Page 7 of Queen’s Griffon (Swords & Tiaras #2)

Chapter 6

Griff

Griff noticed the little queen hadn’t secured her safety line as she walked away. The petite spitfire had shown no regard for her safety as she emerged to help in the battle. He couldn’t even be mad she’d risked herself because she’d proven to be a decent fighter.

The moment the wave hit the ship, a sixth sense had him moving as if he knew what would happen next.

The queen slid, unable to catch herself on anything, and headed for the rail. Griff didn’t think twice. Unlike his crew, he’d remained untied the entire battle, wanting to be able to move about freely. He threw himself down on the deck and let its angle and slickness give him the speed he needed to reach the queen. Not fast enough to catch her before she went over the side.

He launched himself after her.

Dumb.

So very dumb.

He’d always told his crew not to risk themselves trying to do the impossible. Man overboard in a storm? Consider him lost. But did he follow his own advice? Obviously not since he hit the water and let himself sink.

Pure darkness surrounded him, but he didn’t panic. It wouldn’t be his eyes that found the sinking queen. His questing arms didn’t touch her and while he had no way of knowing where she was, he kicked anyhow, swimming in a direction that had more to do with a feeling than anything tangible. As he stroked, the tip of his fingers felt fanning strands of hair and he fisted them, coiling her mane around his hand and dragging her limp body against his chest.

With her secured in one arm, he kicked for the surface, straining, his lungs aching. He burst from the water and took a deep, heaving breath before trying to orient himself. Not easily, he might add. Waves rolled over his face, the ocean determined to push them under. He kicked in an attempt to remain afloat and wondered how he’d get back on his damned boat.

So stupid. Risking himself, and for what? A tiny slip of a woman who’d been nothing but annoying.

The faint spots of light in the pouring rain showed the boat not too far, yet far enough given the waves kept pushing him further. Still, he tried to stroke for it one-armed.

“Captain! To your left!” Kreed’s holler had his head turning to see… nothing. It was too damned dark.

He kicked in that direction and his hand slapped over something hard but buoyant. He gripped the flotation device and yelled, “I’ve got it, Kreed. Reel us in.”

It proved somewhat challenging to hold on tight to the rapidly moving buoy while keeping the queen’s head above water. Kreed must have had help because they sliced easily through the waves that fought to keep them. The pace slowed as they reached the side of the ship, and then came the complicated part.

The rope slackened and he used that looseness to wrap it around his torso and free arm while holding onto the queen with the other as his crew hauled them from the ocean. They landed on the deck in a soggy mess, alive. At least he was. He had no idea if the queen had survived her dunking.

“I don’t think she’s breathing, Cap,” Simhi declared, rolling Avera to her side and pounding her back.

“Move aside.” Despite his exhaustion, Griff was the one to grab Avera and hoist her enough her head dangled down, the angle forcing water to run out of her mouth and lungs. Not enough for her to breathe.

Griff placed the little queen on her back and put his mouth on hers, blowing, filling her lungs with air. Once. Twice. On the third forced breath, she shuddered and spasmed. He threw himself to the side as she turned her head and spewed.

Seawater and dinner. Nasty. Good thing it was still raining.

The queen’s lashes fluttered. “Am I dead?” she croaked.

“Not yet, although you gave it a good try.” Griff rose to his feet. “Get her into a bed.” Not much else to do with someone who’d almost drowned. Either she recovered or she didn’t.

Monty, one of the deckhands, hauled the queen into his burly arms and headed into the ship.

Griff rubbed his face and glanced at Kreed. “Status?”

“Well, as of a few minutes ago, thought I was gonna be captain. What possessed you to go diving into the drink after the woman?” His first mate crossed his arms and gave him a look. A look he’d learned from Griff.

“Can’t collect a bounty if she’s dead,” was his lame reply. In truth, he didn’t know why he’d done it.

“You’re lucky I spotted you bobbing like a cork out there. Flash of lightning hit just in the right spot and time.”

“I owe you,” Griff replied. “You saved my life.”

“Bah. I did it mostly so I wouldn’t have to manage this scurvy lot. Never had a hankering to be captain.”

Griff’s lips twitched. “Is that why you turned down the offer to take over the Rebellion after Captain Montgomery retired?”

“Why would I sail the second-best ship left in the Verlorian fleet?” Kreed scoffed.

“You still haven’t told me the status of our vessel yet.”

“Like I’ve had time to assess shit,” Kreed grumbled. “Ship seems fine so far. Storm’s rough, but we done sailed through worse. Five crew lost in the attack that I know of. Still need to do a proper headcount to be sure there’s not more. Got six with Doc, getting stitched up. Only Jones is iffy. He had his stomach ripped open, but I didn’t see any guts so with any luck, he’ll heal.”

Five gone. Griff didn’t know the names yet, but he mourned their loss. A life at sea could be the best thing, but also the hardest. It wasn’t an easy life.

“Since when are there undine this far south?” Griff muttered as he slogged for the bridge.

“Since today, apparently. We’ll have to let the other captains know.”

On the bridge, Dickson had the helm once more, his face grim as he fought to keep them from keeling over.

“I’ve got the wheel. Take a break.” Griff took over from his sailor.

He fought the storm for the next few hours. Grim-faced, tense, determined. By the time it calmed, he was more than ready for bed. During that time, he’d gotten a fuller report on the situation. Rail damage at the aft. Six crew missing, not five. Jones would live, the slice not as deep as thought. All in all, it could have been worse, much worse, considering how many undine they’d faced.

With dragging feet, he headed for his cabin, stripped as he entered, his clothes still damp from the storm. Knowing his room, he didn’t bother lighting a candle but rather made his way to the bed and flopped onto it. Only as he stretched did he realize he wasn’t alone.

He pushed up and squinted in the dark. Couldn’t see, of course, so he patted the body lying under his covers. Petite with long hair.

The queen.

Monty, the idiot, had placed her here instead of her cabin.

He thought about carrying her to her room. The very idea exhausted him.

Instead, he rolled over and closed his eyes.