Page 13 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Thirteen

NILSA

H e doesn’t wait for me, but there’s no mistaking where he wants me to go.

The instant I step out of the galley, the door slams shut behind me and a ladder drops down from the ceiling. The rest of the corridor that had been here before is gone, completely blocked off by walls which didn't exist an hour ago. If not for the ladder, I could almost believe I’d taken the wrong door and wandered into a closet instead.

The quiet snick of the lock engaging on the door behind me serves to drive home Val’s point.

It’s up the ladder or nothing.

Gah, controlling, irritating mage!

I take one deep breath then start to climb. The ladder continues for some time and I can only assume he’s taking me up on deck. The very thought makes my palms sweaty and I hate myself a little more for the weakness as I approach the end and stick my head over the lip of the trapdoor .

It’s not what I expect.

I emerge into a cluttered office. It’s the sort of room where every surface is covered in multiple layers of junk but in such a way that there is some order evident amongst the chaos. The walls are plastered in maps, charts, and shelves full of complex nautical instruments I can’t identify. On one side, a set of double doors undoubtedly leads onto the deck, while opposite them a wall of sloping windows, bordered with stained glass waves, allows the occupant to look out into the vast emptiness of the ocean.

I quickly pull my gaze away from the terrifying emptiness of the horizon and back into the cabin.

Nothing here really surprises me. It makes sense that Val is a good navigator after Goddess-only-knows how many years he’s spent bonded to this ship.

But the layer of dust covering everything is unexpected.

Val himself is lounging on an overstuffed armchair behind a huge desk. His feet are propped up on top of a pile of papers, eyes fixed on me in a silent challenge.

“You can carve it there,” he says, pointing at a spot on the floor beside him.

I start shaking my head before he’s even finished talking. “It won’t work if I put it there.”

“What’s the difference between there and your doorframe?” he snaps. “My ship, my rules. It goes there.”

“Placement is as important as the sigil itself. The only thing a protection sigil on the floor is good for is protecting your boat from a leaky hull. You want defending from attackers? Then it has to go by the door.”

Val’s eyes narrow. “The Deadwood is a ship not a fucking boat.”

I just roll my eyes at him.

“Fine,” he spits. “Get on with it. ”

I draw the hidden blade from my boot, ignoring his pointed look, and turn toward the door, uncomfortable with giving the mage my back.

I hesitate before the metal can make contact with the wood.

This spot will do, but if he wants the sigil to work best, it needs to be in a room with some emotional attachment to the owner. If I was tattooing Val, it would go over his heart. This office, with its dusty papers and clutter, isn’t one he uses regularly. He certainly doesn’t treat it like a space he cares for.

He won’t listen if I tell him.

He’ll probably try to snap my head off for trying.

Still, I have to try.

“You know, it would be more effective in a room you actually gave a shit about.”

The temperature of the room drops. The hairs on the back of my arms stand on end.

I feel his breath on my nape a second before he says, “Do you want that gold or not, witch?”

The threat in his words is a challenge, and I whip my head around to answer it.

He’s already gone.

“Carve the fucking sigils.”

I give his disembodied voice the finger, then curse myself.

I’m supposed to be playing the part of demure Solar. How am I supposed to keep my identity a secret when every word out of the asshole’s mouth makes me want to stab something?

I turn back to the door with a sigh. Speaking of stabbing…

I start carving.

I don’t feel guilt as I strike the knife into the wood and begin the first sigil. Nope. Not at all.

I hope the stupid captain feels every cut .

RYSEN

“She’s hiding something.”

Val’s words aren’t a surprise; he doesn’t trust anyone. But the certainty behind them makes me pause.

“She’s young, terrified, and on the run,” I grunt, turning to face him.

I’ve taken a seat on the stern with my feet hanging over the edge of the ship to keep an eye out for Cas. The shifter has been gone for hours and now dusk lingers on the horizon, the moon already in the sky. It’s not the first time he’s been gone for so long, but it is the longest he’s spent away from the ship since our mate came aboard.

