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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IN WHICH THE HERO MAKES A PLAY

The swaying of the ship became harder to ignore with a full belly.

In hopes of some relief, I made my way to the top deck. Leaning against the polished wood railing, I basked in the moonlight and listened to the faint whumps of wind buffeting the open sails, which kept us moving now that we were in open water.

Meat and biscuits sat heavy in my throat no matter how many times I swallowed. Staring into the distance didn’t make a difference either. My body knew where it was, and no amount of watching the clouds calmed the nauseating swells.

“Have mercy,” I mumbled, resting my head against my forearm as another wave hit.

Wood creaked under a heavy boot.

“Looks like you found a nice spot,” Luthri remarked, coming to rest against the barrier beside me. I didn’t bother raising my head. I didn’t have the strength to ask him to leave, either.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior before,” he continued in a low voice. “Both… for the cards and for the question I asked. It wasn’t right. This isn’t an excuse, by any means, but I think I was affected more than I thought by the situation in the swamps. The fact that I wasn’t?—”

Saliva pooled in my mouth.

“Hold that thought,” I managed seconds before my stomach clenched with a vengeance and my supper was lost to the black water below.

“May I?”

I couldn’t do much else but nod my permission as I heaved.

Immediately, kind hands pulled stray hair back from my face.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the cool breeze hitting my neck, the gentle tugs at my scalp as the messy braid from two mornings ago was undone and reworked.

A stubborn piece of swamp debris caught my cheek as it was flicked into the ocean.

“Dibs on the bathing sponge,” I mumbled in English, only half-aware.

“Would talking help?” Luthri asked, letting the new braid fall against my back. One of his hands, big and warm, made contact with the spot between my shoulder blades and moved in unhurried circles, sending pleasant ripples through my body. My eyes closed again.

“You could try,” I agreed in a whisper.

Lu didn’t hesitate. “I was born in the eighth cycle under the First Quarter moon, second of my brood. Talithri, my sister, was last and smallest. They weren’t sure she would survive.

My mother told me that I hugged her constantly to share body heat, even though we were both babes.

She seemed to think it was out of a desire to help.

I never told her this, but… I think I must have simply been a hungry thing and mistaken my sister for my mother’s breast.”

A chuckle tore from my sore throat, leading to another bout of retching.

As Lu continued to speak, his hand never faltered in its soothing pattern.

“We competed for our parents’ attention those first few years.

Most would say it was innocent sibling rivalry, but it could be cutthroat at times.

We were often kicked out of the house so that our mother could work without being interrupted.

By our early teens, we’d gotten through the worst of it, thank the Goddess.

Turned our attention to schooling, helping with the family business on the side. ”

My head raised. “Your father?” I croaked.

“Oh, he was a land surveyor. Always traveling, away for long stretches of time.”

I took a few deep, cleansing breaths of sea air to soothe my sore throat before offering a story from my own past. “My mam?e—mother, I mean—was a teacher, from what I remember. Father was a sanitation worker, cleaning trash. I’d stay with my grandparents or cousins during the day.

One time, my cousins and I were playing hide and seek—it’s a game, you know, where someone hides and tries not to be found.

I climbed onto the roof. Suppertime came, the others went to eat, and I realized I couldn’t get down. ”

Luthri’s hand on my back paused. “Did you call for help?”

“And lose the game? Of course not. I stayed up there until my parents started calling neighbors together to help look for me. Someone spotted me eventually. I went without dinner that night.” I fell quiet, watching the water ebb and flow as the ship cut through.

Should I keep going? Friends shared these kinds of things, didn’t they?

It took a few seconds to build up the courage, but I continued.

“I think I always hesitated to rely on others. Even before I left… home. Back then, it was out of a desire to not be a burden on anyone. To not… take more of their attention than was my share. After that, I didn’t have great experiences with the people I came across.

Don’t want to get attached to someone who isn’t going to stick around, you know? ”

That wasn’t entirely true. I’d been friendly with everyone who’d tagged along with our group over the years, even the ones who didn’t stay long.

My problem had more to do with the people I’d known during my last few years on Earth, but that wasn’t easy to explain without additional context.

Where could I begin? Clarifying would take more effort than it was worth.

Luthri hadn’t said anything in a while, which meant that I could change the subject. It might have been the coward’s way out, but I took the opportunity .

“I always wanted to make myself wings,” I said, raising my gaze enough that I could study the shadowy clouds on the horizon, their edges lined in moonlight.

“I could never get it right—the combination of feather shapes, the right muscles, and the wingspan needed to get me off the ground. Maybe when I get the making magic down, you’d let me study yours? ”

Luthri’s hand vanished from my back. I mourned its comforting weight.

He came to lean on the railing next to me, on my right this time, and trained his gaze on the same view.

The ocean breeze carried with it his signature scent of caramelized oranges and spice.

