Page 45 of A Spell of Bones and Madness (Nostos #2)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ander

W aves slapped against the hull, salty spray flying over the gunwale.

Two harpoons were latched to the bow of the skiff, wooden fishing poles with horsehair line lay on the floor boards.

Fish heads filled a worn wooden barrel nailed to the transom, providing a foul stench that clung to Ander’s nostrils.

The smell never bothered him, despite the pungent aromas of guts and copper tang of blood.

Leighton, on the other hand, always wrinkled his nose as they emptied the bait into the barrel.

“There is something I must tell you, brother, though I regret not having our discussion on solid ground.” Alexander faced his friend in the small skiff .

“And why is that, Ander? Afraid I might push you off and use you as bait?” Leighton chuckled.

Gods, he really should have done this on the shore, where either he or Leighton could escape.

It pained Ander that it had taken him this long to tell his friend.

But was it really something that deserved to be blurted out as soon as his feet hit the deck of The Nostos ?

No—Leighton deserved to hear it when he was alone.

When he could process what Ander was about to tell him without the prying eyes of the crew or court.

“That I am. It is about your sister,” Ander began.

Leighton stiffened, gripping the rails of the skiff. “What about Ileana?”

Letting out a tempered breath, Ander continued. “When I was in Alentus, I was told she was alive.”

Softening his grip, Leighton extended his hand to Ander. “I have long come to terms with what happened to her. You do not need to give me hope for something to fight for. Ileana may be dead, but that is more reason to fight, brother. I believe in the cause all the same.”

Ander’s shoulder’s sank as he sighed. “It is not hope, Leighton. Katrin confirmed it. Your sister is alive. Married to our enemy.”

Eyes widening, a vein in Leighton’s neck pulsed. “And you trust that Katrin knows what she saw?”

“You are asking if she can be trusted after everything she did to save me?” Ander had to keep his temper under control. This was not about him or his feelings, it was about his friend and his friend alone.

“I would never question Katrin’s loyalty, only that she’s never met Ileana. How can she be sure?” Leighton asked .

“She said she recognized her eyes—your eyes—before your sister even said her name, and that she had a thick choker around her neck. It could explain…well, what you thought happened to her. That she seemed afraid of Edmund, but that he kept her close like she was a prize, a pet he had won.”

For a long moment, Leighton paused, opening his mouth to speak then reconsidering. He did this several times, hands shaking as he searched for what words to say.

“Then it is even more imperative that we fight. For the sacrifices my family has made. For our people. We will fight and we will find her and bring her home. That is our way.” Leighton looked out at the unending seas before them, his eyes sunk and jaw rigid.

“Alright, brother. We will bring her home.” Ander thought to reach for Leighton, but the nauarch retreated back ever so slightly.

Closing his eyes, Leighton inhaled deeply after reaching for the harpoon he was threading. “Good. Then there is nothing more to speak about. This is not worrisome news, Ander. This is a miracle.”

From then on, no noise lingered in the air except for the creaking of the skiff against the wake and the howling of wind whipping around them.

The current below pushed them further out of the harbor.

Tidal shift was the best time to fish. Schools of seabream would wiggle their way downstream, exiting back into the open sea before them.

It was an easy catch, but they were usually not the end target.

Some were saved in the net by the stern to be charred whole over a fire, but the majority had been chopped into pieces for bait.

The greater prize were the swordfish that swam in the deep waters off Nexos, a majestic catch if you were able to spear it with a harpoon.

Swordfish were too heavy for the poles they rigged on the shore, only the bronze dart of a harpoon could pierce their thick scales and allow the men to haul the thrashing bodies aboard.

To some, this dangerous task was a way of life, a means to fill their bellies by the fish itself or the ample coins you could make for selling one.

Being the son of the God of Seas, Ander could have easily spelled a fish to him, calming its nervous system so it did not fight against them—that would have been a bore.

He was thrilled by the chase, the feeling that he worked to catch such a creature, otherwise what right did he have to take a living being from the earth just for sport?

