Page 37

Marin

I touched my lips with my fingers. The first rays of the sun spilled over the terrace, glazing the tiles in gold. I hadn’t slept, just stared, unseeing, at the stars until they faded in the brightening sky.

I didn’t know how to react after our fight in the orchard. Because it hadn’t ended in anger, and that was all I’d had inside me for three years. Now there was something else. It was delicious and wicked and so undeniably dangerous because now that it was there, I wanted more.

And Gavin’s words haunted me. Not just what he said, but the guilt buried there. I hadn’t known he’d carried my words from the ship. That they’d stayed with him, clawing at his conscience. He was a man trying to make amends for a mistake he couldn’t take back and had created a prison of his own.

Turning my head to the side, I glanced at the gear he’d left behind and the broken rail he must have kicked loose.

Gavin had called it luck. But it was really a foiled plan ten years in the making.

The iron, rusting through time from salt and the wind, felt like the house was saying, See? You can’t escape him even when you try.

Rubbing my hand over my face at the grim irony, I pushed to my feet.

My stomach rumbled with hunger, and my clothes itched my skin.

I needed food and a fresh tunic, in that order, and preferably before I came face-to-face with the man who’d turned me inside out and had ruined sleep. Possibly for the foreseeable future.

Ugh… my partner.

I grabbed a change of clothes and some food from my pack, then padded toward the house. But I stopped abruptly when I saw the gigantic vine in the distance.

Whoa.

In the light of day, the thing was even more intimidating. A stark reminder that we’d be climbing into the sky with nothing but ropes and hooks, and the precarious ledges formed by the branches.

For two days!

With the man who’d pressed me up against it and told me in no uncertain terms just how much I’d want him.

The treasure gods were laughing at me.

I was in so much trouble.

But I’d survive. Want and Gavin was nothing new. I’d spent years living with it. That kiss was the culmination of too much built-up tension. A powder keg with a fuse lit the day we met based on the games we played.

Pick my pocket. If I die. Steal the seeds.

All games.

I could ignore it. And I would. If playing these games helped Gavin alleviate some of his guilt, he wasn’t going to quit now.

Besides, the sneaky thief still had my only pair of shackles. And he wasn’t going to give them back just because I asked nicely.

Slipping into the house, I made my way to the kitchen to top off my flask. I bit into a hunk of aged cheese, leaning against the counter, and wondered if Gavin was still standing guard by the vine.

Was I supposed to bring him his gear? Breakfast on a silver platter? Fat chance. In fact, it was still early, and we had a long, arduous climb ahead of us. I eyed the sink pump Gavin had replaced and wondered what the odds were he’d repaired the one in the bathroom.

Only one way to find out.

I stuffed the last of the cheese into my mouth and headed for the main staircase, taking the steps two at a time. The master bathroom was at the end of the hall and had been outfitted with the latest luxuries thanks to my father.

He’d installed the hot water pump system, heated by a magic rune that had cost a fortune, for my mother before she’d died. It had been near the end when her sickness had settled in her lungs. She used to say the steam helped her breathe easier, and she'd sit for hours in the warmth.

But by now, the rune would have needed to be replaced, along with the copper fittings. I wasn’t expecting much. However, Gavin had always been a man of simple pleasures, and hot water ranked high on that list.

The bathing tub was deep and made of brass, sitting in front of a large window overlooking the sea. I ran my hand over the polished surface, delight curling up my spine. Gavin had replaced the pump handles here too, and I moaned with pleasure as hot water spilled from the faucet into the basin.

It filled quickly, and I tossed my itchy tunic and leggings to the floor and climbed inside. I sank beneath the surface, letting the hot water close over my head. The water had been frigid inside the prison. A bone-deep chill I thought would never go away .

This felt like paradise.

When I surfaced for a breath, I leaned against the back of the basin. Steam rose from the water, coiling in the chilly morning air as I blinked the droplets from my eyes.

And then, my mind just… stalled.

A faint sheen of scales shimmered along my legs. I flexed my toes, half-expecting them to transform into a translucent fin. But nothing happened.

Not yet.

My fingers tightened around the long blue strands of my hair.

I couldn’t escape who I was or what was coming.

The sea queen’s curse and Tivara's dark magic still owned me, and time was slipping away.

But now I had a purpose. A chance to make things right.

