Page 2 of Wicked Sea and Sky

“It wasn’t amorous. It was transactional. Coins for coordinates. That was all. It’s not my fault the witch fancies herself a painter. Besides, that name thing only happened once. The memory still haunts me.”

Gavin mumbled the last part under his breath.

“It should haunt you! I’d run you through with a rusty dagger dipped in snake venom if you said another woman’s name while you were in bed with me.”

Gavin tensed, his entire body going rigid beneath my hand. A flush warmed my neck at the visualI’dpainted. My imagination filled in the rest: a rustle of sheets, his breath against my skin, the low rasp of his voice. All far more mesmerizing than any brushstroke.

Overhead, the bats rustled as if sensing the static sparking between us. Gavin’s silence made me squirm, and I wished I could take my words back. Not the rusty dagger part, I’d done worse for less, but the insinuation that a whispered word from him in the dark could make me that vulnerable.

“Just read the map, Mare,” Gavin said, the gravel in his voice sucking all the air from the cavern.

Steadying my hand, I tried to follow the path we’d alreadytraveled, not the one leading my mind toward temptation. This time, I was careful to stay above the exposed expanse of his skin until I found the location marker. Heaving a sigh, I pressed my finger into the symbol, adding another smudge to the map.

“See! I knew we were supposed to take a left at the Pillar of Peril. We should have reached the Rope Bridge of Ruin by now.”

Gavin kicked his boot into the wall, releasing a spray of tiny stones. “Who named these landmarks? Just once, I want to be on a treasure hunt with happier guideposts.”

I lowered his shirt and rubbed my fingers through the folds of my tunic to remove any lingering paint. “Like a Maze of Merriment leading to a Tomb of Tranquility?”

“Exactly. If I slip off the rope bridge, I'd rather land in a soothing hot spring and not a pit filled with sharpened spikes. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

My lips twitched. “If you got your wish, we’d never find any treasure. You’d be too busy luxuriating in a pool of bath water.”

Gavin winked as his playful grin slipped back into place. Like it always did. He was a thief through and through—gold, hearts, whatever he could get his hands on—and his roguish demeanor was as reliable as the tides.

“What can I say? I’m a man of simple pleasures. And when steaming pools of crystal clear water are involved, you’re always welcome to join me.”

“I think I prefer the spikes.”

I brushed past him with a withering glare meant to deflate his ego. But as I lifted the enchanted moonstone to light the way, the rich sound of his laughter echoed in my ears.

Gavin's teasing was getting harder to resist. And worse, sometimes, I didn't want to. But I'd fallen for charm before.

The last man I'd let get too close had stolen my relic in the middle of the night, and had the nerve to swipe my food rations too. And the one before that? Total con. Used me for my map and my bedroll, then vanished the second he found the ruin.

So no more treasure hunters for me.

Any body built like a temple, I'd admire from afar. And my hunting motto? Keep my relics close and my heart closed off. But that didn't mean I wasn't tempted. Especially with a wisecracking adventurer attached to my hip who took my temple metaphor as a personal challenge—and who made me miss things I'd sworn off wanting.

We retraced our steps through the narrow tunnel until we reached a rocky pillar engraved with an ominous inscription:Peril to all who pass.

“I guess we go left,” I said, scanning the column for any other markings, maybe a clue to the aforementioned peril.

The tan stone felt gritty beneath my hand, and tiny flecks of quartz sparkled faintly embedded in the rock. I tilted the light, watching the shadows play over the weathered grooves. There were no other engravings. And if there was a warning, it wasn’t written in stone. Which was too bad. We could use all the help we could get.

Our crew had already lost too much time on this hunt, and we weren’t the only ones searching for the fabled treasure. Every distant creak or whisper of sound had me looking over my shoulder, convinced marauders were on our heels.

They were the vultures of the trade; scavengers who picked the treasure troves clean while feasting on death and destruction.So far, we’d evaded their pursuit, losing a band of them inside the vast cave network, but another delay or a simple mistake would put us right in their path.

And Ineededthis prize.

This wasn’t just any treasure. It was Incantus, a golden chest containing a vial rumored to be the key to immortality, and our benefactor was paying a fortune for us to find it. The treasure was considered a myth, yet here we were, after traveling through foreign kingdoms and treacherous landscapes for nearly a year.

I pressed a hand to the top of my neck, massaging the ache that had spread deep into my shoulders.

A whole year on the road. Another year, I haven’t kept my promise.My father’s last words echoed in my mind:Our home is our legacy. Promise me you’ll get it back.

But promises didn’t pay debts. Gold did.