Page 21
Gavin
The dream always ended with Marin's screams. Rain lashed the deck. The wind howled, slamming me into the rail.
“Don’t let me go!”
I’d hear that cry forever, feel her hand slipping, skin sliding against mine. One moment, she was there. The next, she was gone.
I couldn’t stop it or explain the storm that had come out of nowhere. The way it rose as if conjured by magic, waiting to claim her, then vanished the instant she fell.
Nothing about that last day made sense.
All I knew was that sound, and that loss, followed me into the day until I drowned them in a bottle of spirits. Numb for a moment. Until the dream returned.
It took a long time, but I’d finally found the strength to stop numbing the pain. Time didn’t heal all wounds. And it hadn’t silenced her screams.
I'd joked once that she’d haunt me. Every day, she did. Three years and counting, but it may as well have been a lifetime.
And if I had it my way, she’d never stop.
A small fist pounded against the door.
My eyes snapped open, and I dragged in a breath of cold, salty air. Every morning was the same. My heart raced behind my ribs, slowing only as her screams faded beneath the rhythmic crash of the waves outside the window.
The fist pounded again.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, planted my bare feet onto the wooden floor, and dropped my head into my hands.
“Uncle Gavin, are you awake?”
“Go back to bed, Annie. It’s too early.” I groaned and rubbed my bleary eyes. “Better yet, go pound on your parents’ door. See how they like it.”
Annie heaved a dramatic sigh from behind the door. The kind only a kid could wield when she wanted to get her way.
“You know I’m not allowed to disturb them until breakfast. But that's not for another hour, and I’m hungry now.”
I blew out a breath and blindly reached for the crumpled pair of pants under the bed.
Asking her to wake her parents had been an empty request, and one I didn’t expect her to follow, even if the headache that pounded behind my temples hoped she would.
Her mother, Liana, was seven months pregnant, and Bowen guarded her sleep like a feral gargoyle.
Which usually left me to watch Annie, the kingdom's earliest riser and a notorious troublemaker. A trait I swore she hadn’t picked up from me. I was a courteous and well-mannered house guest.
Ask anyone.
Except for the people who lived here.
Definitely don’t ask Bowen.
Three years ago, after we returned from finding Incantus, neither of us was in any shape for polite company.
We’d lost Marin. Then, a week later, we lost the treasure.
It was stolen before we could deliver it to our benefactor.
A man who took out his fury on Bowen with knives, scarring his face and body.
Turning him into a recluse. The people of Ever, who once celebrated him, called him a beast.
Losing one of our own, followed by the vengeance against Bowen, shattered what was left of our crew. We parted ways. None of us could stomach another hunt.
Bowen hid in his manor, tormented by the fallout. And I needed a place to stay where no one would stop my self-destruction. So I stayed. I slept in a guest room at the back of his estate, and drank through the day, and scoured the alleys for trouble at night. It was the perfect plan.
Until Liana.
The beast was no match for her. And when they adopted Annie and her brother, William, the wall of grief Bowen had built around himself finally crumbled. A happy ending, one he deserved.
My wall held fast.
But thanks to a nine-year-old misfit who asked ten thousand questions a day, and insisted on calling me her uncle as if I were truly part of her family, there were some chinks in the rock.
I'd stopped drinking myself to death and even faked a smile once in a while. It wasn’t much of a life, but it was the only one I could manage.
Cramming my feet into my boots and pulling yesterday’s shirt over my head, I shuffled toward the door. When I yanked it open, Annie blinked up at me with a brilliant smile. She’d tied her brown hair into messy pigtails and wore a dress already streaked with sand.
The sun had barely finished rising, but Annie had clearly been busy. I narrowed my gaze at her hands.
“Where are your gloves?”
Annie scrunched her nose and dug into the pockets of the smock tied around her waist.
“In here. I was digging for shells and didn’t want to get sand in them.” She slipped them on and wriggled her fingers inside the thin fabric. “See? Still clean.”
“You didn’t take them off around any of the servants, did you?”
“Of course not. I know the rules. I don’t want to get kidnapped again.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “It’s very inconvenient.”
I scowled. Inconvenient was one way to put it. Terrifying her parents and her uncle was another. When Liana first met Annie at the orphanage, she'd sensed the latent magic growing inside her. It wasn’t until later that we all discovered what that magic was.