Breathing in, I closed my eyes to savor it.

Was it weird? Maybe. But it settled my stomach.

My eyes opened again when the quality of silence changed.

I couldn’t put it into words. Maybe it had something to do with the low set of Lu’s brow, the way his eyes narrowed at the horizon as though it personally offended him.

The shadows in the sky were reflected in his deep gold irises, and his ears didn’t stand to attention the way they usually did.

I knew that look, though I hadn’t seen it on him before.

Had I inadvertently touched on a sore topic?

When he opened his mouth, the words were low but clear.

“My people mate for life,” he began, absently tilting his head from side to side to release the tension in his neck.

He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “There’s an elaborate process to it.

First, the male courts the female—sweet words, gifts, acts of grooming.

This can take many weeks or months. Sometimes even revolutions.

If the female decides to return our affections, we perform a showing.

It’s a rather silly thing, that. The male flaunts his physical prowess and shows off his wings with a series of exercises or dances.

Finally, they perform a mating flight together, which culminates, of course, in sex. ”

I was tempted to ask him to get to the point, but something told me not to interrupt. Instead, I watched his profile, watched his chest deflate as an exhale left him. Gave him time, like he’d given me. His next words were spoken so quietly, I almost missed them.

“I can’t fly.”

That got my attention. I stared, mouth ajar, caught somewhere between wanting to ask questions and expressing my condolences.

His expression softened into something serene, even as a sad smile graced his lips.

He kept going without prompting. “My wings are useless. Deformed. They have been since birth. So I’m afraid I couldn’t help you. ”

Since birth? That didn’t…

“Isn’t your mom a mender?” What kind of mother would leave her son like that?

“The best,” Lu assured me, a note of pride entering his tone.

“But alas, she couldn’t do much. Conditions you’re born with…

They’re usually impossible to heal. They’re working on addressing such defects in the womb, before the body is fully formed, but the technique hasn’t been developed yet.

In fact, it’s one of my mother’s passions because of me. ”

At my look of devastation, he hurried to reassure me.

“It’s all right. I came to terms with the fact that I’d never find a lifemate of my kind a long time ago.

And as for my silly, self-serving quest, I had the thought—or the hope, perhaps—that maybe, if I was thorough enough, I could find another race…

more specifically, a person, who was both compatible with me and able to look past my abnormality. ”

He shifted to the side, opening his body to face me.

His hands locked together in front of him, so tightly that the color washed from his knuckles—at odds with the relaxed slant of his hips and the softness of his words.

Those discerning owl eyes must have picked up the indecision written across my features, as he offered me a small, endlessly patient smile.

I turned my attention back to the ocean’s dark valleys and peaks dotted by silver foam.

I wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was all right and that he’d find someone, but it was never that easy, was it?

Especially when you’d lived your whole life a certain way, had the same thoughts about yourself all the while, and gotten comfortable with that.

Deep-set beliefs didn’t adjust in a blink because someone said something on the contrary.

And… I couldn’t promise that I was that person. Not even for the sake of his feelings.

I let myself drift two steps to the right along with the motion of the ship, which landed me squarely against a firm chest. Luthri’s arm came around my shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured above me.

It was tempting to argue that I had him , but rather than disturb the comfortable silence with semantics, I let him have the last word.

Leaning into the heat of his body, I nuzzled at his chest until I found the steady thump-thump of his heart and pressed into it.

My arm, tucked between us, encircled his waist and squeezed. He squeezed back.

Goddess, what a firm man.

When had I last held someone? Been held like this?

I’d almost forgotten what it was like. I was irrationally pleased when my nose caught a hint of musky swamp water underneath the sweet orange.

That proved a barrel of water and a washcloth only went so far, even for him.

It would have been entirely unfair if he went around smelling glorious all the time.

Lips brushed my forehead, painting a path from my temple to the ridge above my right eye. I was too aware of their suppleness, their warmth. The way my skin sang at the contact. When Luthri sighed, his breath ruffled the hair atop my head, making my scalp prickle.

“I would kiss you right now,” he whispered, “but you absolutely reek .”

I huffed a laugh against his pectoral. “Some other time,” I told him. And, since it didn’t feel right to sit in silence after sharing such a poignant moment, I added, “You could sing that shanty from before now, if you wanted to. The one about the blonde girl.”

A grin split Luthri’s face from ear to ear. All too happy to accommodate me, he cleared his throat and began to sing. His voice was deep and smooth—untrained, but not unpleasant.

“ I once knew a girl from a port down south

With golden hair and a mighty skilled mouth.

She was tan and lean and as tall as a tree

With a bosom that just begged to be free.

And when the days at sea led to nights at sea,

I was glad to have a girl in my bed for free.

She could take any man to the promised land,

Now I have to settle for my hand… ”