Only, watching the waves for Cas has somehow turned into listening to the noises Nilsa makes as she moves around her cabin below me. She paces a lot, but beneath the sound of her moving is the sound of her heartbeat. I’m addicted to that soft beat, the twin of the one she unknowingly awoke in me with her first touch.

Val isn’t happy with my response and subsequent silence. He paces the deck like a caged lion in a subconscious echo of Nilsa’s movements below. He’s forgone a shirt, exposing the tiny line of red sigils down his left side.

Part of me is jealous. I want our mate to mark me with her magic. I shake off the feeling before it can develop into something more. Vampires are notoriously territorial—all immortal males are—but Val is Nilsa’s too, even if the grumpy ass doesn’t want to admit it.

Subconsciously, he must know he’s hers now. He wouldn’t be showing off her marks like a preening peacock if he didn’t.

“Not to mention how tiny she is in comparison to the ship full of immortal males. She wouldn’t stand a chance if we decided to turn on her.” The difference is startling, her fragility obvious. “I’d be more surprised if she wasn’t keeping her cards close to her chest,” I finish.

“Terrified,” Val scoffs, shoving a hand through his pearly white locks. “Are we talking about the same woman? She spends her every waking moment tormenting me.”

I turn back to the waves. “So, your only evidence for her deception is the fact that she can stand up to you? Face it. She’s your mate and you’re scared.”

“Why should I be scared of someone who’s not going to be troubling me much longer?” Val raises a brow. “She’s getting off at Port Evert.”

His words are a blow, but I can’t say I didn’t expect them.

“She took the gold. I suspect she plans to use it to get herself a new life away from all of us. We'll go on to Ilyani, then make the drop at Galmere before the Eagle decides to make good on her threat." He grumbles the last part.

I stand, my height dwarfing Val’s. “Where Nilsa goes, I follow.”

His jaw drops almost comically. “Just like that? You barely know the witch.”

I don’t have to. She’s mine and I’m hers. Nothing else matters.

“She’s trouble,” Val insists.

“Mine,” I growl back, fangs lengthening.

“She doesn’t want you! She shuts herself in her cabin and pretends you don’t exist. But you’re all following her around like a bunch of lovesick puppies!”

“She’s scared.” I can hear his heartbeat. Feel the blood rushing through his veins. It’ll be easy to drain him. I’d do worse to defend my mate’s honour.

“Bullshit!” His eyes flash.

“Enough.”

Nos’s quiet word drags me out of the blood-frenzy. The red haze I hadn’t even noticed fills my vision and I blink it away, stomach sinking with guilt. Somehow, I’ve ended up toe-to-toe with the captain, and I shift backwards, out of his personal space, with a grimace.

I still have to wait for my fangs to recede before I can speak again and it gives me the time I need to cool my head.

“I am… sorry.” I force the words from my mouth. “I’m not myself around her.” The apology doesn’t come easily, but Valorean doesn’t gloat the way he could.

His simple nod contains all the forgiveness necessary. After a hundred and fifty years of fighting side by side, nothing else is needed.

We both know the darkness that lingers in our hearts can make us say things—do things—against our better judgement.

“You’ll be on a quick trigger until she claims you.” Nos steps closer, clinging to the bannister as he aims his words slightly to the left of me. “I’m afraid it won’t be for a while.”

I hang my head in shame. “I know. She’s intimidated by me.” But I’m not going to let her fear stop me from keeping her safe.

Nos snorts, but I know he won’t tell me what’s so fucking funny. The Seer likes to keep his little inside jokes to himself. “She has her own problems. Witches don’t have mates like we do. It makes her choice even more precious.”

His head whips up as a bellow sounds in the deep. The dark, massive shape that is Cas’s beast passes under the boat, then flicks into the air in a shower of golden sparks. Cas drops to the deck in a spluttering, heaving pile. Skin flashing between scales and fur and skin.

