Page 12 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Twelve

NILSA

I ’m completely alone when I wake for the second time. The warm rays of the sun linger on the horizon, and their light reflects off the waves outside my window and straight into my face.

Ugh, I’m rising with the sun like a true Solar. Kill me now.

It’s only when I stretch out on the covers and feel smooth silk instead of plain cotton that I realise something’s wrong.

It jars me enough that I bolt upright with a gasp.

The room looks like my cabin, but it’s not. There are details that are plain wrong, like the dark silk sheets and the blurry mist which covers the walls.

“Easy,” a familiar voice cuts through the soft creaking of the ship.

“Klaus?” I grimace as I notice him sitting on the edge of the bed.

Damn, if Val had just let me finish carving those sigils this dream wouldn’t be happening, and I might have managed a few more seconds before my coven tracked me down .

Klaus looks different today. His hair, previously unruly and messy, has been forced back into a leather tie at the base of his neck and he’s wearing more clothes than before. It’s a military uniform, all gold buttons and stiff lines. But it’s not like any I’ve seen before. There’s a jacket and a cape, but the right sleeve is missing, exposing his muscles and tattoos. In place of a high collar and cuffs, he wears thick golden bands which circle his throat and wrists. A line of medals dangles from his chest, the symbols on them as strange as the tattoos.

Like before, he doesn’t wear trousers, instead he’s wearing gladiator-style pteruges, tipped in more gold. I suppose that’s so he can shift to his siren form when he needs to, but I end up just admiring the strength of his thighs.

The uniform looks good on him, but I’m not about to give my dream stalker a compliment.

“You’re a soldier?”

He smirks, “I’m a man of many talents.”

“I suppose the medals prove that…” I stare at the gold clips on his epaulettes and frown. “You’re high ranking?”

“As high as a man of my position can be.” He keeps his answers evasive, and it makes me suspicious. “If my rank was any higher I’d have to sit at a desk, and battle is too fun for me to risk that,” he pauses. “Do you disapprove?”

“Why does it matter if I do or not?”

“Sirenae women are the warriors in our culture. Males are meant to serve their mates, not fight.”

I want to snort at the absurdity, “Fight all you want. Witches don’t have mates, so you can forget about my approval.”

He stares at me with those shimmering blue eyes. “No. I don’t think I could forget about you if I tried.”

“Try harder. I’ve told you before, I don’t have time for a mate.”

“Maybe you’d feel differently if I could court you in person,” he says. “If you tell me where you are, I’ll gladly put all of my considerable talent into convincing you.”

The words hover on my tongue, but I hold them back through force of will. Klaus may seem flirty and harmless, but I’m not stupid enough to reveal my location in a suspicious dream while on the run from other witches.

“I’ll pass.”

Rap, rap, rap.

Klaus doesn’t react to the sound, and I frown.

“What is that?”

Klaus shrugs, looking forlornly over my shoulder. “I imagine the sound of the end of our time together.”

“Lady Solar, are you well?” I recognise Nos’s voice, but it’s strangely distant.

Klaus’s eyes narrow. “Who is this male?”

“No one,” I grumble, looking around for the source of the voice.

The dream is fading, the detail leaching from the world and turning it to a foggy, murky grey which then fades to black.

“Nilsa?”

Nos’s voice drags me out of the dream completely, and I jolt straight into a sitting position. The dream and reality are indistinguishable for a long moment until another knock shatters the silence.

“What?” I snap, then curse. “Sorry. Just… give me a second.”

The knocking stops and I roll onto my front with a groan, stretching and grimacing at the state of the robes I fell asleep in.

The white fabric is creased, and my mouth feels drier than the desert. I don’t have a mirror, but I know I look like a hot mess .

I take a dab of magic, just enough to smooth out the fabric and remove the lingering traces of sleep from my body.

When I swing the door open, it's just the seer on the other side, which is a relief. I don’t think I have it in me to take the intensity of the others right now.

“Sorry!” Nos apologises as soon as I see him. “I wanted to let you rest, but Cas thought you might be hungry.” He’s staring a little bit past me, as usual, but I smile softly at him, anyway.

Of course, now he’s brought it up, I’m suddenly starving.

“Thanks, I was just exhausted from last night,” I mutter.

Opal chooses that moment to start winding around my feet, making my exit from my room into an awkward dance as I try to move around her.

When she almost trips Nos over, I give her a glare and she wisely decides to pack it in.

“It’s early afternoon.” Nos manages to keep pace with me as I make for the galley. “The others waited for you, and Val still wants to talk…”

I stiffen. “What about?”

Nos just shrugs. “With him, it could be anything.”

That’s not reassuring, but I wipe the grimace off my face as we step into the galley with its adjoining mess. None of the others are here yet so I take the opportunity to walk straight to the barrel of oats I used yesterday. I scoop out a handful at a time, transforming each bunch into a fresh, steaming bread roll by borrowing a tiny dash of magic from Opal’s stores.

