Page 57 of The Isles of the Gods
“Yes. And when that didn’t work, I was going to sneak aboard that night. They’d have found me before we made Holbard, but it would have been too late to turn back.”
His brows lift, and his mouth quirks to a half smile. “You were going to run away?”
“I’d have made it, too, if the dock hadn’t been swarmingwith Queensguard.” And then I pause. “When you said, ‘Looks like they’ve lost something’…it was you. The Queensguard were looking foryou.”
“But I was hiding on top of a stack of crates with a girl I’d just met, learning about all my personality flaws,” he agrees, with another small smile. “They were furious when they finally found me.”
“If I’d made it onto theFreya,Rensa would have been just as—” The words die in my throat as I remember all over again. It’s like being punched in the stomach.
I’ve always liked conversations on the dawn watch. The world is quiet, the morning shiny and new, and it’s so easy to feel like yours is the only ship in the world and you’re the only two souls aboard her. Now I’d give anything for a loud, crowded harbor.
“What about your mother?” Leander asks, trying to divert me. “Is she up north with your father?”
“My mother’s an actress from Trallia. She and my father were never together—they just…had fun, Da always said. When he was ashore. After I was born, she gave me to him, and he raised me aboard theLizabetta,his first ship.”
He lets out a slow, sympathetic breath for the home I left far in our wake. “My mother’s more interested in parties than parenting—acting as regent took up everything she had—but at least she was mostly in the same palace as me. Your father’s fleet is bigger now, I take it?”
“Yes, he’s on his newest, theFortune.He sailed up to negotiate new trade routes and decided to winter in Holbard, keep working on it. He has no idea any of this is happening—noidea Rensa accepted the commission. He left me with her for a year to learn the trade.”
“And were you learning?”
“Not as much as I wish I had. Not as much as she was trying to teach me. We didn’t get along, Rensa and I. But if she’d thought for a moment this job was dangerous, she’d have left me ashore.” My throat threatens to close, and I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, settling myself. “That’s what keeps coming back to me. She’d have left me behind if she’d thought there was any danger. But she didn’t. She thought we were safe.”
And then silence falls between us again.
“Will it work?” I ask, clearing my throat. “Can a goddess protect us? I know it’s different in the old stories. Keegan told me some of them—he said it’s true the gods were really here, back then. That they fought in wars, and created Messengers with special, magical powers. But that was centuries ago.”
“Barrica is still here,” he replies quietly. “Not like she used to be, not in a way that means she could sit in this boat with us. But she’s more present than any of the others, because she stayed as Sentinel, to watch Macean. And I don’tbelievethat, Selly. Iknowit. The journal I showed you is one in a long line, and they all hold accounts of my family’s journeys to the Isles. They aren’t old stories, they’reourstories.”
“And what’s written in there says she’s still keeping an eye on things?”
“Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s different for me when I pray. My family has a connection to her. We don’t talk, not in words, but she’s…she’s there. She’s present.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask softly.
“Trust me, you can’t miss it. She’s…” He lowers his voice, as if that might keep our goddess from hearing. “She reminds me of my sister Augusta. Imposing.”
“I can’t imagine,” I admit. “Knowing a goddess or a queen.”
“I think both of them would like you,” he says quietly. “Selly, I promise I’ll do this. Get me to Port Naranda and I can find the ambassador. Nothing will stop me from making it to the Isles.”
“Nothing will stop you,” I agree, and I know from his face we’re both thinking of the price that’s been paid to get him even this far. “If I have to sail you there myself.”
Silently, Leander rests one of his hands over mine where I grip the tiller. I realize my knuckles are aching—and that his touch is easing that sensation as the warmth of his skin leaches into mine.
Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze, something shimmering in the air between us. I feel my cheeks heat, but I can’t look away, or don’t want to. Then one corner of his mouth tugs up in a hint of a smile, and my instincts kick in.
“I’m only letting you do that because my hands are cold,” I mutter.
“Of course,” he agrees, soft.
But he leaves his hand there even as the pain in my knuckles slowly fades away and my fingers grow warm beneath his.
And as the sun continues to climb toward her zenith, I let him.
—
“Teach me to steer the boat,” he says, perhaps an hour later. “If Keegan already had his lesson, we can manage it togetherwhile you get a few more hours of sleep. How are you using that thing?”
