Page 18

Chapter eighteen

T hessa placed the flintlock pistol on the dresser then pushed her head into the pillows. The last part of her heart she’d kept back was now caught up in Raggon. He’d blundered his declaration of love, and still… if he’d done it any differently, she wouldn’t have been so stunned with these dizzying feelings.

He was good at throwing her off balance, in lots of ways.

Her fingers squeezed the gold coin from his country hanging from the leather cord that she’d stolen from him. A castle was intricately etched into the burnished gold surface of the coin, its towers and battlements catching the light with each movement. On the back was a woman with long-flowing hair. A queen? Perhaps Raggon’s mother? The delicate craftsmanship captured a serene expression that spoke of the artist’s deep respect. The metal was warm against Thessa’s skin, still carrying some lingering trace of his touch.

And just as if thinking of Raggon made him appear, a spray of seafoam materialized into the room and collected into his form until he stood there under the lanterns, wearing a ferocious scowl.

The Shadow of the Tide had come!

“Ah depths!” she shouted out his curse word. Raggon wasn’t bothering with the door anymore? Twisting around and sliding the blanket up and over her, she glared at him. Of course, she was perfectly decent in one of Maddox’s oversized shirts, the coarse linen hanging loosely from her shoulders, but Raggon couldn’t just barge in like that— shouldn’t —especially when she was thinking about him. It felt far too intimate!

The storm in his blue eyes stole all breath from her. Desperation rode his brow as he came for her, not bothering to cross the span with his feet. He was gone one instant, and the next, the weight of his elbows pressed down the bed as he knelt before her.

Those eyes—they only saw her! His fingers slid gently across her jaw, warm against her skin.

No longer thinking, no longer second-guessing herself, she reacted to the unspoken pleading in his eyes. Like a sailor reaching over the edge of a rowboat toward a captivating sea creature below, she leaned over the bed and surrendered her breath to his in a kiss that shook her from head to toe.

And then she nearly toppled over the edge to fall on him. Laughter bubbled through her throat. She was no better than a sailor caught by a siren’s trap. He steadied her, his hands finding the curve of her waist through the coarse shirt, leaving trails of warmth as bright as his soul.

He’d stopped her from falling head over heels for him—quite literally. He grinned self-consciously; his laughter mingled with hers. “Thessa! I didn’t mean to…” He tried to help her regain her balance.

“What? Make me fall all over you? Of course not! It’s these legs!” She tried to scoot around, bending her knees, so that her bare feet dangled over the side of the bed where he knelt before her.

She had no idea her heart could melt like this—it felt gooey and soft as she stared down at those beautiful, pleading eyes she’d come to know so well.

The storm was still in those depths.

Without another word, he brought her closer, kissing her again. His lips were full of wonder over hers, gentle and soft, until she felt the emotion behind his kiss turn more desperate, more urgent until she knew—something had happened out there on the deck since they’d parted, something horrible, because though he’d watched her with longing before, there hadn’t been this all-encompassing need, almost as if he’d come to her for comfort. His hands found her hair next, creating coppery waves with his every touch.

Her lips moved over his. The strong tendons of his neck stood out under her fingertips, and feeling the rapid beat of his pulse, she drew back to meet his eyes. “Raggon?” She could barely get his name out. “Wh-what is it?”

“Everything, Thessa, everything. My brother… he’s getting worse.” He went back to kissing her again. Affection for this man flooded through her, making her momentarily forget her worry over his brother. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, drawing him closer. The comfort of being in his arms was something she craved, a harbor in the storm of her thoughts—because… the only way to save his brother was to find that blade, and she was terrified of what she’d do when she found it!

Tomorrow! The day had come too soon. Would she be ready? Even as she yearned to stay forever like this in Raggon’s embrace, her mind pulled her reluctantly back. She’d never have the strength to face her fate tomorrow—not if she didn’t talk to this man.

