“Well, she’s more of a girlfriend, I suppose you might say, but we’ve a mutual intent to be married if the laws ever allow.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“She’s not fromaroundhere.” His big wave seemed to encompass the entire island. Or… the kingdom as a whole? “If you catch my meaning.”
“Is she a stormer?” Syla asked quietly in case the crew didn’t know or wouldn’t approve.
“Something like that.” Radmarik smiled, shifted the cane to the other side of his mouth, and gazed contemplatively at the dragons. “I figured this would be dangerous when I agreed to it, but I didn’t quite realize… I might not see her again.”
Syla didn’t know how to answer that even though she’d just been thinking something similar.
“We had good sex yesterday anyway before I sailed off. Real good. It always is.” Radmarik smiled again. “She’s quite athletic, as you might imagine.”
Syla’s mouth drooped open. This was not the direction she’d expected this conversation to go.
He eyed her again. “I suppose it’s not appropriate to discuss such things with princesses.”
“It’s… not a subject that comes up often within my earshot.”
“Because of your royalness? Or because you’re a healer, and the people around you are too ailed to have sex on their minds?”
“Some of both, I suppose. If I may ask, Captain, how much did Aunt Tibby’s engineer friend—Sherrik, right?—say I would pay you when we reach Castle Island?”
“Funny thing about that. Sherrik went from captain to captain, trying to hire a cargo ship or, in the end, any ship with a willing crew, able to take on a mission for the good of the kingdom. But he was rather elusive about what the mission was. Finally, he started telling people it was to help Princess Syla Moonmark save the kingdom from dragons.”
“And that moved you?”
“Nope. It didn’t move any of the captains he was trying to finagle with promise of payment later from the royal coffers.”
Syla raised her eyebrows. Since the captain was here,somethinghad finagled him.
“I thought one or two might have been willing to sign on as it’s always good to curry favor with the royals, however young and far removed from the throne they are.” Radmarik spat out a piece of cane that he’d chewed off.
“I’m not that young. I’ve been a healer for almost ten years.” She couldn’t deny that she’d always been removed from the day-to-day running of the kingdom though.
“Good to curry favor with healers too. You never know when—” He made a stabbing and twisting motion with his cane.
“Quite.” Syla eyed the macerated end, then returned to watching the dragons.
Maybe they hadn’t yet attacked because they were waiting for the ships to clear the cliffs and be easier targets. But she couldn’t imagine dragons having any trouble navigating among rock formations.
“My wife was the one who suggested I help you. Sugar cane?” Radmarik offered her the unappealing stick, the macerated end wet with his spittle.
“No, thank you.”
“My wife brings me some when she comes through. It’s gathered from the Lagobar Swamps where gargoyles are more prolific than squirrels. It’s a training ground for young stormer warriors, especially those who hope to earn the interest of a dragon and become a rider. The sugar cane is a prize, and you’ve usually got to battle a few fang bats, swamp vipers, and the gargoyles themselves to acquire them. Fortunately, my wife doesn’t mind a challenge.” Radmarik grinned. “She endures being mated to me, after all. I can’t imagine that’s easy, but maybe I’m sexier than you’d think at first glance. When I attempted to woo her, she tolerated it. It onlytook me fifty or sixty encounters to convince her of the appeal of my bunk.”
With her gaze on the dragons, Syla only half-listened to the story as she raised a hand to decline the offering. “It looks like a stick.”
“Yup, that’s right. Real fibrous but sweet. It’s one of the few treats that grow wild out there in the inhospitable climes of the world beyond the shields.”
She glanced at it, thinking of Vorik’s love for fruit and cobbler. Berries growing untended had seemed so amazing to him. Maybe the—what was it?—sugar cane was the best the wilds of the rest of the world could offer.
“So your wifeisa stormer.” Syla wondered why such a person had recommended helping her. If anything, the wife should have wanted her to fail.
“An outcast, yes. She used to be a rider and bonded to a dragon.” Radmarik lowered his voice. “She’s one of the leaders of the Freeborn Faction now.”
Syla rocked back. It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed that the faction existed, but after Vorik had tried so many times to claim to be allied with it, she’d stopped thinking it would come into play at any point in her journey—or her life.