With a simple touch, Annie could show someone the path to whatever they desired most. She was a living map, but using that power also turned her into a beacon, leading those searching for her magic straight to her.
Hence the kidnapping. And the rescue, led by Bowen, who’d been out for blood, along with her equally unforgiving uncle.
Yes, we left bodies in our wake.
No, we were not sorry.
Since then, Annie was required to wear gloves until she learned to control her power.
In a way, she was lucky. She’d ended up with a family who understood the value of her magic, as well as the lengths people would go to acquire it.
And there was no better protection than an ex-treasure hunter and a thief.
I tugged her pigtail and spun her around to face the hallway. “Now that you’re properly attired, let’s go scrounge up some breakfast. I’m starving too.”
Annie giggled as she skipped ahead. “You’re always starving, Uncle Gavin.”
“Where’s your brother?” I asked, following her toward the kitchen.
“Will's still asleep. He snores so loud I can hear it through the wall. And when I bang on it, he gets louder.”
“I think he’s doing that on purpose,” I said, swinging open the kitchen door.
I winked at the cook, already busy preparing the morning meal.
She angled her head toward the pantry, used to the two of us sneaking snacks at strange hours.
I swiped a loaf of bread, a jar of honey, and a thick pad of butter resting in a porcelain dish.
Then we headed into the dining room, where I dumped our spoils onto the long wooden table.
The cook followed on my heels, placing a steaming cup of coffee under my nose.
“You’re a saint, Martha. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “And you look like a scoundrel. Get a haircut, young man.” Martha waved a hand in my direction, compelled, and more than willing, to deliver her frank opinion. “And shave that mug of yours.”
I cocked my head and ran my fingers over the thick stubble covering my jaw. “I think I look rugged with a beard. Brooding and very mysterious.”
Annie nodded, spreading butter on a slice of bread. “You look like a pirate.”
“See! A pirate.”
Martha scoffed. “A lazy, unkempt, dysfunctional pirate.”
I sipped deeply from my cup. “That’s my favorite kind. ”
“Good morning, everyone,” Bowen said, interrupting Martha’s tirade. He pulled out a chair for his wife and waited until she was settled before taking his own.
It was strange to see Bowen so content. He had always been the most unguarded and altruistic member of our crew, but knowing how far he’d fallen, it still felt surreal. If I were less jaded, I might believe there was hope for the rest of us.
“You’re up early, Lady McKenzie,” Martha said, walking to the sideboard to pour her a glass of juice.
Liana gave us all a tired smile and placed a hand over her belly. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“You poor, dear,” Martha said, returning with a cup for Liana and coffee for Bowen. She patted Liana softly on the shoulder, then glanced between Annie and me. “Breakfast is almost ready. You can have bread and honey with the heathens until then.”
She offered a cheeky smile, and then disappeared into the kitchen.
I flattened my lips, but Annie clapped her hands, thrilled by the attribute. The headache still pounded behind my temples, and I ripped off a hunk of bread, hoping food and some coffee might dull the pain.
The rest of breakfast followed, and easy conversation flowed around the table. I tuned it out, mentally making a list for the day. With the stretch of warm weather we were having, there was plenty to be done. This pirate wasn’t as lazy as he seemed, though I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s illusions.
Annie scooped the last of her eggs into her mouth, then dipped her hand into the pocket of her smock and pulled out a small, pale pink object. She rolled it between her fingers.
I looked away, flexing my jaw to relieve the sudden tightness. Leave it to me to live by the sea, where you couldn’t walk the shoreline without stumbling over sea glass. I should've left everything behind and moved to the desert. In fact, I was adding it to my list.
“That pink is a nice color,” Liana said. “Did you find the glass on the beach this morning?”
Annie dropped her gaze and her voice into an almost dramatic whisper. “Not exactly. But I can’t tell you where I got it. I’m keeping a secret.”
My attention snapped back to their conversation.
Liana gave Annie a stern look. “We don’t keep secrets in this house. Not after what happened with your magic.”
Annie pressed her lips into a pout. “I was only kidnapped one time!”
“Once was enough. Listen to your mother and tell us your secret,” Bowen said tightly, clenching a butter knife in his fist.
“Fine,” Annie grumbled. She leaned forward, pigtails swinging around her ears. “I forgot my book at Uncle Gavin’s house. So I went this morning to get it, and I—”
Table of Contents
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- Page 21 (Reading here)
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