Page 47

Worry and anticipation lick up my spine as Grayson continues to edge forward, trying to help his mate before he makes another move out of fear and ends up killing himself in the process.

The ship starts to shift again, the right side pulling down low. All it would take is for us to hit a band of reef, or for the ship to turn, and Grayson could be thrown off the side as well.

A desperate plea burns on my tongue. I want to call out for him, to tell him to leave the man to his fate—but I can’t.

Not when a distraction could mean the difference between life and death.

So, I watch with bated breath and pray to the heavens that Flynn listens and Grayson is able to pull him back to safety.

My feet almost slip out from under me as the wave makes its final pass beneath us and the right-side railing of the Caelestia nearly hits the water.

Just as the side shoots back up, Flynn rises to his feet but . . . No! Oh gods, no!

His momentum is off and he takes a step backward. And another. Then the back of his legs hit the railing and he starts to fall over.

Still clinging to the pillar, I reach out with my other hand and scream as if I can summon some ancient power that pulls him forward. But I am powerless . Like so many moments in my life, I am forced to bear witness to something terrible and have no ability to stop it.

Then I see Grayson move faster than any living thing should be able to, grabbing his mate by the wrist and yanking him forward hard.

My lungs catch fire as I let out a shuddering breath once Flynn crashes to the deck and Grayson grabs the back collar of his tunic, pulling him toward the center of the ship.

Grayson reaches one of the loose ropes secured to the base of the mainmast and ties it around Flynn’s waist. Meanwhile, Flynn stays low to the ground, on his shaking hands and knees, and I can’t tell if it’s the rain or tears in his eyes.

Relief shudders through me when Grayson makes his way back to my side.

Shielding me from the rain, he moves both his hands above my head and wraps them around the pillar.

His wet tunic clings to his skin, revealing the distinct outlines of his abdomen.

Even now, I feel my blood grow warm from the sight of him and it has nothing to do with the fever coursing through my veins.

“That was close.” I wipe the rainwater from my eyes.

“Too close,” Grayson agrees. “Flynn was recruited when we were last at Silvermoon Landing. This is his first time enduring a storm.”

“It was almost his last.”

Grayson nods. “He let fear win and it almost cost him his life.”

I remember how he cornered me several nights ago at the bar in Harrick’s inn, forcing me to face my own fears—the ones I’ve buried the deepest. As I look at him now, I can’t help but wonder what his fears are. The ones that keep him awake at night, despite his best efforts to keep them at bay.

Or maybe he has none at all. Maybe he has seen too much in his long life.

“Come on.” He extends his hand toward me. “We need to get upstairs to the quarterdeck.”

Taking his hand, he puts me in front of himself, keeping his hands on my shoulders the entire way. Crouching down low, I move carefully up the stairs, gripping tightly onto the banister.

Zaos is waiting for us at the center of the quarterdeck. Fatigue threatens to pull me to the floor of the deck, but I manage to loop my arm through the railing and lean heavily on the slick wood as another swell rolls us from side to side.

“The anchor broke loose!” Zaos yells over the roar of the rain and wind.

“We know! We could feel the line snap from inside the cabin. We need to—” Grayson is cut off by the sound of screaming men.

All three of us look forward onto the main deck that Grayson and I just came from.

Toward the bow, there’s a group of five men crowded together pointing east. Shielding my eyes from the rain with my hand, I squint and try to make out what they’re pointing at.

My breath catches in my throat when my eyes land on twin waterspouts dancing around each other.

“Do you see them?” I ask, voice swallowed up by the storm.

“I see them,” Grayson says, coming up behind me, caging me in with his arms as he leans his hands onto the railing.

“We’re sitting ducks,” Zaos says. “The wind is too strong for us to release the sails. It’ll rip them to shreds.”

Monitoring the movements of the waterspouts, I gage the wind’s trajectory.

