Page 2 of Virelai’s Hoard (The Dagger & Tide Trilogy #1)

Thorian relaxed as he took the parchment from her and unfolded it, inspecting it at length.

This was it. The deal was so close to closing, Riley’s fingers tingled in anticipation of a heavy bag of coins.

A hot meal, an actual mattress to sleep on, and a soft scarf for Patch to nest in.

Her boots could use an upgrade as well. A sturdy pair like Thorian’s, custom made just for her.

“And where did you find this...?” Thorian asked. The last word hung expectantly as he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Ryan.” Riley thrust her hand forward enthusiastically, as any hustler would be at a client wanting to learn his name, but Thorian made no move to clasp it.

She let it fall with an embarrassed little grin.

“It was gathering dust amongst my master’s scrolls.

He sailed past the Quiet Sea once, in his youth, and collected many trinkets.

Didn’t think he’d miss this one.” She cast a glance around at that, as if worried said master might jump out of nowhere and ruin everything at the last moment.

The man pursed his lips–amused or annoyed? She couldn’t tell–and peered at the map some more. “And what’s this legend you were talking about, exactly?” The eyes he set on her now were as sharp as at the beginning.

Oh.

He knew. How?

A deeply ingrained self-preservation instinct made Riley stumble back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The map swayed to the ground as Thorian lunged at her.

Riley ducked under his arm and took off, right boot slipping on the now useless piece of paper. She pushed her hands against the ground, gathering momentum instead of falling, and scampered out of Thorian’s way. Her clothes fluttered as the man tried to grab at them, but she was faster.

He followed her.

She weaved through carts and startled merchants, lungs burning, boots skidding on the slick docks.

But as fast as she was, she’d underestimated him.

His strides were twice as long as hers, and instead of wasting time ducking and slipping between objects and living things, he barreled straight through the obstacles, much to the anger of the latter. Several curses flew at their backs.

Riley jumped over a barrel, risking a look behind her and sparing a wink and a grin for the furious man chasing her. It startled him into slamming his shoulder against the corner of a dilapidated bait shop, and she let her laughter roll off her tongue at his howl of pain.

Veering right towards the docked ships, Riley dashed across the plank leading to a small fishing boat and leaped onto the boat’s roof.

One foot broke through the rotting wood with the impact, but the other held, and she turned to Thorian again as she pulled it out.

He was standing now on the other side of the plank, his eyes scanning for a safer route to her.

“Let’s see you barreling through these, big man,” she shouted at him.

Her skin buzzing, Riley rode the high of the chase and braved increasingly daring jumps.

From one small fishing boat to another, to medium merchant ships, up the stacked crates and barrels until she made it to an old freighter.

Like most of these docked ships, it stood forgotten and creaking with age.

There, in a maze of ropes, barrels and shadows, she hid.

It didn’t take long for Thorian’s boots to stomp on deck, but he’d lost sight of her, and now he stopped. His frustrated growl echoed around the freighter, and Riley pressed a hand against her mouth, muffling her breathing as her chest heaved.

She stayed hidden through the man’s shoving crates aside and spilling curses, and she kept waiting as his heavy footsteps faded into the distance.

Once her hands stopped shaking, Riley puffed out a relieved laugh and slipped away.

“That was a bit too close, Patch. You should’ve warned me.”

An indignant squeak answered her.

***

Thorian’s bronze got Riley a tankard of watered down ale and a steaming hot bowl of fish chowder, more odor than taste.

She shoveled it down mindlessly as she scoured The Salty Wench ’s packed clientele.

The brother suns were now joined up high in the sky, and their wrathful heat battered down on Saltmere’s streets.

This was where the town’s least desirables hid.

Not much light made it past the stained windows, which was half the appeal of this place.

Judging by the patched up clothes, toes sticking out of rat-eaten boots and dirt-streaked faces, no one here had two coins to rub together, but the perusing was one of Riley’s deeply ingrained habits, just as natural as breathing.

And it distracted her from what she was putting in her stomach. Not that she hadn’t had worse before.

“It’s your loss!” Someone’s shout cut through both her thoughts and the bustle of subdued conversation. “The captain’s a real stand-up person!”

That earned a sharp snort of disbelief from another voice. “Or a real fool, like the rest of you.”

Riley did the same as everyone else in the room. She adjusted her seat for a better view. The commotion came from a table near the center–a blonde woman, barely able to sit still, and a dark-haired man with a face like he’d been permanently disappointed since birth.

“Ouch! Nyxen! What was that for?!” the woman asked, her voice pitched high as she rubbed her arm.

Nyxen sighed in defeat, head hung low as he massaged his temples. “Keep your voice down, will you?” he muttered. “He said to be at least a little discerning with who we hire.”

“Why would he think we weren’t discerning?”

With the two of them bickering, they failed to notice someone approaching their table until it was too late.

