The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)(66)

“Barely good?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Barely morning, I meant.”

“Ah, that’s a relief!” He propped himself up on one elbow among the silk pillows, and the blanket slipped dangerously low around his waist. I averted my eyes, then reverted them surreptitiously. I could hear the wicked grin in his voice. “It could get barer, if you like.”

I slung a pillow at him. He batted it aside, then wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a kiss that stopped time. I had seen countless worlds and boundless horizons, but nothing as wondrous as the space within the circle of his arms. It was only the ringing of the bells that brought me back to Ker-Ys.

Trying to catch my breath, I drank in the scent of his skin, clove and copper, as the rumble of the gates reverberated through the hull. He kissed my cheek, my jaw, my throat. “If the tide’s going out, it’s nearly noon,” I whispered as the ship rocked on the swells. “We should probably get back to the castle.”

He brushed my hair back with a feather-light touch, and I never wanted to move again. “We probably should,” he murmured in my ear, though I’d already forgotten what it was we should do. I kissed him again, deep and languid at first, but he slid one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my neck and pulled me close. A warm current flooded through me, and a feeling in my stomach like bubbles. I arched my back, pressing my body against his, like the sea reaching for the setting sun.

“Hello?”

Kash and I both blinked. The voice was familiar, and it came from outside the ship. For a long moment, neither he nor I responded, though I was certain the pounding of my heart was loud enough for anyone to hear. Then came the sound of footsteps on the gangplank, and Kashmir called out, “Just give us a minute, Dahut!”

“What do you think she wants?” I whispered.

“I have a guess,” was all he said. He stood and went to his closet, letting the coverlet fall away completely. I couldn’t help but stare. Kash had always been shameless, and I was no prude; last night had not been the first time I’d seen him—what did he call it? Dishabille. But the way he stood now—his back to me, one hip cocked, his left hand on the back of his neck . . . it made my heart thunder and my fingertips tingle, as though my blood had turned to seafoam.

But from above came the sound of small feet pacing, so I turned toward my trunk and dug my hands through my clothes, and even the roughest material felt like silk against my skin. As I dressed, I stole glances at Kashmir out of the corner of my eye—the way his thigh flexed as he stepped into his trousers. The taut muscles of his back as he pulled his shirt over his head. The tilt of his head as he pinned his cuffs. And on his belt, the lock he’d taken from the Brooklyn Bridge that day. As he buckled it on, he looked up through his lashes. “If I had time and music, I could do it better in reverse.”

My face went red, but he only grinned.

“Are you coming?” Dahut’s voice drifted down the hatch.

“Patience!” Kashmir called, but I remembered then what she’d wanted, and I dug the vial of mercury out from the bottom of my trunk. “What is that?” he said, holding the door.

“A cure-all from Qin’s tomb. It might help her memory.”

Abovedecks, the wintery air cooled my cheeks. Dahut was waiting there in her enormous skirts, her expression half impatient and half afraid. As we climbed through the hatch, she held up her diary. “You told me we were friends,” she said to Kashmir. “Was that true?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Good. I need to escape. Here I am.”

Kash sighed and gave me a look that was almost apologetic. “I told you she’d want to come with us.”

I considered it, tilting the bottle of mercury back and forth in my hands. At first blush, it seemed so wrong to take her from Crowhurst, to a place where he could not follow. After all, I’d had my own difficulties with my father, but I’d never actually cut him from my life. Then again, Slate and Crowhurst were not the same man. “Why?” I said at last. “Why do you want to go?”

“This place gives me nightmares,” she said darkly. “I don’t like it here.”

“You’re running away because you get bad dreams?” I gave her a dubious look, but Kash put his hand on my arm.

“What are your nightmares about, Dahut?”

“Drowning,” she said, and something squirmed like an eel in my belly. Was it only coincidence that she dreamed of the way the myth ended? “Will you help me or not?”

Kash looked at me, a plea in his eyes, but I was already nodding. Hope broke like dawn on Dahut’s face, and seeing it steeled something in me. “All right,” I said firmly. “Bring whatever you need to the dock. We’ll gather the crew and leave tonight.”

“Tonight? No.” Her smile fell away. “It has to be now, before my father wakes up.”

I stared at her, at a loss. “Even if I wanted to leave them behind, this ship can’t sail without a crew.”

“If he finds out I took his keys, he’ll stop me!”

A chill skittered up my spine as another piece of the legend fell into place. “You took his keys?”

“So he can’t follow me on the yacht.”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “We will get you somewhere safe, Dahut, I promise. Just . . . just give me an hour.”