“You shouldn't be able to call onmeat all!”
Niamh emphasized the wordme, clearly frustrated that Wyn was able to get a hold of her. Theo knew a descent into nonstop bickering when he saw it, and thought of Lyra, somewhere beneath the sea with Cliodhna.
It was a horrifying enough image that he was able to summon his remaining courage and intervene between Wyn and Niamh. Theo would never truly realize what a historical event this was. The last person to come between Wyn and Niamh sparked a conflict that required two treaties and a marriage alliance to squash.
“Please.” Theo put his hand on Wyn's shoulder, not stupid enough to step any closer to Niamh. “Can we focus on the matter at hand?”
Niamh cocked her head to the side, the fire in her eyes flaring as she studied Theo for the first time. The flames in her hairturned down to simmering sparks, her anger visibly appearing when she turned her attention away from Wyn.
“And who might you be?”
Theo opened his mouth to speak, but Wyn interrupted, throwing his arm across Theo’s chest and pushing him back a few steps to protect him from Niamh.
“I’m the one who called you. Don't lose sight of that,” Wyn growled the words in a warning, his tone harsher than before.
Niamh's expression lit up in delight and challenge. She tapped one long, elegant finger against her cheek.
“Well! I shouldn't be surprised you're trying to keep me from any fun. What is it that you need help with then, Wyn?” She looked over his shoulder towards Theo, now full of consolation. “Although you can bargain with me if you'd like any particular favors, pet.”
Wyn stomped, pushing Theo even farther away. “Over my dead body!”
Niamh rolled her eyes, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth.
“You've gotten boring, Wyn. How abysmal. What is the favor I owe you?”
Wyn squared his shoulders and gave Niamh an abbreviated version of everything that happened between Lyra and Cliodhna. There was no way to tell the story without giving Niamh some details about who Theo was and why they were out here in the first place, but Theo could tell Wyn was keeping those details as close to his chest as possible. When Wyn was finally done, Niamh's expression was frustratingly unreadable.
“You want me to go up against a goddess?” Niamh started walking in a slow circle around Wyn, who refused to move. It was impossible to watch Niamh without noticing how serpentine and graceful her movements were. Each step she took, her whole body seemed to undulate with it, not unlike the way Lyra's tailmoved in the water. Somehow, it didn't look ridiculous, but only further convinced Theo that Niamh was not someone he ever wanted to meet alone in a dark alley.
Although with the amount of firepower she was carrying, it wouldn't be a dark alley for very long.
“Subtlety doesn't suit you,” Wyn quipped in return, keeping his gaze dead ahead. His brow was furrowed, refusing to rise to Niamh's obvious attempts at baiting him. “You'd take on any person in the seven seas if they looked at you funny.”
Theo held his breath, but Niamh only cocked an eyebrow and didn't respond with any heightened sense of fury.
“Besides,” Wyn continued, “you owe me.”
Only then did he turn to look at Niamh. The tension between them intensified, and Theo could see the flames flickering in Niamh's eyes even stronger than before. He didn't think there was a single space on the boat safe enough for him or Wyn if she decided to set it ablaze.
Niamh paused. Her brow furrowed, gaze shifting up and down as though looking at Wyn for the first time. Theo was holding his breath. Somehow, this woman was their only option if they wanted to go save Lyra. Otherwise, they'd have to run back to Edinburgh first, and he couldn't imagine her in Cliodhna's clutches for that long.
“Aye,” Niamh's voice was quiet, almost gentle, but her expression was stone cold. “That I do.” She gave Wyn a curt bow. Theo had never seen someone bow sarcastically before, but Niamh managed to pull it off.
“In which direction do you want to point your blade then?” Niamh started walking back towards the smoldering basin.
Wyn's eyes were fixed on her now. “Cliodhna. The Irish?—”
“Goddess of the seas and of banshees.” Niamh paused but didn't turn around. If she was surprised or discouraged, she didn't show it. “Interesting, Wyn. Very interesting.”
Wyn's body language caved in on itself. His shoulders hunched over, and he grimaced ever so slightly. The bravado he'd previously been putting up in Niamh's presence vanished in an instant.
“It's not my intention to put you in his path.”
“I don't care what your intentions are!” Niamh roared, the anger coming out of her like a sudden eruption. Her braid lit up with flames, and smoke poured down her body, trickling towards where Wyn and Theo stood in a mixture of awe and fear. Theo was mainly afraid. Wyn was mainly in awe—and turned on, which was likely the most inappropriate response for the scenario at hand.
“You have that,” Niamh turned and pointed toward the basin, “and I gave you explicit instructions on how to use it. You call in the one favor I owe you, and this is it?”
Theo wanted to start apologizing on Wyn's behalf, or pleading with Niamh, anything to get her anger to dissipate. Wyn shook his head slowly, his eyes cast downward, every inch of his body practically oozing regret. Theo had never seen Wyn look anything less than confident. Now, he looked like a kicked dog.
