to her guns.
I’d prefer the prince’s and my paths never crossed again, but I know he’ll spot me eventually, and I’ll have to talk to him,and gods, share a meal with him. Just now, even putting off that meeting by a few hours is desirable.
I need to calm myself, collect myself, and then hide in my room—my cabin, rather—and hope he forgets me as often as possible.
Of all the things to happen, and of all thetimesfor it to happen, when I wassovery close to making my escape.
I push the little wooden door open, slip inside, and wedge it firmly closed behind me. The space is small but sensibly constructed. A bunk is built into the wall, made up with a thick quilt that smells a little musty, though not unpleasant. A bracket is set into the floor beneath the porthole and provides a place for my trunk to sit without risk of sliding about. A small table and chair are nailed to the floor. The lamp, which I left lit, swings from a hook in the ceiling.
