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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

JACE

J ace watched Irene like a man dying of thirst staring at water he could never touch. She leaned against the wooden railing of the ship, her arms stretched out, her face lifted to the blazing sun. The heat seeped into her, burning every inch of her skin, but she didn’t pull away.

The murmur of the waves mingled with the sounds of ropes creaking and boots shuffling across the deck. A few feet away, Jace sat perched on the weathered seat that curved out from the railing, a sketchbook balanced on his lap. He watched her with an intensity that bordered on agony, every soft curve, every golden glow on her skin carving itself into his memory.

Egobor had given him the sketchbook and a stick of charcoal—an unexpected gift, priceless to someone like him, who owned so little. The gesture had moved him more than he could express. He’d spent hours sketching the ocean, then the sunrise. But when Irene had appeared on deck, her feline grace drawing every gaze, his hand had instinctively turned to a fresh page.

His gaze lingered on her, tracing every detail with reverence. For a moment, Irene seemed lost in her own world, but Jace... Jace was utterly lost in her. Her curls floated in the wind like dark waves, catching threads of sunlight that kissed her skin in a golden glow. He focused on her face, shading the contours of her closed eyelids, delicate and serene, as though she were lost in a dream. His pencil outlined the elegant curve of her neck, the soft dip of her collarbone, before hovering over her lips—full, slightly parted, and a natural red, like the blush of ripe pomegranates.

A strand of his blond hair slipped across his eyes, but he brushed it away impatiently, refusing to lose sight of Irene. She stretched against the railing, arching her body as she lifted her face toward the sky. Jace’s fingers hovered over his sketchbook, capturing her as though she were a dream he was terrified to wake from. He sketched the soft line of her shoulder, his strokes slow and deliberate, as if drawing her could hold the moment forever.

Jace was so focused on Irene's portrait that he didn’t hear Egobor’s heavy steps beside him. He flinched when the Amorian’s gruff voice broke his trance. “What a beautiful view, huh?” Egobor said, raising his thick eyebrows, his tone steeped in something far deeper than simple admiration.

Jace’s heart jumped, heat rushing to his cheeks. He stuttered, “Y-yes… the sea, it’s breathtaking.” He quickly looked away, his gaze darting to the endless blue beyond Irene, praying Egobor was talking about the horizon.

But Egobor didn’t take his eyes off the scene before them. With a wistful sigh, he folded his arms across his chest. "There isn’t enough gold or jewels in this world worth a view like this," he murmured. His eyes lingered on Irene and the horizon as he added, "It’s not often you find something wild and untamed that carries the beauty of something rare." Before turning away, he said with a faint smile, "Be careful, my boy. The sea is beautiful, but it’s dangerous to men," and he winked at him.

Jace froze. The words sank into him like the pull of the tide, leaving him speechless. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Egobor wasn’t talking about the sea.

Egobor smiled faintly, and gave Jace a pat on the shoulder before walking away. Just as he was finishing his drawing, she suddenly opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto him. Caught off guard, Jace’s heart skipped a beat, heat rushing to his face. He looked away as quickly as he could, pretending to watch the horizon, his heart pounding in his chest. The charcoal nearly slipped from his trembling fingers.

He struggled to steady his breathing, to tame the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Watching her was like trying to stare at the sun, impossible and breathtaking.