Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(24)

“I have been gathering information, yes,” Destin said, without a trace of remorse. “I need to know who I’m partnering with.”

Partnering? Evan’s mouth went dust dry. “Could you . . . be more specific?”

“I have a business proposal for you, Pirate,” Destin said abruptly, as if signaling that the time for moonstruck yearning was over. “I’d like to set you up here in Tarvos. You have one ship now, and eventually you’ll have more. You hire a crew, security, all of that.”

“You’d like to . . . set . . . me . . . up?” That was an unfortunate use of language.

“Exactly,” Destin said, rushing ahead. “With my money, and your talent, you should have no trouble making a go of it.”

Clearly this soldier was not used to charming his way to a yes.

“This is all very generous,” Evan said warily, “but what’s in it for you?”

“I want you to look after my mother,” Destin said. “She’s very fond of you, and I believe it’s mutual. My share of the profits will go to her, for her support. I would ask that you stay at the cottage with her when you’re not at sea, and hire staff to make sure she gets the help and protection she needs. She’s a strong woman, but she’s no soldier, and she’ll need help for some of the heavy work.”

“Ah,” Evan said, hope ebbing. “And where will you be?”

Destin’s face closed like the steel door to a vault. “I have business elsewhere.”

“Where?”

Destin returned his gaze impassively.

“Are you coming back?”

“I hope so,” Destin said, making no promises. “If I don’t, the business will be all yours, with a split to Frances. So. What do you say? Can we be partners?”

It was an astonishingly generous offer. A suspiciously generous offer. And Evan was tired of being blindsided and trampled by this wetland soldier mage.

He shook his head. “It’s your turn,” he said.

“My turn?”

“I need to know who I’m partnering with,” he said, taking great pleasure in mimicking Destin’s phrase. “I don’t even know your real name, or where you came from, exactly, or the source of your money, or who might show up at my door hunting you and find me instead.”

Destin stared at him for a long moment. “My real name is Destin,” he said finally.

“That’s a start,” Evan said. “Go on.” He settled back, gesturing, as if anticipating a long story.

“What’s wrong with you?” Destin said, furiously. “You’re refusing the most generous—”

“That’s just it,” Evan said. “It’s too good to be true, just like Strangward taking me on as crew, and Celestine wanting to take me home and spoil me. I’m learning that whenever this happens, I should run the other way. If you can trust me to look after your mother, you can trust me with your story, too.”

Destin sat looking at him—fists clenched, frustration churning in his hazel eyes.

“A partnership implies an equal footing,” Evan said softly. “Take or leave.”





10


OLD STORIES AND NEW BEGINNINGS


Destin leaned his head back against the pilothouse, seething, fighting down the urge to throttle Evan Strangward. This was oddly mingled with the desire to kiss him until their lips bled.

You are your father’s son, he thought. There is no love without pain.

This was not in the plan he’d crafted so carefully. He’d been blinded by a pretty face. He’d underestimated the pirate, and that was all.

By now, the sun had plunged below the horizon, leaving a bloody wake on the Indio. The first stars had emerged overhead, glittering diamonds in the vault of the sky. At long last, the gulls had gone to roost, leaving it blessedly quiet, except for the lapping of the waves in the cove and the rattle of the rigging in the freshening breeze.

“Well,” Evan said, with a sigh, “it seems that we are done here. I’m sure there are some sails that need hemming, and bilges that need pumping.” He made as if to get to his feet.

“No,” Destin growled. “We’re not finished.”

Evan settled in again, wrapping his arms around his knees. The wind stirred his hair, and the dying sun glittered on the silver and blue amid the gold.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to know?” Destin said, chewing each word thoroughly to keep the wrong thing from spilling out.

“Who’s the general?” Like any good marksman, Evan had zeroed in on the critical target.

“General Marin Karn, Commander of the Army of Arden and counselor to the king,” Destin said. “My father.”

All traces of triumph faded from the pirate’s face. “Your father? Your own father is hunting you?”

Destin nodded. “He’s not the kind you can live with. Neither is he the kind you can leave. I was not the son he’d hoped for.” He held up a hand. “I don’t know if anyone would have suited him, but I was definitely the songbird in the eagle’s nest. Or, should I say, the hawk’s. He kept pounding on my mother—trying to get her to admit to cheating on him. He didn’t want to believe I was really his.” He paused for a beat. “That’s one thing we agreed on. I didn’t want to believe it, either.”