With effort, she drew back just enough to speak, though she remained in the circle of his arms. His kiss had told her everything she needed to know—he’d lend his protection, his power, his devotion. He was a worthy ally… and perhaps more.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” she whispered, her breath still mingling with his. She hesitated, almost leaning in again before finding her resolve. “You want to know why I traded all my power to Scylla for—for my legs?” He stared at her with that devastating gaze of his, his fingers pushing into the blanket on either side of her, the crimson coverlet crumpling beneath his grip before he nodded. “Legs were the only way I could get on that island. I’ve come for Undine’s Blade too.”

Now it was out!

He took a deep breath, his chest rising beneath the brass buttons of his jacket. “Is there a reason that Scylla wants you to fall in love with me?”

She tilted her head, confusion, disbelief, and wonder rushing through her veins like water from the deepest depths of the sea. Love? Did she love him beyond this affection? But anything between them was forbidden. How could she? “No…” She tried to deny it, tried to ward those feelings away. “Raggon, I… meant it when I promised to help your brother! I’d intended to all along, and then after, I must…” run that blade through the enemy of my people.

What did that even mean?

He stared at her, his heart in his eyes, his lips seconds from kissing her again. He was a prince of Sylphoria—did that make him the…? No! That wasn’t why Scylla had tried to interfere. Raggon wasn’t her enemy!

Then who was? She’d better be sure of her target because after touching Undine’s Blade, she only had until the sea drowned the sun before she accomplished her mission or dissolve into seafoam after sunset like the last owner of that blade. No matter what Raggon had said—Undine’s story did not end as happily as the humans wished it had.

“The Sea Witch is wrong,” Thessa assured him, “…if—if she thinks that you have anything to do with ending Undine’s curse.” The merfolk had new enemies now—Scylla, Circe, too, not the Sylphorians! Those two wouldn’t rest until they’d enslaved her people. The dagger would be satisfied with either of those witches’ black hearts.

Her grip tightened on the front of his jacket, the fabric thick and slightly rough under her fingers. “I’m returning Undine’s Blade to my father. If I can’t get it to him, he will die.”

“What does loving me have to do with any of this?”

And here he was talking about love again… like he’d uncovered feelings in her heart she’d carefully hidden beneath layers of duty and fear, too terrified to name them even in her private thoughts. “I don’t know!”

“She might think I’d rebel against her,” he said, “—that I’d stay away from you… maybe because we’re an undefeatable force. And she’s not wrong. We’re more powerful together.” His lips found hers again, sending a balm of relief coursing through her as they reunited, two currents merging into one powerful tide, his kiss deepening until her bones felt like they were dissolving into the sea itself.

“Those witches won’t control our lives anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse against her cheek. “We’ll fight them until the end.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs as fear and hope mingled in her blood. What if Scylla truly wanted her to fall in love with him? What would the witch gain?

“What’s this?” Raggon had found his necklace on her. His fingers traced the edges of the coin, and he smiled, a low chuckle under his breath. “Clam! You thief!” He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes impossibly blue in the dim light. “I’d hoped you’d wear this.”

“I like having a part of you with me,” she admitted.

“You’ll steal all of me, piece by piece?” he murmured. That teasing look was back in his expression. He shifted and made a face when his knees protested against the hard floor. Letting out a grunting laugh, he rose with one fluid motion and shrugged off the confining jacket, stripping down to the cambric shirt beneath before sitting beside her, his knees bumping into hers as he turned to face her. The heavy coverlet moved beneath them as he ran his fingers down her cheek, callused fingertips catching slightly on her skin. “Tomorrow… when we get to Undine’s Island, we need to know where to search. Do you have any idea where to go?”

Her stomach knotted with dread at the thought of the blade being hidden where they couldn’t reach it. She didn’t know where it had been buried. “It can’t be too hard to find,” she said. “We just need to figure out where Undine would take it.”

She listened to his swallow. “Like finding a pearl in the depths,” he muttered. “Will we have enough time?”

She could only pray that they did. The horror of losing his brother would only be the beginning. If her father surrendered to his illness and descended to the eternal currents, the whole sea would groan under its weight of grief. Nothing would hold the witches back from coming after them then.

