Page 39 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

“There’s hot water,” Caspian said, propping himself up to look at me, his abdominal muscles rippling in an extremely distracting way. “For tea.”

“I can see that,” I said irritably, refusing to move from the door. “Why are you in the bed you’ve so graciously loaned me?”

“If you failed to notice,” Caspian said, groaning as he stood and flaring a wing gently as if it pained him, “we took on quite a few additional crew in Nordhavn. All of the empty berths are now occupied.” He approached me, hand held out expectantly. “The tea, Marina.”

“I can make it myself,” I protested as he plucked the bag of tea from my hands. “You must be joking.”

“I never joke about bed sharing,” he teased, turning to the kettle on the table. “And I hope you know by now that you’re safe with me,” he added, taking out one of the tea bags and pouring hot water into a cup. “That I don’t mind helping you.” He turned back to me, looking utterly sinful steeping the tea with his bare chest and feet and low-slung trousers. “And I won’t bite you, Urchin. Not unless you ask me to.”

Seas below. “You are insufferable,” I said, trying to still my racing heart. I grabbed my nightgown and strode purposefully into the bathing chamber, both to change and to gather my wits. I shouted through the door once it was safely locked, “And I won’t be sharing a bed with you. Ever.”

“Pity,” Caspian shouted back wryly, his tone betraying his mirth at my expense. “You’ll find the floor fucking uncomfortable.”

I grumbled to myself, making sure the parts about obstinate feathery beasts were loud enough that he could hear me. When I finally emerged, I was startled to see him standing directly in front of the door to the bathing chamber, porcelain teacup in hand.

“Unless there’s another siren’s bunk you’d prefer to share?” he purred suggestively, pressing the tea into my hands. His gaze lingered on my nightgown, which was modest enough, but felt like wearing nothing with his wall of perfectly sculpted golden chest before me. “I’m certain Astraios would still welcome a warm, soft body into his bed. He was staring at you quite a lot tonight.”

I narrowed my eyes, unsure if Caspian was being serious. “You’re either terribly jealous of Astraios,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest, “Or you’re being serious. That’s twice now you’ve suggested him to me.”

“Perhaps I’m serious,” Caspian suggested, giving me a heated look.

“Perhaps I should ask him then,” I said, trying to call his bluff. “Anything to avoid sharing withyou.”

“I dare you,” Caspian said, looking completely unfazed. I swallowed nervously, and he grinned, dropping his voice to a sultry purr. “I could always invite him to join us, if that’s more your style.”

“I hate you,” I snapped, taking the tea and sipping it as I leaned on the little table.

“No, you don’t,” Caspian said self-assuredly, reaching up to tap the pearl comb I’d forgotten in my hair. I could swear he breathed me in as he stepped closer, and all the fight went out of me in a rush of heat.

“Why can’t you take the floor?” I asked, swallowing a too-hot sip of tea and coughing like a sick animal.

Caspian clapped me on the back, and I scowled at him, which only made him grin wider.

“Because I’m still healing,” he said, gesturing to the feathers at his back and returning to the bed. I bristled as his feathers trailed over what I had begun to think of as my side of the bed, and I realized with a jolt that it was rather narrow, when you considered the wings.

“You look fine,” I said acerbically, sipping the tea. It was a strange but not unpleasant blend of flavors, some similar to my tea back home and others unfamiliar. There was peppermint, and a good dose of licorice, and a few other flavors I couldn’t figure out.

“I know,” Caspian drawled. He waggled his eyebrows, earning a scowl from me. He laughed, the rich sound filling the small cabin and surely carrying out to the deck. “That face, Princess. Relax. There’s room enough to share. I won’t invite Astraios, although he’ll be sorely disappointed, and I promise to keep my feathers to myself.”

“You had better,” I said stiffly, my stomach lurching as he reclined ostentatiously. “I have no desire to be smothered in my sleep by an overgrown seagull.”

“As much desire as I have to cuddle a prickly urchin, no doubt,” he replied, amusement and sarcasm lacing his words. “How devastated I will be when our time together comes to an end.”

I rolled my eyes, draining the teacup despite the scalding heat and replacing it on the table. The hot tea made me cough, my eyes watering as I covered my mouth with my arm.

“Did it not work?” Caspian asked, tone suddenly serious. He sat up, studying me with concern.

“Just went down too fast,” I rasped, waving him off as I made my way toward the empty side of the bed. “Stop trying to save me.”

“Too hard to dislike me if I behave honorably or kindly?” he asked, lying back down.

I didn’t reply. His words came a bit too close to the mark, and I didn’t need the Siren King taking advantage of my softening feelings. He was a politician. A soldier. He’d use my weakness to his advantage, no matter what desire he might feel for me.

But he hasn’t so far,that annoying mental voice told me. He hadn’t used my lungs against me. He had kept it private from everyone but Zephyr, and he hadn’t asked me or pushed me on it.

I climbed into the bed, sliding under the covers and choosing not to care that Caspian remained atop them to give us the illusion of distance. I pulled the comb from my hair and set it on the little ledge next to the bed, where it glinted faintly in the candlelight.

Caspian sighed, as if my silence was as irritating as my speech. “Get some sleep, Princess. With all the extra bodies on board, you’ll need to pull your weight with the crew tomorrow.”