“Don’t you dare fucking shift on my ship!” Val yells, all thoughts of Nilsa forgotten with the threat of his ship being dragged down by Cas’s beast .

Transmutation circles—the physical manifestation of a mage’s power—begin to glow a deep, inky violet across the deck as Val struggles to channel the magic to reinforce the ship’s hull. The same circles cover Val’s exposed skin, which takes on a metallic cast.

Cas writhes, battling to keep his beast locked down. The rest of us can only watch as his hands rake over his skin as if he’s physically trying to force himself into his own body.

Eventually, his movements slow. His breathing evens out. When his eyes finally open, they’re the deep brown that belongs to our friend, not the turquoise of his beast.

“Fuck that hurt.” His voice is rough from disuse.

Nos sighs. “No shit.”

Val’s circles fade, and he looks down at Cas in sympathy. “It hasn’t been that bad in a while.”

Cas rubs the back of his neck, hauling his naked ass off the deck. I snatch a pair of folded shorts from one of his many stashes and chuck them at him.

Yeah, we’re used to his nudity by now, but it’s still hard to have a conversation when his dick’s doing an imitation of the mainmast.

“When we found Nilsa in that ice he wanted to shift to protect her. She needed my body heat to warm up, so I promised him he could swim with her if he didn’t force the shift then. He’s getting impatient.”

A throat clears behind us. Kier’s been listening from the shadows for Goddess-knows-how-long, but the moment he has our attention his chin tilts toward the hatch creeping open on the lower deck.

Nilsa has finally left her cabin .

NILSA

It’s the combination of boredom and loneliness that drives me out of my room. Hours of pacing, staring at the ring and Glenna’s athame, and conversing with Opal slowly push me to the edge of insanity until I’m willing to face the sea if it means I get to see another living person.

I keep my eyes glued to the boards of the deck as I push the trap door open and poke my head into the fresh, night air.

It doesn’t help.

The sound of waves crashing, gulls cawing, and the smell of brine all tell my brain what my eyes refuse to. The black abyss of panic threatens to swallow me. Memories of being churned in cold, unforgiving waters play on a loop over my thoughts.

This isn’t worth it.

I’m ready to give in and retreat back to my cabin to lick my wounds when a throat clears.

“Nilsa?” Nos’s voice is as uncertain as I am. He and the others are all gathered on the deck above me beside the imposing ship’s wheel.

“It’s me,” I whisper, like it could be anyone else.

His face brightens at my words, and the smile he throws my way temporarily distracts me from the sea.

“Why are you up here?” Valorean demands.

He isn’t wearing a shirt. His lean, pale abs glisten in the fading light, throwing the red scars of my sigil marks into stark relief. They form a straight line down the left side of his abs, neat and tidy.

He didn’t utter a word when I carved them into his ship, despite the pain. I can almost admire that kind of stoicism. Almost .

The marks will fade. Sigils placed on non-witches always do.

Some Lunars purposefully mark their harems, giving them sigils for healing or strength. After the first few days all that remains is a silvery mark, like a metallic tattoo. Each witch’s magical signature is different, even though all our power comes from the Goddess, making each mark into a brand that takes a long time to heal. I should have guessed Val’s immortal healing would speed up the process.

When a Solar marks a human, their sigils fade to gold rather than silver. Will Val know the difference?

Hopefully, by the time he figures it out I’ll be long gone.

Of course, the ass mistakes my musing for appreciation. If I’m honest with myself, maybe it was. His smug smirk doesn’t help matters; I can see the cruelty in the expression, but my stupid brain thinks it’s sexy. Then he opens his mouth and I remember why I hate him.

“My eyes are up here, witch, and I asked you a question.”

I know what he asked, but I can’t think of a good reply.

