Page 123 of The Sun King's Noon

“There. There, sir. You have it all. The ship will carry you wherever you wish if you mind the trim.” He licked his lips. “There is a rowing boat aboard, sir. A small one. I should not need much—a flask of water, a loaf, no more. You would never see me again. I would never speak of this. You have my word, sir, on my dear children’s lives?—”

“Oh, you can leave now,” Flint said with a warm smile. “Of course you can. You’ve earned it, Master Marek. You truly have.” With an almost graceful flourish, he stepped behind the man and slashed the knife across his throat.

It was done in a blink. A startled, choking sound, and a waterfall of black-red spilling down the man’s front. Marek sagged, then collapsed onto the deck, eyes unblinking.

“Flint!” Kaelen unsheathed his sword with a roar.

“Put it away!” Richard seized Kaelen’s wrist. “Do you wish for a bloodbath in the middle of the sea? Keep it sheathed.”

Kaelen obeyed, face stricken and chest heaving. His glare did not leave Flint, who was squatting, calmly wiping his blade on the dead man’s shirt.

Richard snapped at the bandit. “Explain.”

Flint shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“That is hardly an explanation?—”

“All right, all right.” Flint straightened, tucking the knife away. “Master Marek here has no children. Though he has, in the past, smuggled children through the port—mage children, you understand. Brought into Vexmara from the surrounding isles as slaves to entertain or shape. He paid for this pretty ship, and his pretty wife, and pretty mansion, with that trade.” Flint nudged the body with his boot. “Maybe he didn’t dabble with it himself, but he’s as guilty. So give me some grace.”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. “You might have told us.”

“Didn’t fancy the argument.”

Richard grimaced. “Help him with the body, Kaelen.”

“But—”

“Help him with the body,” Richard repeated. “Throw it over. Recall that we are on a mission for our realm and must endure such discomfort.”

With a stiff nod, Kaelen took the dead merchant under the shoulders. Flint took the feet, and together, they carried the corpse to the rail.

After the splash, Kaelen stared down at the water for a long while. The wind blew through his hair, and his shoulders were rigid.

Richard folded his hood around his neck. “Kaelen?”

The knight startled and made his way back, but his face went a pasty mix of grey and green. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and pressed the heel of his hand against his lips.

“Kaelen?”

The knight bolted for the rail, and the sound of retching filled the air. Flint chuckled from near the stern. Richard winced and crossed the deck to Kaelen, rubbing slow circles between the shoulder blades as Kaelen heaved up his lunch.

When Kaelen finally straightened, swaying, Richard kept the hand in place.

“It is the swell,” Richard murmured. “The Frostheim crossing took me the same way on my first night. You shall grow accustomed to it.”

Kaelen groaned and slumped against the rails. “I pray it happens with haste.”

Flint approached them, raking his hair back into a ponytail. “So, is it full sail ahead?—”

“We must anchor her, Flint.”

Flint frowned. “We’ve a tide?—”

“Anchor her. We are three landborne Ardenians on a ship, trying to navigate foreign waters. Marek warned us about sandbars near the second headland. I do not propose to find them in the dark. We hold here, where the waters are shallow, until dawn.”

“When you put it that way, handsome.”

Flint headed to the anchor crank. The chain rattled, and theMaiden’s Promiseslowed before settling. As Flint sang another sea shanty, Kaelen hung his head over the rail and retched. Absently, Richard kneaded Kaelen’s back.