Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

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T he word “alone” had barely left my lips when the first thud sounded on the deck above us. Clutching the dagger, I charged up the stairs, Sylvie on my heels.

“Stay put,” I ordered over my shoulder, but I knew it was useless. I’d seen her on the battlefield often enough to know she wouldn’t cower in the cabin while others fought. Which meant she’d slow me down.

Chilly night air hit my face as I burst onto the upper deck, dagger ready. My heart pounded as my mind flashed to Scarrok, but the shapes swarming the deck were human. Pirates. They moved with easy agility, vaulting the ship’s railings from a sloop drawn alongside us. Large hooks curled over the railing, keeping their smaller vessel attached to the ship.

One man swung toward me, his sword raised. I ducked and drove my shoulder into his midsection, sending him staggering backward. A second followed, and my dagger caught him across the forearm. He howled, dropping his weapon.

But more men took their places.

A grunt jerked my attention to the left. Sylvie battled a pirate with Skycleaver, her shirt rippling around her bare legs. She must have grabbed the sword as I rushed up the stairs.

She wielded it with skill now, parrying the man’s thrusts. The Covenant has stolen her magic, but she retained her elven speed, ducking under the man’s blade and then popping upright to bury her sword in his gut.

The pirate’s eyes widened as he slid from her blade, his body crumpling to the deck. Blood gleamed black in the moonlight. Sylvie didn’t pause, already pivoting toward another attacker.

“Behind you!” I shouted, hurling my dagger at a man lunging for her back. The blade caught him in the shoulder, not a killing blow but enough to make him stumble. It bought me time to cross the deck, seizing a fallen sword as I went.

The ship pitched beneath our feet as more pirates swarmed aboard. I counted eight men, their faces obscured by scarves and hoods. They moved with practiced coordination—not random brigands but a crew that had done this before, boarding ships in the middle of the night and killing the watch so they could steal whatever cargo they stumbled upon.

Well, they weren’t stealing the King of the Spring Court.

A burly man with a scarred face rushed me, and I barely managed to parry his blow. The clash of steel rang across the deck as we traded strikes. In the corner of my eye, Sylvie engage with another pirate, her movements sure and deadly. She killed the man with a slice across his throat, then whirled to face the next. Pride beat in sync with my heart. She might have lost her magic, but she was still lethal.

My opponent pressed me hard, forcing me back against the rail. He brought his sword down with bone-jarring force, and I caught it awkwardly on my borrowed blade. The impact vibrated down my arm to my shoulder, which quickly went numb. Grimacing, I punched his ribs with my free hand. He snarled and pressed harder, his blade nearing the tip of my nose.

Sylvie appeared behind him. “Hey, ugly!”

The man whirled. His face met Skycleaver’s point as Sylvie drove it through his eye socket. He didn’t even scream—just crumpled, his weapon clattering to the deck.

I locked eyes with Sylvie over the falling body. Understanding flashed between us.

She’d saved my life.

No time to dwell on it. More pirates swarmed the deck. I dispatched one, then another. Within moments, bodies littered the deck. No additional pirates jumped the railing. Relief and victory pumped through me, bringing a rush of new energy. I flicked blood from my blade as I swung around, looking for Sylvie. Across the deck, she turned from a fallen opponent. Fear flooded her face as she fixed her gaze on a spot behind me.

“Watch—!”

Something hard slammed into my back—the hilt of a sword, maybe an elbow—sending me stumbling toward the stairwell. I lost my footing and tumbled downward, my shoulder crashing against each step. A pirate followed, leaping down after me.

We crashed through the cabin door together, my sword lost in the fall. The pirate was older but built like a horse, muscle bulging beneath his patched jacket. Age had obviously lent him experience, and he knew not to grapple with me. I was bigger and stronger—and likely to incapacitate him despite my lack of a weapon.

He jumped to his feet and then danced backward, stopping a safe distance away from the bunk. He held a small but wicked-looking dagger with a curvy blade, and gratitude rushed me that he hadn’t plunged it into my gut when we fell down the stairs.

The pirate’s gaze landed on Tanyl, who had managed to leave the bunk and grab a knife. He gripped it, his free hand clutching the headboard. His face was gray and pinched with pain, but his eyes burned with cold fury.

I scrambled to my feet. I was the closest to the door, but it did me little good with the pirate blocking my path to Tanyl. My sword gleamed on the ground near the foot of the bunk, moonlight reflecting off the blade. I’d have to dart around the pirate to get it. Before I could make a move, Sylvie appeared in the doorway with Skycleaver in her hand. She pointed the elven sword at the pirate.

“Get away from him.”

The pirate sneered, his gaze traveling slowly down her bare legs before returning to her face. His grin widened, revealing blackened teeth as he gazed at her pointed ears.

“We don’t get many elves this side of the Covenant,” he said. He pulled his gaze off her long enough to glance at Tanyl. “You’re both so pretty. All that long hair and smooth skin.” He licked his lips. “It’s hard to tell you apart.”

Sylvie’s jaw tightened. “You don’t have to worry about it. You’re going to die.”

I eased toward my fallen sword. The pirate jerked his head toward me, and I froze as he stared at the sigils on my neck. He let his gaze wander down my arm, and his eyes widened slightly when he spotted the chain around my wrist.

“Rivven,” he said gruffly. Lifting his head, he gave me an assessing look. “You’ve probably never seen a woman, have you, boy? What are you doing on this ship? Trying to get a taste of pussy?” A sly glint appeared in his eyes, and he tipped his grizzled head toward Tanyl. “Or maybe a taste of ass.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Although, you Rivven probably roll over for each other all the time. Beggars can’t be choosers, eh?”