“We have no other choice. We have to get as far away from them as possible or there is no chance in us evading them!” Grayson orders.

“Wait.” I turn around, placing a hand on his forearm. “We can use the foremast to steer ourselves away. With the force of these winds, we won’t need to risk the main rig. We just need to get far enough away to give the waterspouts enough time to burn out.”

Grayson’s eyes roam the main deck and I know he’s assessing the state of his ship and whether or not his men will be able to raise the sails in time.

A few more moments pass and I try to ignore the growing weakness in my muscles.

Even Grayson’s wet coat feels too heavy on my haggard frame, but I stand up a little straighter to ensure neither him nor Zaos see just how tired I am and demand I go back downstairs.

“What’s the order, Captain?” Zaos asks, his words clipped with urgency.

Grayson looks down at me, his eyes searching back and forth between mine. I raise my chin a little higher and he smiles.

“You heard her. Raise the foremast. Let’s try to get around them.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Zaos grow eerily still. Turning toward him, I see that he’s staring at me. But not with the usual malice.

No. This time, he eyes me with blatant curiosity, almost as though he’s trying to figure out what it is about me that has drawn his captain in.

Smirking, I figure it’s a win. At least he’s not unsheathing his throwing knives to bury it in my spine.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Zaos calls the order.

Grayson’s men activate as they start to raise the foremast. Digging my nails into the wood of the railing, I watch as the sails whip wildly in the wind.

One of the men gets knocked to his knees almost at once, sliding over the rain-wet deck and careening toward the edge of the ship—but the rope tied around his waist goes taught, keeping him safely on board.

We all watch as the wind fills the sails and the Caelestia starts moving forward—right into the path of the waterspouts.

“Steer her port side!” Grayson yells to his helmsman. I look down and see him spinning the wheel as quickly as he can and once it stops, he leans into it with his entire body, keeping her steady as we sail high over a large swell.

“Brace yourselves!” Zaos calls out and I feel Grayson press his body into my back, pinning me against the railing. The men below us latch themselves onto whatever they can find and hold tight as we soar over the cresting wave and into the gap.

Bending my knees, I ready myself for the impact. It comes swift and hard, shaking the entire hull like an earthquake. A splitting pain sears through my jaw as my teeth clatter together and I feel my feet slip on the deck beneath me, but Grayson’s embrace keeps me from falling down.

All I can do is watch as two of Grayson’s men slide toward the edge of the ship, their fates in their own hands now, as we start to crest the next wave. The sails strain and the sound of a cracking whip pierces the air as the foremast starts to splinter.

“She isn’t going to hold!” Zaos says, lowering himself as we reach the top of the swell again.

“She’ll hold!” I yell into the onslaught of rain.

Another loud crack sounds and the waterspouts shift toward us, whirling and winding their way around one another as they do.

Muffled screams and hollers come from the deck below us as we crash over the wave, the hull shuttering beneath us once again.

But I don’t look. Not at the chaos below when death is about to descend upon us.

Grayson moves his left arm across my chest, pulling me even closer to him, and I know he sees it too. It doesn’t matter the strength of the wind and whether or not the foremast will hold when the twisters are headed right for us.

All I can do is watch as the twin spouts rip apart the ocean’s surface.

One breath.

Two.

They edge closer, spinning even faster and closer together. A ripple runs through the fabric of the sails as their chaotic wind starts to pull at us.

“Come on,” I whisper. “Come on!”

Grayson tightens his hold on me and I feel the scruff of his jaw scrape against my cheek. “This will not be our end, Little Pearl.”

As soon as his words are spoken, the tornados start to slow. The spinning water at the ends of their tails falters and they start to disappear into the dark grey clouds above them until there is nothing left. No trace is left of the destruction they amassed upon the water’s surface.

My shoulders drop and I nearly collapse onto the railing as relief surges through my tired bones.

