Sea Witch(55)

“Here, jump to me,” says Nik. “I’ll catch you.”

Annemette takes a deep breath. After several seconds, she leaps into his arms.

I stumble back out of the way just in time to give them more room. Nik’s excellent balance keeps them upright, and Mette lands as gently as possible on the little schooner’s stern, a grateful smile at her lips as she beams up at him, scooped against Nik’s chest. Exactly where she needs to be.

“Summer wine, Mette? It calms the nerves,” Iker says, sitting down on the bench next to me. Annemette shakes her head at his offer.

I meet Nik’s eyes. “Perhaps some water?” Nik nods for Iker to retrieve it from the chest he filled with chipped ice.

We’d made it to the mouth of the harbor with ease and were now pleasantly floating. Well, pleasant for everyone except Annemette, who can barely look over the rail.

Iker returns and slips the canteen to Nik, who uncaps it for Annemette.

She takes a greedy pull. “Better?” Nik asks, and she gives another unconvincing nod.

Iker grabs a large jug and fills a tin cup with the contents—from the smell of it, hvidt?l.

“Starting early, Iker?” A glint rises in Nik’s eye, and he takes a swish of Annemette’s water.

“Starting right on time. And who do you think you are, second-guessing the captain on his own boat?”

“Someone who is often in charge and remains sober for his duties.”

“This is a festival, and there has been entirely too little drinking for my taste. I am eighteen and a prince. I can enjoy myself on my own ship as I please.”

“Iker, may I have some water?” I ask, because they can’t continue this way. Not that I’m sure I can stop them, but I’ll settle for distracting them as a means to turn this around. It’s supposed to be a romantic jaunt.

Iker plops down on the bench and takes a long swig from his tin cup.

“If your sober prince wants to share, of course you may.”

I eye the flask—most likely Iker’s personal water jug and no more. It sits lightly in Nik’s hand, a third gone with two measly glugs.

“Not to second-guess the captain, but is that all you brought to drink?”

Iker shakes his head into the cup. “Like I said, there’s summer wine,” he says before raising the jug in his hand. “And hvidt?l too. I’m not an idiot—I know it’s hot.”

I roll my eyes. “What about to eat?”

Iker stands and flips open another chest of ice, plunging his free hand into the depths. “Ah, yes, cheese and fruit and not a single thing more. What is this? A garden party? There’s not even a herring.”

“Mette’s allergic,” Nik says. He was in charge of packing the food.

“Well, I’m not. And allergy, my arse. She’s just being particular to watch you fall all over yourself to accommodate her.”

Annemette winces and heat grows in Nik’s cheeks, a true argument brewing in his veins. While I’m pleased to see fire from Nik regarding Annemette, it does nobody any good if the boys toss each other overboard.

I place my hand on Iker’s forearm. The bickering is too much and almost as bad as the lack of water and food. If it goes on, this day will truly not go as planned. He turns to me and I give him a calming smile.

“We have the sun and blue sky and each other. We have enough.”

Iker draws me in to the flat of his chest—the scent there more than salt and limes, a sour note from the hvidt?l ruining the balance. Nik glances down.

“Evie and her quick mouth. Always right, even when she is very wrong,” Iker says.

“I am always right.” I smack him on the arm but let him hold me against his chest, his heartbeat slowing as the fight drains from him.

“Don’t trip on that pride, Evelyn. It’ll hurt even more when you take a tumble,” he jokes.

It takes several hours, but Annemette is eventually at ease enough to unplaster herself from Nik and, dare I say, enjoy our time at sea. She stays close to him, to be sure, but she becomes comfortable enough to share some berries and cheese with me, and conversation with us all.

Iker and I sit with our backs against the hull, facing Annemette and Nik at the mainmast. Nik has drifted off to sleep, having had a little too much wine, comfortable with Annemette at his shoulder. Iker has yet to slow on the hvidt?l, and it hasn’t made him sleepy as much as it’s made him more of a cat, enjoying a sunbeam with his claws out.

“Are you feeling better, Friherrinde Mette?” Iker asks.

Annemette responds with a regal nod.

“Good. Over your fears, then? A changed woman now that your prince is asleep?”

I elbow Iker hard. “Enough,” I say. “I don’t know why you’re being like this. So . . . impolite.”

“Forgive me, Evelyn. It isn’t polite, it’s true—I am a prince, and though I don’t prefer it, I follow social norms most of the time. But my family is another matter.” His eyes flash, ice blue and hot. “When it comes to them, I am never polite. It is worthless to be polite when something so important is on the line.”

Annemette swallows, and I’m fairly certain all three of us steal a glance at sleeping Nik.

I should speak up and stave off Iker, but I can’t. Nik is just as important to me as he is to Iker, and an ill-timed defense of Annemette would come off as wrongheaded. It also might put more strain on this day—enough to carry over to our whaling expedition. With a coward’s heart, I shut my eyes and let him attack.