An old man, wearing a stained coat two sizes too big for him and so unsteady on his feet he tightly gripped backrests and table edges to keep himself upright on the journey, blind to the glares of those occupying them.

“You two hiring?” he asked. The empty chair at their table screeched as he pulled it to sit down.

“Here we go.” Nyxen’s pained look was completely ignored both by the woman at his side and the old man.

“Yes! We are!”

“ Kit .”

Seemingly too excited at the prospect of a new hire, Kit knocked her chair back as she slammed her hands on the table and leaned closer to the already enraptured old man. Her messy, sun-bleached hair framed her grin. “How would you like to embark on the adventure of a life-time?” she asked him.

“It’s not-”

“Across dangerous waters and sea monsters and uncharted seas-”

“That’s not at all-”

“To the grandest treasure you could dream of?”

“ Kittredge , enough. We’re not here to sell fairy tales,” Nyxen scolded her, gently pushing her back into her seat.

He reluctantly addressed the man. “There might or might not be treasure at the end of our next travels, but the captain offers fair pay, a place to sleep and two hot meals a day. The work is hard, dangerous, and not to be taken lightly, but sailors who don’t act stupid and do what they’re told usually make it back on land with trinkets to sell and stories to tell. That’s it. No more and no less.”

Kit deflated at his side, sinking low on the chair as she crossed her arms. “Of course people walk out when you put it like that .”

Nyxen opened his mouth to say something else when the old man replied in a small voice, “I’d love that.”

“ Really? ” they both asked, incredulous.

They weren’t the only ones.

“You missed the part where your ship will sink as soon as you try sailing beyond the Quiet Sea,” one patron nearby said, to the dark chuckles of the mates sitting at his table. “I’ll give you a fortnight past that point. If that.”

More than half the tavern must’ve been listening in, because that got more than a few derisive snorts.

At her table, Kittredge flushed, but she lifted her chin. “None of you would be laughing if you knew who we’re sailing with.”

Riley tilted her head at that. Up to this point, she’d treated this as free entertainment, but now she was getting curious. It was a dangerous thing for her to be curious, but she couldn’t help it now.

“Kit. Don’t ,” Nyxen warned.

“And who is it you’re sailing with, pray tell?” the same patron asked, mocking.

“Don’t say it,” Nyxen groaned, but it was too late.

Kit’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. “The Moonshadow .”

The reaction was immediate. Laughter cut short, chairs scraped back, and a woman went as far as to spit on the floor. The old sailor, who had shrunk in his seat at the derisive patrons, suddenly straightened up, while Nyxen pinched the bridge of his nose and sank low in his own seat.

“Right, and I’m a fucking prince,” a scraggly teen dressed in rags said, barking a laugh.

But someone else lowered her tankard, brows furrowed. “She’s still sailing?”

Nyxen exhaled through his nose like he was deeply, profoundly tired. “Obviously.”

No one had anything to say to that, at least not to the two pirates’ faces. Riley heard some mutters as conversations resumed at the surrounding tables. “Poor bastards,” from one. “She always comes back,” from another. And yet another, “It must be some kind of curse.”

The old man leaned forward, drawing Kit’s and Nyxen’s gazes back to him.

“One last voyage, something to breathe some life into these old bones. Better than wasting away in here, overlooked and forgotten by the world,” he croaked, shooting a longing stare at the warped wooden mermaid hung above the bar, missing half her face and one breast. Then, with more confidence, “Me and the sea are old friends, we are. I can still be of some use. When do I start?”

Old friends? Riley’s eyebrows quirked. No one called the sea a friend in these parts. Or anywhere at all.

Before Nyxen could say anything, Kittredge burst out with, “Tomorrow, first light, at the docks! Ship’s the one with the silver sails. You can’t miss it!”

Riley returned her attention to the last of the slop in her bowl, thinking of the half-blooded giant at the docks, with his gold rings and a coin purse so fat it bulged beneath his coat.

Of Kittredge, and the defying glint in her eyes in response to a tavern full of people telling her she was a fool.

Of the Moonshadow , a name she’d heard before, a ship famed for always making it back when the others always sank.

A slow realization crept up on her the more she thought.

Her instinct was as likely to get her in trouble as it was to save her skin, and this time it told her an opportunity like this one wouldn’t come knocking twice.

A long-term con. Food in her belly, a bunk to sleep in, and, at the end of it, more coin than she’d know what to do with.

A way out of this rotting town. And all she had to do was play a few clueless pirates, survive one trip.

A gamble. A tricky one, even for her, but her skin buzzed with anticipation at the prospect.

“You got sharp eyes and sharper ears, lass. Careful not to cut someone with them.”

Riley's eyes snapped to the old man’s, who gripped her shoulder with more force than she’d have given him credit for.

Unease curled in her stomach at the familiar tone he took with her, but a moment later he chuckled faintly, adjusted the spyglass on his neck and walked away, soon disappearing into the crowd.