My blood had given Tivara her power, and my blood would take it away.

Until then, at least I wasn’t cold or hungry. In pain.

I was home.

Pushing my dark thoughts aside, I noticed a fresh bar of soap sitting on a small ledge near the tub. It looked unused, with a stamp of a leaf pressed into the top. I brought it to my nose.

Lavender. My favorite.

I used to carry a bar of lavender soap on my hunts. It was one of the few pleasures I allowed myself.

He would have known that.

The knot tightened in my throat as I rubbed the bar over my skin. This wasn’t just a simple pleasure, it was treasure.

I washed my hair and stayed in the tub until it cooled. Far longer than I should, and I was wasting daylight, but wild vines couldn’t—and didn’t—drag me from that bath.

Refreshed and feeling more like myself than I had in years, I changed into clean clothes and crept back downstairs. The house was still quiet. Which was odd. I was sure Gavin would have been up and ordering me around by now.

Before I returned to the kitchen to collect my leather flask, I retrieved the shackle key from the porch.

Considering Gavin’s anger from last night, I should hold on to it in case I found myself on the wrong end of the iron cuff.

Except the words he’d rasped in my ear made me think he wouldn’t shackle me to a rail… but to him.

Heat coasted through me. I never should have bought that blasted shackle. It was the bane of my existence. The culprit of my wicked thoughts.

Ignore the man. Ignore his games.

I let out a shivery breath and walked through the silent house back to the terrace.

A door rattled, and I slowed, looking over my shoulder.

“Gavin? Is that you?”

He didn’t answer.

But the house did.

I heard the sound again, and I followed it until I was back in front of the arched doors at the end of the hall. I pressed my hand against the wood panel. Was it loose in the frame? Maybe there was an open window on the other side, and a gust of wind had rattled the door.

Or maybe you stayed up all night reliving a certain kiss against a vine, and now you’re sleep-deprived and hallucinating.

Yeah. It was definitely that one.

“You can’t go in there.”

I jolted at the childlike voice, my face heating as if I’d spoken my private thoughts out loud.

Why was I always getting caught in front of this door like a thief with their hand in the treasure chest?

Facing the young girl, I found her peering up at me.

A braid was coiled on top of her head, and she wore a sea-gray linen dress.

Sand dusted her bare feet. She still wore her gloves.

“Oh, it’s you, again. Annie, right?”

Annie nodded and pointed a gloved finger toward the arched doors. “My uncle says no one is allowed in.”

My hands landed on my waist, an inquisitive line wrinkling my brow. Never tell a treasure hunter they can’t go somewhere.

“Why not? Is that where your uncle stores all his treasure? Should we steal some?”

Annie’s eyes widened at my conspiratorial tone. It took her all of two seconds to make a decision.

“I don’t have the key. But you can use these.” She pulled two pins from her hair and held them in her palm. It seemed even Mini-Gavin couldn’t say no to a challenge.

“Wow. Aren’t you clever? Let me guess, your uncle taught you to pick locks with hairpins.”

Annie lifted her shoulders with a coy smile. “It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“I promise not to tell.”

Taking the pins from her hand, I crouched in front of the doors, inserted the first one into the lock, and used the other for tension. Annie knelt at my side, watching intently as I worked the lock.

I nudged her with my elbow. “Your uncle thinks he’s a master thief, but did you know, I once picked a lock with a fish hook?” I wriggled my eyebrows. “And then I ate the fish for supper.”

Annie giggled, covering her mouth with her gloved fingers. “You’re funny. I bet you know a lot of stories. Uncle Gavin tells me stories all the time. ”

“He does? Like what?”

Annie rubbed her fingers over her chin. “There’s one about a magical lamp in an underground garden. That’s one of my favorites. Do you know it?”

My hands stilled as the lock clicked open. The memory surfaced again: me holding Gavin’s compass, charting the stars to our next destination.

“I do know it. I told your uncle that story. Let me ask, what would you wish for?”

Annie didn’t hesitate. “Endless wishes, of course.”

I laughed as I pushed open the double doors. “That’s what I said, too. But your uncle didn’t like my answer.”

Morning sunlight streamed in through the large, ornately framed windows. I stepped forward, then stopped. My breath stuttered as the laugh died in my throat. What had once been a near-empty ballroom was now a well-furnished library.