“You don’t have to take them if you don’t—”
“I will.”
Amarande attempted to read him like a book, though they bothknew it was a waste of her time. “Are you sure? I can send soldiers to deliver it if you’re now uncomfortable.”
Ferdinand shifted his weight. “No, I’ll take it. But if I’m to deceive that ghost of a king, I request a small guard come with me—not so many he’ll be suspicious of an attack, but not so few that if Renard finds reason to lash out, I don’t have backup.”
“Consider it done.”
Amarande set a hand—small but mighty—upon his arm and squeezed. Ferdinand looked away as the gesture reminded him far too much of the woman who raised him. “Brother, this is no different than when you deceived Geneva by letting her believe you were marching us into the Itspi in a plan she approved.”
Relief swept across her face at his single nod of understanding. Then, Ferdinand squeezed her arm back. “I will see you in Pyrenee, my queen.”
CHAPTER 39
DAYand night crashed together in Ula and Urtzi’s hiding spot. Their only true indication of time was the subtle shift of light from pitch dark to steely gray when the sun hit the sweltering black covering of the rowboat as it swayed with the cutting wake of the Warlord’s pirate ship.
Ula jutted awake, sure it was day, blinking into the colorless confines of the world she and Urtzi had called theirs for the last day or two or three. Urtzi was still heavily asleep beside her, his massive frame balled up into a tangle of muscle and smooth brown skin. One long arm wrapped across her waist and the soft crown of his curls pressed against the bare skin of her neck.
She lay there for several minutes, listening for hints as to where they were, what Geneva was up to, if it was safe to take a little peek between the cover and the rowboat’s hull. It was silent, the birdcalls signaling early morning. In all likelihood, she could shift to her elbows and crawl to the starboard edge to look out away from the ship and toward where land should be.
But the truth was, Ula actually liked being snuggled up under Urtzi’s biceps.
Solid, warm, safe. The heft of his hold was nearly as satisfying as her beloved sword. And though Urtzi had long been a lout about women, she’d nearly kissed him right there after the trouble he gave the old lock man on the cliff.
Ula wiggled her body around to face him. Urtzi always slept like the dead. His breathing slow, his whole body a weight that would sink straight into the earth if given the chance. And even then, he might not wake up until he popped out topside a world away.
The shadowed light gave a deep relief to his smooth features. His messy curls spilling over his forehead and toward his eyes, the curve of his full mouth softly parted, a brilliant hint of teeth white against his dark skin.
The big oaf was nearly beautiful like this, the brutish pieces of him at peace. Dreaming of stars knew what—a five-course feast, the lemon cake at the Itspi, whichwasas good as Amarande and Luca had described, or perhaps, a tiny part of her hoped, maybe he dreamed about her.
Before Ula could stop herself, her forefinger was sweeping away a corkscrew lock of hair springing from his temple. When he didn’t stir, she trailed it down the warm skin along his strong jaw, all the way to his mouth. Her fingertip brushed his bottom lip.
A surprise—it was softer than she imagined.
Another—his eyes sprang open.
Ula jerked away, knocking the back of her head into the boat’s side with a muted thud as it collided with the hull of the larger ship. That soft mouth of his slipped into a smile as a laugh rumbled out. It was only then that Ula realized Urtzi and his damned lightning-quick reflexes had snatched her wrist and was holding fast, her index finger still poking up, guilty.
“Stars, Urtzi, you never wake without a cannon blast,” Ula whispered, aware that her cheeks were growing hot.
He brought her guilty finger between them, his dark eyes never leaving her face. “Maybe that was a cannon blast to me.”
Then, slowly but surely, Urtzi bent the top of her hand toward his lips and kissed it.
Ula’s breath caught, watching him, every muscle in her body completely tense against the boat hull, her entire being trained on the point where his skin touched hers. When her lungs rattled, searching for breath, she finally forced herself to draw in air, his lips still warm against her skin. Ula blinked. “Urtzi, I’m going to kiss you now.”
Their bodies crashed together, bent knees knocking, the wood beneath them sighing, as the whole rowboat swayed slightly on its chain tethers.
His lips were even more wonderful than she’d imagined, just as comforting as his presence and strength, yet softer than any part of him. Except maybe his hair. Her fingers splayed into the silky curls as her palms cupped the side of his face.
After a measure of time Ula couldn’t track, Urtzi pulled away just so that he might say something. “I’ve been wanting to do that for five years at least. Maybe all seven I’ve known you, if I’m really being honest.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted the choice to be yours. It’s the polite thing to do with a girl you fancy, and I knew if I misread your intentions, I’d lose a hand besides.”
Ula grinned. “You’re smarter than people give you credit for, you know that?”
