Up until three weeks ago, Sebastian’s weapon had been his magic—a literal part of him. And now Wesley couldn’t even matchRory’slevel of tact; Sebastian had given up that magic to save Wesley’s life, apparently so Wesley could be here to throw it right back in his face.
Sure enough, a flash of hurt crossed Sebastian’s face, unmistakable even if he buried it so fast Wesley could have imagined it. “I’m only going to talk to them, Wesley,” Sebastian said lightly. “I think even I can handle that, yes?”
He didn’t wait for Wesley to respond before stepping out in front again. Probably for the best, because what was Wesley supposed to say to that?Perhaps you can handle that, but apparently your lover can’t?Because he’s a giant fucking hypocrite who mocked Arthur fornot seeing that Brodigan can take care of himself only to do exactly the same to you?
Wesley swallowed a sigh and followed.
* * *
It’s fine. Wesley is still getting used to you not having magic and he also needs time to adjust, Sebastian told himself.He doesn’t actually think you’re incapable of talking to people.
Hopefully.
One of the men had leapt out of the boat onto the dock and was tying the skiff up to the pier. And Wesley was right; there was the unmistakable outline of a firearm beneath the overcoat.
Sebastian kept his eyes on the men. “Nice weather we’re having,” he called.
The day was gray and cold, the clouds thick with the rain that fell on Sebastian’s cap and shoulders. The man on the dock straightened up. “Blue skies all around,” he replied, completing the code phrase.
“Marvelous,” Wesley said flatly. “Can we get a fucking move on, then?”
He was, of course, dressed with his usual disdain for current trends and preference for clothes two to three decades out of style, and had an unmistakable accent. The two bootleggers exchanged a look.
“Miss Robbins didn’t tell us we were expecting a Spaniard and the crown prince,” one of them said.
“You getting paid to make wisecracks or you got something to sell?” Rory said, with an edge. He was the youngest and shortest of everyone on the dock, but Sebastian caught a new flash of gold on his left hand. He’d put on the ring relic, arming himself with the power of the wind.
The bootleggers exchanged another look. But then the man in the boat pushed the tarp aside and reached under the covered bow.
A moment later, he was straightened, holding a medium-sized, round glass bottle with a narrow spout. “The name’s Lenny. That’s Tommy on the dock. And this here is the finest rum Nova Scotia has to offer,” he said, holding it out over the edge of the boat. “This one’s free, as a show of goodwill. Go on and have a sample.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Wesley said, reaching out for the bottle that Lenny was holding out. “After Mr. Brodigan has a first look, of course.”
“You’re having the kid test the rum?” said Tommy, like that was funny. “I thought Miss Robbins was a professional. Why’d she send you clowns?”
“Our young gentleman friend here is a prodigy,” Wesley said, his tone icy, as he handed the rum to Rory. “And I would suggest the two of you more carefully consider your choice of words.”
Rory had closed his eyes, turning the bottle around in his hands. Sebastian bent to put his head close to Rory’s and caught faint muttering.“Bought from a bartender, bottled in a factory.”
Rory abruptly opened his eyes, glancing up at Sebastian. “This one’s the real McCoy, but they bought it by itself, in a bar,” he said under his breath. “I need to check the ones they’re trying to sell. Fine can drink this if he wants, though.”
Sebastian took the bottle and straightened up. “We need to see the rest of the product.”
Lenny gestured to the boat with a showman’s air. “Climb aboard.”
Sebastian heard Rory swallow, the deep brown eyesbehind his glasses going to the choppy river. The Hudson was probably forty feet deep at this point, their pier far enough into the river to accommodate the old factory’s industrial ships.He can’t swim, Sebastian remembered, from stories Rory and Arthur had told.And he’s had some bad luck on boats.
Sebastian handed the rum to Wesley and stepped forward. “We’ll both go.”
Wesley opened his mouth. Sebastian shot him a look, and Wesley put the bottle to his lips instead of speaking—grudgingly, Sebastian was pretty sure.
Sebastian stepped into the boat first. It wasn’t a big boat, and it rocked under his weight, but the Hudson River would never have waves like the ocean Sebastian had grown up with. He found his balance, then angled himself to put his shoulder where Rory could easily reach it if he needed to steady himself.
Rory’s lips tightened but he didn’t protest, and his spine was very straight as he stepped into the boat. It rocked again, and Rory’s hand shot out to grip Sebastian’s shoulder.
“You afraid of a little water, kid?” Tommy said from the dock, with an obvious jeer.
“I’m sorry, did you have something to say outside of our business?” Wesley took a step toward the man. “Perhaps you’d care to say it to me?”