His was a time-tested battle tactic. He was outnumbered, and he meant to provoke me into rushing him. Angry, I was more likely to make a mistake, and he could disable me before Sylvie reached him. He’d identified me as the more formidable opponent, although, perhaps he shouldn’t have.

“I told you to step away,” Sylvie said, drawing his gaze. She gave me an opening, and I continued inching toward the sword.

No, the old pirate had erred in deeming her the weaker adversary.

“You don’t have your magic now, do you, love?” he said, his smirk growing. “You’re about as threatening as a gnat. But you’re a pretty piece. You and your man. I think I’ll have a turn with you both.”

He lunged for the sword, snatching it from the ground before I could reach it. Instead of going for Sylvie, he spun and plunged his dagger toward Tanyl’s chest.

Sylvie was across the cabin before I could shout, her hand between the dagger and Tanyl. The blade sliced her fingers, and she gripped it, closing her hand around the blade as she thrust her knee hard into the pirate’s groin.

He doubled over, his bellow of pain echoing through the cabin. The sword clattered to the floor. Tanyl seized the moment and thrust his knife into the pirate’s flank. Blood spilled across the floorboards as the man collapsed, a death rattle emerging from his throat. A second later, he went limp.

Sylvie flung the dagger away, blood streaming from her palm. She turned to Tanyl, who slumped against the edge of the bunk, his face the color of the sheets.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded. She lifted her hands like she wanted to touch him. Blood soaked her sleeve and dripped between her fingers, and she quickly lowered her hand.

“No.” Tanyl’s voice held a strained quality. He pushed away from the bunk, a raw expression on his face. “But you are.”

I kicked the dead pirate aside and moved to Sylvie. “Let me see.”

She hesitated. Then she extended her hand. The dagger had sliced across four fingers in a diagonal line. The cuts were deep but they didn’t extend to the bone. She was lucky.

“It needs binding,” I said. “Don’t move.” I fetched strips of linen from the table where I’d set up supplies for treating Tanyl. When I returned to the bunk, Tanyl watched Sylvie with the same raw, slightly arrested look in his eyes.

“Fingers,” I demanded, unraveling strips of cloth. When Sylvie offered her hand, I bound the wounds as tightly as I could, tying the strips with the same knots sailors used on rigging.

“Ow!” she protested, jerking her gaze up. “That hurts.”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” I grunted. “It’ll stop the bleeding.”

She made a disapproving sound. Then she muttered, “I think healers just say that so their patients can’t untie the knots.”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “There might be a little truth to that.” I examined my work, satisfaction wending through me. “There. You’ll be good as new by Eura.” I looked up.

She stared at me. Tanyl stared at her. The pirate’s blood spread at our feet. Seven others were dead upstairs. But the battle was over. The three of us were alive. Because of Sylvie.

“You saved my life,” Tanyl rasped, dipping his gaze to her bandaged hand. Blood splattered her shirt and her naked legs. It streaked her cheek and neck. More had began to dry on her bare feet.

“And mine,” I said. She hadn’t hesitated. On the contrary, she’d put herself at grave risk more than once. One wrong move—one slip on the deck—and she would have fallen under a pirate’s sword. But she’d fought anyway, pitting herself against opponents despite missing her magic.

She looked down. Shook her head. Moonlight turned her hair to silver, and it sparkled in the tear that cut a slow path through the blood on her cheek. She looked at Tanyl, her eyes wide and haunted.

“I love you,” she whispered. “You don’t have to believe me. But I know it’s true. That will be enough.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I have to hope it’s enough.”

Tanyl stared at her with fresh pain in his eyes. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the headboard, but this time, I didn’t think it was to keep from falling. He’d already done that, long ago when he journeyed to the Sancta Sestra and stole a bride from the gods.

“I love you, too,” he rasped. “But you ripped my heart out, Sylvie. I don’t…” He sucked in a breath. “Healing it isn’t as easy as wrapping it up and tying a knot.”

Tears clung to her eyelashes, making them spiky. “I know.”

Silence fell, and sorrow filled the spaces between us. My broken vows were the least of our problems.

Our problems. My heart sped up. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped thinking of myself as someone alone. I had bigger problems now. Messier problems. But I shared them with two other people.

I went to the other side of the cabin and opened the windows. Fresh air rushed in, chasing away the stench of blood. The river lapped gently against the side of the ship. No more men’s shouts. No more steel. Just the quiet whisper of the river.

“We need to deal with the bodies,” I said, turning back to Sylvie and Tanyl. “I’ll dump them overboard and then cut the pirate ship loose. We’ll reach Newgulch by morning. Then we’ll keep going until Mistport.” I gestured to Tanyl. “When we get there, we’ll figure out how to fix you.”

Tanyl seemed to rouse from a dream. “All right,” he said slowly. “We’ll do all…that.”

I nodded. Easy things first. Fixing the hole in his chest was easy compared to repairing his relationship with Sylvie. But maybe I could help with that too. Not with bandages or knots. I had to think about it. But we had time.

“We all need sleep,” I said.

Sylvie cleared her throat. “You need sleep more than anyone. I’ll take the first watch on the deck.” She waited, uncertainty in her eyes as she turned to Tanyl. It was obvious she waited for him to object—to declare her too untrustworthy to watch over us while we slept.

Tanyl nodded. “All right.”

There. A little bit of trust. It was something. A start.

Now, we kept going. But that part was easy too. The river flowed to the ocean. I just had to keep steering us straight.