Leighton had no powers to his name, at least none he shared with others, but the man was also known to respect the circle of nature—that life should nourish life and no waste should be spared.

Gods, did he live up to that motto, down to the pounds of food he would shovel each day, rivaling that of Ajax.

Hours went by without speaking, each man scanning the horizon for any sign of a dorsal fin slinking through the rolling waves.

In the distance, ripples formed along the waterline.

Gulls circled overhead, squawking as they beat their wings to stay put.

The birds began to lock their wings tight to their sides, spiraling into the sea below.

One returned with a small mackerel in its beak, flying back toward the shoreline. If there were mackerel then—

“There!” Leighton called, pointing past the school of fish. A deep blue fin began to run toward the flapping birds and splashing fish. Ander let out the mainsail into a close reach as they descended on their prey.

“Leighton, man the harpoon and keep tracking! I’ll hold us steady as we approach.” Holding a piece of cloth in the air, Ander confirmed the wind had not shifted since they’d set out earlier that day.

“Approaching on the starboard, Ander! It’s heading straight for our side.”

Closer and closer the fin ravaged through the wake, heading indeed for the side of the skiff. Swordfish were menacing creatures and faster than many in the Mykandrian Sea, but Leighton moved with the agility of a demi-god, spearing the prey as it launched its body from the water at them.

Thick rope reeled through Leighton’s cloth-wrapped palms before he cleated off the end. “Get ready to sled.”

This was Ander’s favorite part. The fish would run and drag them along with it at speeds unheard of.

They lowered the single sail so the competing forces of the swordfish and the wind wouldn’t cause them to capsize.

Zipping over the rolling waves, Ander kept the tiller steady, following where the fish led.

Wind whipped at their faces and they both laughed and hooted and hollered.

Lightness filled each of them, smiles plastered wide.

Ander missed this—the simplicity of two friends enjoying the open ocean and the chase, a stark contrast to the battle plans that laid ahead.

The beast circled back toward them and Leighton was able to spear another harpoon through its scales.

Only moments more would pass before the swordfish slowed, defeat inching closer.

Hauling the creature onto the boat would be difficult, even with the strength Ander and Leighton possessed.

Once on the planked deck, the fish flapped its tail twice more before it stilled.

Leighton cupped his palm over his heart. “Bless the Grechi for the flesh of this creature, for the sustenance of life.” He pulled out a long serrated knife from his hip, beginning to filet the fish out on the water .

“We will bring the meat into the village by the cove. Recent storms have left many of the families struggling, they could use this gift.”

Leighton only nodded back. He finished dicing the swordfish, organizing the parts of the carcass the village people could use and disposed of the rest over the side of the boat. They hoisted the sail and turned to head back to the harbor, continuing in silence until they were at the docks.

Peace. On this sparkling, sunkissed day, Ander could only feel peace.

The market was lively with the chattering of merchants and the scent of spice and freshly cooked meats.

It was always this way in the morning, patrons bustling about to pick up the best goods before the small wooden carts were empty.

Although Nexos was a plentiful kingdom, it still had its hardships.

Chloe had told Ander of a recent storm that hit a small portion of the village on the coast, ripping thatched roofs off houses, flooding the streets and food storages built underground.

Nikolaos had done what he could with the rebuilding effort, sending his personal guard to aid in patching houses until proper repairs could be done.

With winter quickly approaching, this was imperative as the snow that came with the season was unyielding.

Ander wanted to help in any capacity he could as well, at least before he had to leave this isle once more.

He would collect and donate as much food as he could until then, give back to a community that had always given him so much.

Leighton stood at the end of the market, next to a metal container they stored the filets of swordfish in over ice. “Are you going to help me with this or not?” he chuckled, bending down to lift one of the handles.

“Yes, sorry. My mind wandered there for a moment.” Ander jogged over, grabbing the opposing side's handle. “This was a really good catch, it should help a lot of families.”

“That it should,” Leighton replied. “So why do you seem so melancholy about it?”

