Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(106)

I watched Kai’s face for signs of bitterness or jealousy, but there were none, so I allowed myself to relax.

“Can’t imagine why,” he quipped. His teasing was reassuring.

“So do you think you can get us to Tempesia in record time?” I asked.

“Of course.” His expression was so delightfully arrogant, I almost wanted to laugh.

Kai cleared his throat again. “Do you have a moment?”

Arcus’s arm slid away from me. “Excuse me, I’d better go make sure my crew hasn’t taken the best berths. Or been forced to sleep in the brig.” He strode off in the direction of the hatch, and I watched him go, glad that he’d tactfully left me alone with Kai without showing any animosity toward him.

Kai moved to lean on the railing beside me, a careful distance away, and tilted his head. “How are you, little bird?”

I was glad he used my nickname, another sign that he wasn’t upset with me. “Mostly I’m just tired. I feel worse for the queen. She seemed so… broken.”

“She seemed stronger when I visited her before we left. You didn’t want to come with me, if you recall.”

“I feel so guilty. As if I betrayed her.”

“For trying to save her? That is ridiculous. What happened after was not your fault.” He sighed. “I keep wondering, though, whether Prince Eiko is alive. Do you think his mind is in there somewhere?”

“I truly don’t know.” Eurus probably wasn’t like the Minax, who shared the space in your mind. A wind god would have far more power than his creation, and he seemed to have no scruples about snuffing out insignificant lives to suit his convenience. “We need to be prepared for the worst.”

“Except the worst keeps getting… worse.”

I chuckled. “We couldn’t have prepared for Eurus.”

As I said the name, a puff of wind came from the east, filling the sails to bursting before dying off.

“I’ll remember not to say that name again,” I whispered, rubbing the goose bumps on my arms.

“I’d appreciate that,” Kai replied softly.

I took a deep breath and looked down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the real reason I came to Sudesia. I should have trusted you.”

I lifted my head slowly, scared of what I might see on his face. Anger? Hurt? Contempt? That would be worst of all.

But what I saw in his eyes, golden in the lantern light and a little wide, was something warm and open. Sympathy. Understanding. Something harder to identify. As he caught me watching him, his eyelids fell to half mast, and his mouth quirked in that typical teasing smile that warmed me by degrees until I couldn’t help but return the look.

My spirits, I realized, had lifted somewhere above the mainmast. “Do you forgive me?”

“I suppose I must,” he said, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his pristine black doublet. “Normally I would hold a grudge for such an offense. But one might say, Princess Ruby, without exaggeration, that you are an exception to all rules.”

“Glad you recognize that. Finally.”

“Exceptions must stick together.” He reached out and squeezed my shoulder, his expression conveying support and affection, but his hand lingering a little too long. It seemed our whole complicated history was contained in that gesture.

His eyes went to the sailors on watch. “Well, it looks like everything is in hand. I’m going to my cabin to sleep like the dead.”

“Must be nice to have a cabin.”

“Would you prefer to sleep there?” he asked quickly.

I lifted a brow.

“Alone, if you’re so inclined.” Mischief danced in his eyes.

I snorted. “Thank you, but I think you’ve made enough sacrifices. Taking on this crew, for instance. You’ll need a quiet space to get away from all the arguing.”

“We’ll find you a cabin tomorrow. One of my officers can bunk with the crew. But for tonight—”

“I’ll sleep on the deck if that’s all that’s available.”

“There’s a hammock in steerage if you don’t mind bedding down among crates and barrels. You won’t be disturbed. I’m thinking you might like some time alone.”

Something sweet closed my throat. I was touched. “Very thoughtful, Kai. Thank you.”

He nodded and left, his gait adjusting to the roll of the waves without a flicker of difficulty. Like he was part of the ship.

I turned and rested my elbows on the railing, staring down to where the sea churned—nearly invisible in the dark. In a few minutes, I wouldn’t be able to see the water at all. But I’d know it was there because of the way it heaved us up and dropped us down, gentle now, but subject to the whims of the winds. In a matter of hours or even minutes, the swells could turn from calm to violent.

It was like the Minax. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. I sensed it more now that I had no one and nothing to distract me. Would it remain passive and allow me to direct it? Or would it take its cue from a vengeful wind god and dash me to pieces against the rocks of its hate? I had no choice but to try to weather it, to hold the wheel tight, to fight to stay on course.

It wasn’t only me who counted on my ability to remain in control. The entire world would suffer if I didn’t. When I thought of it that way, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.