Page 51 of A Yulean Sister’s Guide to Getting Kidnapped

“Fine.” I turned around and used the hand that wasn’t holding me up to move my hair aside. I should have plaited it already.

“What am I meant to do?” he asked.

“I laced it most of the way up,” I said. “You just need to tighten it and tie the bottom. Easy.”

“So you say.” He pulled at the top, the strings softly rustling. I felt the bodice tighten, but not nearly to the point I normally wore them. Not everyone wore their corsets tight, but I tended to.

“You can pull it tighter,” I said.

“This is already very near your skin.”

“I normally wear it tight,” I retorted.

He gave it a slight bit more pull. Too loose.

“More,” I instructed.

“This is enough,” he smoothed his fingers over the strings, “I don’t know how you’ll breathe.”

“You get used to it,” I said.

“Well there’s no need. This is tight enough.”

I gave up on arguing and let him finish. It was good enough to stay up, so it was enough for me for now.

The knot he tied in the bottom was clearly not a bow like I was used to. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the straps tied into almost a ball.

“Is that all?” he said.

Though his tone was irritated, his hands stayed rested at the small of my back.

“It is,” I said, softer than I meant to.

He pulled his hands away, and I missed the touch for a moment. But that must have been because it’d been so long since I’d been touched. Normally, I didn’t go a week without ending up in someone’s bed.

I must just be lonely.

“Let’s go then.”

He led me further through the ship, past the laundry room I destroyed and a few other doors I hadn’t been inside of yet.

We were almost by his quarters, but stopped just short.

The door opened to a relatively large space for it being on a ship. Maps and charts littered the walls, some marked with pins and colored string. A chalkboard was the only blank space anywhere, and looked to be recently erased.

A large table took up the entire center of the room with a mountain of books, papers, inks, and quills scattered across it. Three empty chairs were awaiting. It looked like one of those meeting rooms I’d been closed out of growing up. While Sybil, and sometimes even Sorcha, was asked to attend, I was told it wasn’t important for me.

“What am I doing here?” I asked.

“Research,” he said. “Sit.”

I did as I was instructed, which I wasn’t normally good at, but there was something commanding about his voice, something that made me want to listen to him.

He lowered next to me, I noticed not taking up a chair. But it seemed he didn’t have to. He rested on his curled-up tail, leaning back in it like it was his own personal chair.

Shadowhart pulled one of the books closer to me, the stack towering high. Where did they get all of these books on a ship?

“Start here,” he said, gesturing to the stack. “Take any notes you find.”