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Chapter Twenty-Five

SYLVIE

D ried meat and cold beans were a hard knot in my stomach as I watched Briar tend Tanyl.

I sat in the chair, which I assumed was where I’d spend the rest of the journey to Mistport. Rope burned my wrists. With every breath, the fibers pierced my shirt and pricked my skin. Dirt stained my fingernails. My scalp itched, and the stench of sweat and river water clung to my skin.

I deserved worse.

Briar’s voice was soft as he helped Tanyl prop himself against the pillows. The bunk was generously sized, which meant it had probably belonged to the captain. Still, Tanyl’s bulk filled it, his broad shoulders golden against the white linens. Even wounded and weakened, he was magnificent to behold.

And I was absolutely wretched for admiring his body when I’d nearly gotten him killed.

Guilt swamping me, I looked at the floor. My thoughts spun, my discussion with Tanyl circling my mind. Was it possible someone had planted the message in the godswell? Had Crispin planted it?

He’d always been ambitious. Like our father before him, he was proud. And politically savvy. Unlike many lords, Crispin reveled in court intrigue and backstabbing. He traded in gossip, using it to build our family’s wealth and position. He’d risen higher than any Lord of the Silver Sea when he become the head of Tanyl’s Council. But would he stoop to murder?

The knot in my stomach tightened, memories of Crispin’s final stare seared into my memory. He’d planned his coup, gathering knights from afar. Sailing them downriver so he could flank Tanyl’s forces. It was treason.

And I’d played a prominent part in it. My brother had manipulated me. I’d been such a fool.

And yet…the Scarrok were missing. Briar didn’t lie. If I had to guess, he was incapable of falsehood. What were the chances of sailing from Storm’s Hollow all the way across the Covenant without encountering a single Scarrok?

The king must bleed to put the rivers to rest. If the curse was truly broken, my mother might finally be at peace.

Tears burned my throat. If nothing else good had come of my actions, at least I’d accomplished that.

“…another day until Newgulch,” Briar was saying to Tanyl, his voice low as he straightened from the bunk. “And then another day and a half until Mistport. Once we reach the Citadel, we’ll go directly to Grand Master Silas. He’s the best healer among the Rivven. He’ll know how to treat that wound.”

Tanyl’s eyes were sharp. “And what if he can’t?”

“He can,” Briar said firmly. “We’re not going to talk about alternatives.”

A tired smile played around Tanyl’s mouth. “I thought you were a soldier. Don’t you plan for everything?”

Briar shook his head, something raw flickering in his eyes. “Not that.”

The quiet admission filled the cabin. I looked away, its weight too heavy. They belonged to each other. And neither belonged to me. Not anymore.

After a moment, Briar moved toward me. “I found a cot in the cargo hold,” he muttered, leaning down and working at the ropes around my wrists. “It’s not a featherbed, but you’ll sleep more comfortably.”

“Thanks,” I said before I remembered he didn’t want to hear it.

He grunted, his fingers warm against my skin, and I pressed my lips together as heat built low in my body. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t control my reaction to these men?

The ship rocked gently, the lanterns along the walls flickering. They cast a soft glow over the cabin’s rich, glossy wood. As I struggled to ignore my desire, awareness tingled through me. I looked past Briar and found Tanyl watching me.

His expression hardened. He turned his head on the pillow and looked out the windows behind the bunk.

An ache shot across my heart. Moonlight spilled over him, highlighting the hard muscle of his chest. Probably, I’d never get to feel it again. Never get to touch him. What would become of us after we reached Mistport?

“Do you want anything else to eat?” Briar asked gruffly. He loomed over me, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a grim line.

“I’d love a bath,” I blurted before I could think better of it. Embarrassment flooded me in a hot wave. Heating and hauling water was an onerous task even under the most favorable circumstances. On a ship, it was drudgery.

Briar looked at Tanyl.

“I’m sorry,” I said, misery wrapping around me. “I didn’t think.”

Tanyl’s smile was hard enough to cut glass. “A pattern, it seems.”

I couldn’t control my flinch. Another apology formed on my tongue, but I swallowed it. No matter what I said, it only seemed to make everything worse.

“I can bring water,” Briar said.

I held my breath, waiting for Tanyl to say yes or no. Waiting. I’d always been good at it. But not now.

Now, everything was different.

“Fine,” he said, his gaze locked with mine. “But she’ll bathe here.” He pointed to a spot on the floor halfway between us. “Where I can keep an eye on her.”