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Fuck.
She hadn’t.
She hadn’t taken her birth control in months now. Could she get pregnant? Was that even possible between elves and humans?
Padding over to the small cabinet, she cleaned herself—cleaned the remains of him from her. Then, she dressed in a simple dark gray dress, combing through her tousled hair. She could still feel his fingers pulling at her roots?—
She needed to talk to him. If there was something she had to take, Anthea wanted to know.
There was a tray laden with breakfast on the table—freshly baked bread, a pot of honey, and a bowl of fruit, along with a glass of fresh juice. Anthea ate her breakfast while watching the sun-dappled sea through the window. The rhythmic motion of the ship and the gentle lapping of the waves against its hull had a calming effect on her, giving her time to think, to collect her thoughts, and to gather her courage.
She gave herself a few moments of solitude, a few extra moments before facing the world outside—before facing Endreth.
Then, she got up: Better to get this over with. Anthea placed her hand on the cabin door, its smooth, polished wood warm under her fingers. She let out a quiet sigh, steeling herself for what lay beyond. She couldn’t hide in the cabin forever, even though she wanted to—the thought of facing the crew made her feel slightly nauseous. The echo of her cries from last night reverberated in her head. Had they heard her? How could they not have? She had told Endreth she didn’t care, it had been in the heat of the moment—she cared, she cared about what they thought of her, she didn’t really want them to see her just as Endreth’s bed slave, but now?—
Anthea lifted her chin, reminding herself she was stronger than this—she was not a woman to shy away from adversity. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped outside.
The sunlight was brighter than it had been in the cabin, the sky an endless expanse of azure above her. Her heart pounded in her ears as she slowly started to make her way toward the railing. She felt the curious glances of the crew on her but she kept her eyes forward, determined to seem unfazed. The sea breeze caressed her face as she finally reached it, the taste of salt and freedom on her lips. Her gaze found the distant shoreline, the verdant greens, pine-like trees, and rugged white cliffs of Isluma slowly slipping away into the horizon. She tightened her grip on the railing, her knuckles turning white.
No matter what happened last night, no matter the flush of pleasure and intimacy she felt, she had to remember her goal. She couldn’t allow herself to get attached. The night before had been a mistake: a stupid drunken mistake. Nothing more. Anthea took a deep breath, allowing the salty sea air to fill her lungs—she had to remember her goal; she had to get home.
Aegonar stood out amongst the ship’s crew, his red hair like a beacon in the sea of blond and brown, his maroon coat billowing in the wind. The golden clasps opened to reveal a gray blouse beneath. He clapped the back of a burly, warrior-like elf with long brown hair before exchanging a small bag with him. Then he turned and made his way toward her.
She had no desire to engage with the Crimson court’s heir. Not today. She was about to make her exit when his voice stopped her.
“Anthea,” he called, his voice grave.
“Prince Aegonar.” Anthea didn’t bother to hide her irritation.
He crossed his arms on his chest, leaning against the railing next to her. “You cost me four gold timbers,” he said.
“What?”
“I made a bet with Kaelen over there,” he gestured back at the warrior elf, “that you would hide in your cabin the entire day. Guess you are braver than I thought.”
“How princely of you, Aegonar.”
He merely raised a brow. “I thought I told you to keep your focus on the Cattleya court.”
She didn’t dignify his comment with a response. “Where is Endreth, anyway?” she asked instead.
“Seeking your master’s company already?”
“It was a simple question. If you really have nothing better to do than torment me, then you must be incredibly bored,” she scowled at him, cheeks burning.
“We are on a ship, Anthea. Not much else to do.”
Annoyed, Anthea turned away. The ship was large enough so she should be able to find a quieter spot. As she took a step, the twinge in her lower body made her wince, the movement sharper than she had anticipated.
Aegonar’s eyes, keener than she’d like, didn’t miss her wince. “Sore, are you?” His voice held an edge of something—Anthea’s face turned a deeper shade of red. The heir grabbed her arm. “I mean it. Don’t encourage him further. Don’t play with him.”
“I’m not . . . What?” Anthea yanked her hand away. He let her, a warning in his eyes. She didn’t ask further. Instead, she said, “I don’t know what you are talking about,” turned, and strode away as gracefully as she could manage.
Anthea’s gaze was fixed on the Virens when Endreth found her on the bow of the ship. The sunlight brought out the ethereal luminescence of their bodies, making them look like creatures of pure gold.
“Anthea?”
She turned to him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice.