Raggon’s hands tightened over hers as their fingers wove together. “This is going to work. There is magic in your eyes; your smiles sparkle with it.” His lips brushed light kisses against her cheek.

“No magic here,” she whispered, glancing up at him, “or Scylla would’ve stolen it. She gets all my powers, I’m afraid.” A sudden pit of depression weighed against this newfound happiness, and she broke from him, climbing over the bed to find the flintlock pistol on the table, the weapon he’d entrusted to her care. “This is all I’ve got. Some bilge rat gave it to me.”

He laughed lightly in response.

The cool wood against her palm brought an odd kind of comfort—a tangible connection since this gift came from him.

Perhaps that was when she first started to… love him? The thought crashed into her with unexpected force. Why did everything keep returning to that? Her breath caught, and she met his eyes again. “Did you want this back?”

He grinned, his eyes darkening with emotion. “I didn’t come here just to get a pistol from you.”

“No,” she whispered. He’d come to offer his heart… a second time. How many times would he do it before she crushed it? When all she wanted was to offer hers in return? The pistol clattered against the bedside table when she set it down. Instinctively, she scooted further away from him, creating a small island of space between them. Her own heart demanded distance—room to breathe, to think clearly again.

Glancing up at him, she noticed he was still watching her from the other side of the bed, his eyes following her movements with quiet intensity. She tried to fill the void with words: “What do I have to offer you in return? I traded everything that made me a princess of the Sea Sovereignty.”

“No,” he answered firmly. “You cheated that witch—she got nothing of value.” He settled across from her, propping his head with his palm while he continued to watch her, no longer as the drowning man, but as the one who’d been rescued. “I got the best part of you,” he whispered. He reached through the invisible wall she’d created between them and captured a strand of her hair between his fingers.

“If you try to cut another chunk off…” she warned playfully.

“No, never.” He ran the back of his knuckles against her arm, sending a pleasant shiver through her to remind her of these inconvenient feelings all over again, ones that only grew stronger the longer she knew him. And there was no keeping back her smile at his touch. Disobedient mouth!

His broad shoulder dug into the pillows across from her. This time, however, he maintained a respectful distance that would certainly gain the old Duke’s approval—though she supposed earlier they both might’ve earned a sound lecture from the good man.

Was it deserved?

Thessa’s cheeks flushed at the thought of Raggon’s kisses. Her lips burned with them. Her piratical prince was a man who showed who he was without saying a word. His eyes—full of promise of more to come—never deserted her.

She felt the same need to stay close. In him was her hope.

“Just a few hours more,” he whispered, “… and we’ll be on the island.” He ran a circle over her arm, his breathing slowing at the gentle rock of the ship. What would happen once they reached their destination? Would this fragile peace they’d found still be the same? She watched the battle between wakefulness and sleep play out in his face until his eyes closed, his fingers draping over hers, as if afraid she might slip away like the tide.

The lantern light cast shadows across a face that was troubled.

And there was more than enough reason—she felt it too—something gnawing at her thoughts, even as she also drifted to sleep, something dreadful lying below the surface, and it was just waiting for her to wake and discover it.

Then silence… before it was broken by piercing screams. Thessa shot up in bed, hearing a terrifying sound shake the cabin, making the gas lanterns swing wildly from their hooks and glass bottles topple from shelves, vibrating through her in a roar—yes, a roar! It was unlike anything she’d ever heard before, primal and ancient. The sea itself had found its voice.

This wasn’t a part of her nightmares.

“Father!” she gasped. Was he still alive? Please say this wasn’t the sea mourning his passing!

Clutching the blankets, she rolled over and found Raggon gone, the impression of where he lay still visible on the rumpled coverlet. He was out there where the danger was.

Above her, the chipped mural of the captured mermaid seemed to writhe in the fitful light, as if struggling against her painted bonds, a silent warning that sent chills down Thessa’s spine.

The nightmare bubbling beneath the surface had turned all too real.