“That smells amazing.”

I hand one of the rolls to Nos with a smile. “Thanks.”

I grab a bowl and ladle fresh water into it, followed by a few chunks of meat from the salt-filled barrel in the corner and a few pickles from the jar. A wave of my hand turns the disgusting mix into fresh, perfectly seasoned beef stew with fresh vegetables .

I place it in front of the Seer, then go to pass him his spoon like I’ve seen Cas do.

“Don’t,” he whispers, before I can pick it up. “I lost my brother when he became my caretaker. I won’t lose—” He clears his throat. “I don’t need another person trying to wipe my ass for me.”

Stupid, stubborn male.

I roll my eyes but leave him to it. It’s painful to watch him feel around the table to locate the cutlery, then stab awkwardly at the bowl.

But hey, it’s not my job to cure his overdeveloped sense of masculine pride.

I finish transforming another four bowls of stew and lay them out across the table then take a mug of water and transform it into blood for Rysen.

Feeding the vampire was one of the hottest moments of my life, but I will give myself away if I continue to do it long term.

I just won’t be able to stop myself from screwing him silly.

I take my spot next to Nos just as he manages to take his first mouthful and smile as he groans.

It’s kind of nice to have someone appreciate my magic.

I watch him eat in silence, slurping my own stew from a spoon. With their immortal noses, it doesn’t take the others long to realise that food is ready, and one by one they slip into the room.

Kier is first, silently grabbing his bowl and choosing the seat furthest from me. Cas follows shortly after, hair still wet as though he’s just dragged himself out of the ocean. He takes the seat on my other side, surrounding me with the heat from both shifters.

Then comes Rysen. The vampire stops dead at the sight of his mug of blood. The dark look which falls across his face as he sits and sips at it makes me bite my lip. But he says nothing.

Still no sign of Valorean. Perhaps Fate is granting me a reprieve for once.

Or perhaps, she’s just waiting until I lower my guard.

The captain strolls in like he owns the place—okay, so technically he does—and the arrogance in his steps have my hackles rising on instinct.

He grabs his bowl and takes a seat, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table. He doesn’t bother with a spoon, instead tipping the bowl up to drink from it like the pig he is.

Rysen just glowers and pushes his boots off.

Val rolls his eyes but notices the vampire’s dark look and wisely doesn’t try again.

Instead, he turns his attention to me.

“Protection sigils,” he grumbles. “Assuming they’re actually any good, and you’re not just going to do a hack job, how much do you want for them?”

Rysen chokes on his blood. Cas looks like he’s about to die from holding in laughter, Nos just smiles serenely, and Kier rolls his eyes.

I flutter my lashes and give him my best innocent expression. “Are you concerned about little old me, Captain?”

“No. But you owe me for turning my munitions into furniture.”

“I already said I’d give you your balls back when I leave.”

Cas snorts, earning him Val’s best death glare.

“You’ve also destroyed our storm sails, which is a death sentence at sea. The least you can do is make the ship a bit sturdier so we’re not dead in the water the moment a strong wind comes.”

But I’m already mentally doing the sums in my head. A new broom is going to cost me a handful of gold, at the very least. More if I need it to be strong enough to cross between islands. If I can get at least half of that from Val, I might be able to take on one or two contracts from Alletta to cover the rest.

“Twenty gold,” I mutter. “And no more insults about my cooking.”

His eyes gleam, but he doesn’t say anything for a long time, sipping thoughtfully at his stew. “Five should be more than enough, since I’m the one who has to endure being carved up.”

“I can make it painful,” I promise. “Ten or I don’t do it at all.”

Val’s eyes narrow. “Ten,” he agrees. “But if you do a hack job on my ship, I’ll end you, witch.”

Cas growls beside me, his eyes glowing as his whole body seems to swell. This time, he doesn’t even get the words out before he springs from his seat and launches himself at the wall.

Val just sighs, the boards springing open to allow the tormented shifter to fly through the gap and into the dark water below.

I barely catch the golden sparks of his transformation before the boards snap shut.

“Val,” Rysen’s tone is light, but the warning is unmistakable.

The Captain just ignores him, his dark eyes still focused on me. “Do we have a deal?”

Do I have a choice?

“We do,” I mutter, still staring after Cas.

Valorean grabs his bowl and raises it to his lips, throwing his whole head back to swallow the last of his stew. His Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp, doing funny things to my insides .

No. Just no. I’d rather fuck a troll than admit to finding the arrogant captain attractive.

As if sensing my traitorous thoughts, the mage slams down his bowl and shoots me the haughtiest look imaginable before standing and kicking his chair back. Val takes one last look around the table before he turns and strides through the wall.

“Let’s get this over with.” His words echo around the room despite his absence.