“I just returned and already we are plotting our next course into danger. There is so much I wanted to do—for my people, for this great city to thrive—and now I must leave again.”

Leighton halted for a moment, reaching his hand out and placing it on Ander’s shoulder. “You don’t need to leave, brother. Maybe it is time someone else bore the weight of Odessia.”

Sighing, Ander shook his head. “You and I both know that isn’t possible. If it wasn’t me it would be her . I can’t let that happen.”

“Katrin would destroy kingdoms for you. She is not a delicate thing. Look what she did to rescue you, what she risked to return to Alentus.”

“I know, Leighton, trust me, I do. But does that mean I should ask her to risk her life again?” He couldn’t. In no reality would he put his own life above hers.

“You would never have to ask, she just would. For you. For her sister. We all would.”

Deep-set emerald eyes stared back at Ander, sunken with purple bags beneath—another person Ander did not want to risk the life of.

Especially not traveling to Cyther. But he needed Leighton with him, needed his second, the only person he trusted to leave if things began to turn for the worst. A steadfast naurach who could know when it was time to retreat.

When it was time to rally the forces. When it was time to let him go.

How had someone so broken as him deserved such steadfast friends? An unwavering loyalty?

“Thank you,” Ander whispered, the guilt of the coming days crowding his mind.

“For what?” Leighton asked.

“All of it.”

Blood was splattered over Ander’s linen shirt, sweat clinging to his skin despite the chill that the cusp of winter brought with it.

Steam radiated up from the tiled bath in front of him.

Lemon and olive oil bubbles floated on the surface of the water, clearing to the sides as he dropped his clothes on the floor and sunk into the much needed reprieve.

Fishing was a passion, one that eased his nerves and the ever growing voices in his mind, but it did nothing for the distinct smell it left clinging to his hair and his clothes—especially after fileting the creature and many smaller catches.

Katrin had only turned up her nose and pointed at the bathing chamber when he’d entered his room, barely shifting her eyes away from the book she was reading, curled under a blanket, a crystal goblet of red wine and a plate of grapes and cheese on the small table beside her.

Gods, she was magnificent—even there with her hair pinned up in a messy braid, wisps of chocolate locks protruding out, wearing only a silky chemise.

He hoped there was nothing else beneath the blanket.

But it wasn’t the barely there navy silk that caught his eye the most, it was the pinch between her brows and small tip up of her lips as she thumbed at a rapid pace through the book.

He knew that book and well—knew what lay within the crimson and black bound pages.

Ander wondered what part she was at, if she would want to experience those particular things with him.

Inhaling the steam, Ander sunk his body under the water, letting it cocoon him in a peaceful embrace.

His body heated and stiffened at the thoughts now filling his mind.

Soft skin brushing against him, sultry whispers in his ear, tiny moans of pleasure.

Fisting his shaft, Ander took long strokes, imagining what it might feel like to have Katrin’s lips around him—how her tongue might graze along his tip, tasting him for herself.

“If you wanted me to straddle you, you could have just asked,” a soft voice danced across the bathing chamber.

Ander’s eyes flew open and he turned his head to the doorway and his gaze met Katrin’s—those wicked ruby lips curved up, a feral flickering in her eyes, barely there panties covering places he wanted to devour.

“And what would you do—if I asked you?”

Katrin turned, shimmying off the tiny navy chemise before turning her head over her shoulder. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.” Gods—she would be the death of him, but an exquisite death it would be.

Ander could not get out of the bath fast enough .

“You are a wicked little thing, aren’t you, Starling?” he purred, not even bothering to wrap a towel around himself.

It only took three strides and five seconds to make it to where she retreated from the bathing chamber, but the sway of her body as she walked away from him made those five seconds the sweetest he had ever known.

He caught up to her, sliding one hand under her top, along the bare skin of her stomach. The other fisted around her throat, pulling her back until she was firmly against him.

“Tell me, Starling, which chapter would you like to reenact first?”