Every truth I have sounds stupid: I came up here because the four walls were driving me insane; I came up here because I wanted to see them all again; I came up here because I’m used to being around a noisy, nosey coven who were my family and I feel like I’m losing it on my own.

I open my mouth, then close it.

“How long until we make land?” Changing the subject seems like the best way to go.

“By dawn,” Rysen answers before Valorean can.

“Port Evert is still on Eldcrest,” Cas adds. “Land links might be slow because of the wraiths, but there’s still a chance they could have put the word out to the guard to look for you. It would be safer if you stay aboard until we reach a different island.”

I shake my head before he can even finish. “I’ll be fine. ”

When I’m not stuck on a boat, surrounded by water and pretending to be a Solar witch, I’ll be better than fine.

I take a step down the ladder, but Nos’s voice calls me back. “Where will you go?”

I shrug. “There’s an exiled witch there, Alletta, who I hope will have a broom for sale. Once I have my own transport… who knows?”

I’ll go wherever the leads take me until I can get vengeance. If the Goddess smiles upon me, I’ll prove my innocence at the same time. If not, I’ll do whatever it takes.

Anything just to go home.

“Of course, one barely-immortal witch—alone—on a broomstick. What a great idea.” Val rolls his eyes. “Hope it goes well for you when you get dragged off your broom and eaten by a wraith for your stupidity.”

I feel the blood drain from my face as Felicity’s death flashes through my mind. Satisfaction makes Val’s face glow as he watches his words hit their mark.

But I won’t let him win. “Doesn’t your mouth ever get tired of the taste of shit?”

“Oh, does my honesty inconvenience your ego?”

“Can we all just—” Nos tries to intervene, but I cut him off.

“So now we’re talking about my ego? You need a whole boat to contain yours!”

“It’s a SHIP!” Val roars.

Several ropes anchored close to me snap free, writhing under the influence of Val’s temper.

“Argh, you’re impossible!” I retort.

“No, I’m just the only one here who’s not falling for your bullshit.”

“Valorean. Enough.” Rysen’s tone is as uncompromising as the hand he clasps the captain’s shoulder with.

I barely resist the urge to stick my tongue out at Val. But Rysen turns on me next, his rich mahogany eyes seeing straight into me despite the distance between us.

I can’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

There’s something in that stare. Something too intense.

Something I’m not ready to acknowledge.

But in looking away my eyes find Cas, whose eyes shine turquoise with his beast’s presence. The predatory gleam in them isn’t much better. Behind him, Nos’s eyes have the same intensity, but none of the colour. For once, he’s actually staring right at me and the effect is disconcerting.

Despite being blind, I have the awful feeling that Nos sees me better than anyone on this ship.

Last but not least is Kier. The fae stands in the shadows, his breath misting in a chill only he seems to feel.

Dammit. I’m directly under the scrutiny of all five pirates after the least Solar-like argument of my life.

And I have no clue how to react.

Each of them regards me differently, and somehow Val’s hatred is the easiest to deal with.

A Solar can’t curse them out for staring. A good Solar wouldn’t even notice men were staring at her.

Which leaves tactical relocation as my only option.

Not a retreat. Just a change of battleground.

“I’m going to start on dinner,” I mumble, taking another step down the ladder and letting the hatch fall closed above me.

But I don’t head straight for the galley. Instead, I sit on the steps for several long moments.

Only a few hours until my feet are back on solid ground.

Once dawn rises, I need to be ready to put this ship and its strange crew behind me. I’m going to get away from the damned sea, the creaking, swaying ship, and the drain that comes with putting up with both for so long. I can’t pretend to be a Solar for the rest of my life—it’ll drive me insane .

These pirates are just a means to an end.

Avenging Glenna and Felicity is my only way home. The only way I can regain my coven’s trust.

I slowly make my way to the galley, ignoring the tiny tug in my chest that wants me to go back on deck.

Before I leave, I owe Valorean some revenge.

That thought alone brightens my steps.