Page 42 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

If Alys appeared ill, she’d only attract unwanted attention from the people they passed, so she forced a placid smile on her

face and hoped no one could see the clammy sweat beading on her forehead. Standing upright taxed her to the limits of her

strength. Yet she made herself do it, holding Ben’s arm.

“Don’t know why...” She struggled to speak. “Done bigger spells than this... never got me this bad.”

“Have you ever held the glamour for this long?” His voice sounded far away, even with him right beside her.

She shook her head, but that made the world tilt, so she kept her head still. “Not alone. Not shared with another person.

It’s far, where we’re going?”

“Not far at all. We’ve arrived.” He guided her up a step, past a painted wooden sign that read The Two Cats Inn . They moved inside, and she had a vague impression of a neatly appointed taproom with a few patrons, as well as a sitting

area where a man perched on the edge of a chair as he read a newspaper.

“What might I do for you?” a middle-aged woman in an apron said, coming forward.

She had light sepia skin and a few tendrils of tight black curls escaped the kerchief wrapped around her head.

“Our kitchen is closed but I could find some bread and cheese and ale, if you so desire, and you can dine in our taproom.”

“My wife and I require a room for the night,” Ben answered.

“Of course, sir. It’ll be a shilling for one night’s stay.”

Ben patted his pockets. “I, uh...”

“Here. And here. For food.” Alys fished out two shillings from her own pocket and handed it to the innkeeper. “Room.”

The landlady blinked at Alys’s terse words. She squinted at Alys’s face, which was no doubt looking a bit wobbly as the glamour

slipped away.

“Right away, please,” Ben said firmly.

“This way.” The innkeeper led them up a narrow steep staircase, which made Alys’s normally strong legs burn. At the top of

the stairs, they found a T-shaped hallway lined with closed doors. The landlady passed several of them before turning down

a corridor and unlocking one.

Ben pushed the door open, revealing a snug chamber with a dormer window. It was full of plain but well-made furnishings, including

a dresser, washstand, and bed. The walls had been painted a cheerful yellow, but through Alys’s blurry vision, the color appeared

more sickly than sunny. She gripped the doorframe to stay upright.

“Everything satisfactory, sir?” the innkeeper asked, standing in the hallway.

“We’ll need that food brought up as soon as possible,” he answered. Before he shut the door, he added, “My thanks.”

The moment the door was closed, Alys sank to the floor. She blinked groggily as the room spun—but no, it was Ben, gathering

her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed.

He laid her down upon the mattress, and quickly got to work removing her buckled shoes. His hands upon her feet, even through

her stockings, shot tiny filaments of energy up her legs. But it wasn’t enough.

“You need balancing,” he said, studying her gravely.

“Know what... balancing is?” she mumbled.

“Not precisely. It helps you replenish your magic, and involves touch. Food, too.”

“Quick study, Sailing Master.”

He rolled her onto her back and braced his hands on either side of her head. The glamour was thinning now, and the humble-featured

man she’d transformed him into was quickly disappearing. His own face emerged like a proud oak from a stand of scrub trees.

She reached up to run her fingers along his angled jaw. “You, but not you.” She touched her own face. “Me, but not me.”

There was a knock at the door. “Brought you bread, cheese, fruit, and ale, sir.”

“Leave it in the hallway,” he called.

“As you like.” There was a sound of a tray being set down, and then retreating footsteps.

He leaned over her, concern written across his face. “I’ll be right back.”

“Watch me fly from the room the moment your back’s turned,” she slurred.

The bed creaked as he rose. She stared at the beams on the ceiling. Despite the cleanliness of the inn, someone had missed

a cobweb, but Alys didn’t mind a spider here and there. They were her sisters, after all, some of them devouring males when

they no longer served them.

Ben reappeared, holding a tray laden with food. As soon as he returned, Alys released her final tenuous hold on the glamour,

exhaling with relief when she no longer had to keep it up.

His face was fully restored to its original likeness, handsome as a hawk. He set the tray on the bedside table before using

a few pillows to prop Alys up.

“Open.” He held a piece of apple to her mouth.

“Can feed myself,” she protested, but then her protests died when he popped the morsel of fruit between her lips.

She closed her eyes and groaned at the sweet taste. Flavors were always amplified whenever she ate anything during balancing. She’d been known to polish off an entire plate of iced cakes as she revived her magic.

When he fed her a piece of sharp cheddar, she moaned.

“What?” she demanded as Ben stared at her, his gaze heating.