“Good call,” I hear Zaos say to my right. There’s something new written across his face. Something I’ve never seen before. Appreciation perhaps? His gaze travels upward and I know he’s looking at Grayson now. “She’s a good navigator, Captain.”

The rain almost drowns out his words and I shift in Grayson’s embrace to watch as Zaos moves down the staircase, clutching onto the railing as he goes.

Spinning around in his arms, Grayson keeps his hand around my waist and the other braced on the railing. “Did he just give me a compliment?”

Water falls from the line of his jaw as he smiles widely. “I believe that may have been the first one I’ve ever heard uttered from his lips.” Grayson presses a kiss to my forehead.

“So, I should feel honored?” I scowl, still not ready to give the bastard an inch after the shit he pulled the last time we stood upon this deck together.

“You’ll both come around in your own time. I only ask that you give him a chance.”

Arching a brow, I lean into him, feeling the weight of my fatigue take hold.

Grayson’s brows pinch together. “We can argue about this another time. We need to get you back into bed.”

“But we haven’t made it out of the storm yet,” I protest and try to stand up on my own without leaning into him to steady me.

My knees crumple and Grayson catches me, lifting me up from under my arms. I bunch my hands into fists around the center of his tunic; water seeps out, spilling over my hands to join the rest of the rain water falling across our bodies.

“Little Pearl, if you think I can’t navigate my own ship out of a storm, then you wound me most severely.”

I stare at him. Realization dawning. “You only brought me up here because you knew I would throw a fit if you didn’t. You didn’t care about my advice at all.”

A threatening growl emanates from his throat. “We can talk about this downstairs. In the cabin. Where it’s dry.”

“No.” I move to cross my arms, then think better of it as another swell rocks the Caelestia from side to side. “We can talk about it right here.”

“Do I really need to toss you over my shoulder again?” he threatens.

I narrow my gaze on him. “It’s too risky. You wouldn’t put my life in danger just to prove a point.”

His scowl deepens and I know I’ve got him cornered.

“Do I value your input as a captain? Yes, I do. You are a brilliant navigator and right now, a giant pain in my ass. But to answer your question truthfully, no, I did not need your advice to navigate around the twisters. Though, I did find your input to be thoughtful and courageous. Most captains I know would have frozen in the face of what we just endured.” He tugs me closer and I don’t pull away.

“There’s nothing wrong with giving someone what they need. ”

“And you think I needed to be the one to get us through that?”

His hand moves up to cup the side of my face. His voice lowers as he says, “I think you needed to feel like you were in control of your own fate after what happened on that beach.”

His words clang around my mind as I think back to that moment when the lightning barreled toward me and I was certain the bright white light signified my ending.

But he had been there. Grayson saw the strike coming for me and he refused to let that be my end.

While I just stood there, helpless. Then the same thing happened again when I jumped from the longboat and the freezing cold water ripped away any sense to survive.

I was going to let fear win. I was going to let myself sink to the bottom of the ocean and let that watery grave be my end.

But he was there again.

In the face of losing me, Grayson laughed and damned fate to the hells. He did not waver. He did not let the cruelty of this world win.

Both times, he reached out and took what he wanted.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe I want—no, need— to regain control over my own life. Maybe that’s why I risked everything when I asked my crew to help me steal the Serpent’s Key.

“Thank you.” The words brush past my cold lips.

“For what?” Bending his knees, he braces us for the next wave.

“For knowing what I needed before I did—and then allowing me to have it. I don’t understand what’s happening between us, but I’m . . .” I trail off, not quite sure what to say, because words don’t seem to be enough.

“I know.” Closing his eyes, he brings his forehead down to mine. “I have wished upon every star in the heavens to find you. Now that I have, I will never let you go.”

Grasping onto his forearm with one hand, I move my other over his chest, letting loose a long breath when I feel his heart beat beneath my palm.

“And what if I wish to go?”

His chest vibrates as he hums.

“Then I shall watch you from a distance, praying that you might find your way back to me.”