Page 155 of Tempest

Cat grumbled and returned to her stitches, which Garedo eventually corrected with a kind look and swift fingers.

* * *

THE RULES OF a different world.

Ana’s words ate up her thoughts, until Cat could no longer focus on even the smallest of tasks. They terrified her and made her bold in the same measure, a new horizon unfolding with every passing moment. She stalked the deck, glancing between the blazing sunset and the stairs below, weighing possibilities never in reach before.

To tell Ryman exactly what she thought of him.

To refuse to go back to Rosby.

To flee.

To run off, as Ana had said, and pursue a new life in a new world.

It was a fearsome endeavor, a path with no end she could see. A path I can hardly walk alone, she thought, slowing her pace at the rail.

Perhaps I don’t have to.

Her gaze lifted from the waters of the Lyrian to the helm of the ship, and a tall silhouette cut against the sunset. He stood alone, without Ana, without his helmsman, one hand easy on the ship’s wheel, holding course through calm waters and gentle winds. Scarlet clouds streaked behind him like a banner, edging him in flame.

Valerian Kane was already looking at her, his gaze an arrow aimed true.

The rules of a different world.

The words carried her up the steps of the quarterdeck, one hand light on the rail, the other trembling against her skirts. In both fear and anticipation, her heart leapt in her chest. But there was no fear greater than that of returning to Rosby, to Ryman. To the life she had already lived and could not stomach living again. This seemed easier by comparison.

“Lady Rose,” Valerian said, his voice somehow louder than the sea, and just as deep. He stood like a hero in a story, all long, lean lines, his hair spun gold.

She reached his side in an instant, barely feeling the timbers below her feet.

“Captain.”

The dream spiraled, sharp as a real memory, and Cat could not help but eye his fingers, still firmly curled around the smooth wood of the wheel. They were a sailor’s hands, striped with scars and calluses, brick rough. Agile and swift. Blazing through playing cards. Firm at the ship’s wheel. Gentle and fleeting on her arm. Wicked in her dreams.

“How do you find the work of a ship?” His voice broke the whirlpool of thoughts, and Cat’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“Impossible,” she replied without hesitation, even as her heart pounded. She knew what she wanted but could not fathom how to say it. “Endless.”

That seemed to amuse Valerian, and he grinned, nodding.

“Enticing,” Cat added, her voice sharper.

His smile did the same, lips curling.

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard someone describe swabbing the decks or braiding rope as enticing,” he replied, his hand leaving the wheel. His boots thumped, one after the other, closing the distance between them. “I can see the question on your tongue. Ask it.”

It was almost a relief to be given such a chance. Cat sighed, her shoulders dropping in release as she held Valerian’s curious stare. Green eyes ticked over her face, and she could feel him trying to read her.

“Might there be something here for me?” She tried to hold the forceful tone, to sound resolute as she felt. And desperate too. “On the Covenant?

With you, her mind said, though she could not summon the courage to voice it, much as she hoped Valerian perceived the thought anyway.

He did not speak, his smile frozen, losing some of its mischief. His chest rose and fell between the folds of his collar, open in its usual way. Her prayer bead still glittered there, turquoise as the sea, a trophy. A piece of me, Cat thought, yearning to touch it again. To brush fingers against skin and feel flame beneath.

“Cat.”

The flat tone of his voice, hollow, hard, was like the blow from a hammer. Her resolve shattered, a broken mirror scattering, her heart caught amongst the pieces. She clung to them anyway, much as the sharp edges bit, hope bleeding in her hands.