“It doesn’t signify.” He shook his head. “Here’s more.”

When he moved to place more food in her mouth, she turned away. “Can feed myself.”

He handed her pieces of apple, cheese, and bread, which she steadily ate. They were quiet like this for a while, the sounds

of traffic coming faintly through the window, and voices below in the taproom and footfalls upon the wooden floor.

“The woman in your dream,” he said after some time. “The one who was...”

“Hanged.” Could she trust him with this? “My sister. The gentlest person you’d ever meet. She’d bring animals home if they

were sick or wounded. Always gathered wild herbs and collected mushrooms. She could speak with birds.”

“And she taught you?”

“Before she could, she was executed by a mob three years ago for being a witch. Speaking with birds, that’s something I made

myself learn, and I taught others. After she was gone.”

He pressed the mug into her hands, and she swallowed some ale. “I’m sorry.”

“Either you hide the fact that you’re a witch, or they kill you. We all know this.”

“Time doesn’t make any of it easier,” he said gently.

“I go over it. Again, and again.” She nudged his hand away when he tried to give her more apple. “I could’ve learned their

plans sooner and urged her to flee. I could’ve escaped faster to reach her before the mob pulled her from the prison.”

“Escaped?”

“Samuel locked me in the cellar that morning. Said he loved me too much to let me risk my life for someone guilty.”

“Christ.”

“I finally kicked the door open and ran but... I didn’t make it in time. They were gathered around her body when I reached

the prison. Well, you saw it. It’s why I left Norham, otherwise it would have been my body swinging from a noose.”

“Jesus. Alys.” His voice was tight.

“I failed her. It won’t happen again.”

Ben was quiet for a moment. “I keep thinking... if I find his murderer...”

Her eyes were hot, and she blinked to clear them. “Then he’ll forgive you.”

“I’ll forgive myself. Maybe it’s a futile hope. Maybe... it’s all I have. Alys.” His hand rested on her shoulder. “Look

at me.”

“I don’t want to forgive myself.” She pressed her hand over her eyes. “Leave me be, Sailing Master.”

“Ben.” His voice was gentle. “There’s no one here but us. You can call me by my name.”

“Ben.” She sat up a little. “A good name. Solid. Dependable.”

“Alys,” he murmured. “A good name. Sounds like music.”

She made a face. “A dirge.”

“A hymn,” he insisted. “Something soaring.”

She opened her eyes as a rueful laugh escaped her. “I’m not very good at flying.”

“You fly high enough. You made me fly. Roughly, granted, but it happened.”

“Susannah knows her way through the skies better than me.”

“Susannah didn’t help me to soar. You did.”

“Kept us alive, at least.” She shifted uncomfortably.

He was instantly alert. “In pain? I’ve asked too much of you with my questions.”

“I’m used to your prying.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod, “you must be on the mend if you can make fun of me.”

“Inch by inch, I’m getting better. Not enough to take up the glamour again.”

“Is there something else we can try? To balance you?”

She hesitated. Then took his hand in hers and brought it to her cheek.

“Touch.” she said. “The best way to balance.”

He was briefly still. Then he stroked his palm along her skin. Energy faintly sparkled within her.

“We could do more,” she murmured. Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “If you’re willing.”

After a moment, he leaned close. His breath was warm over her. The moment held, stretched out.

Slowly, slowly, he brushed his lips across hers. The lightest of touches, and yet it made her purr. He was warm and soft and

firm.

“Tell me yes, Ben.” Her words were husky as they rasped across his mouth. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“I want this. I want you .” He cupped her head with his hands, angling her so that their mouths met. They kissed deeply, taking long drugging tastes

of each other. She held tightly to him as he pulled her closer.

“Touch me,” she urged.

“Tell me where. Show me what you like.”

She again took his hand in hers and stroked it down her throat. She glided his palm over her collarbone before moving lower

and then—

She moaned when she brought his hand to cup her breast through her bodice. His hand was large, surrounding her completely.

“Ah, God.” He gave a low rumble.

He dipped his hand beneath the neckline of her bodice to find her nipple. His fingers were callused and the rasp against her flesh made her writhe. When he gave her nipple a slight pinch, she arched up with a cry.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling back.

“Keep going.”

He seemed to grow more confident, caressing her with rough care.

“The feel of you.” He growled against her neck, then licked the flesh there. “Your taste .”

“Ben,” she panted.

A glow began to emanate from her, golden and radiant. It enveloped them both as it grew in strength. As it expanded, so, too,