Page 81 of The Stolen Crown

The simple, ridiculous gesture earned me one of her raspy laughs. I would rid the seas of every damn yellowfin if I could hear such a sound each day.

By midday, the skies darkened and a heavy wind whipped sand around our ankles. Mira made quick work of stitching the canopy leaves together for covers, lids, and mats we could use in the skiff. She frayed the edges and deftly laced the leaves together, like weaving a fishing net. I removed the bolsters around the spikes and clay I’d used to secure a new place for a mast.

When I was satisfied the post would hold, Mira helped me secure rigging around the heavier linens we’d fashioned into a sail.

The shape of the skiff resembled its original form, merely with more support from beams and a new stern and sail. It was a homely-looking vessel, but it did not need to be stunning. All I needed was a boat that could reach the borders of the Ever Kingdom.

From there, we could make berth at any of the various isles and get a proper ship. We could send word to the palace.

With the amount of wreckage that kept washing ashore, I did not believe we were terribly far away. Gods, what I would do for nosy merfolk to show their damn faces. It was not often the fins made their way to the Far Seas, not unless they were ordered. The last I could recall of the maids willingly leaving the security of the Ever was to follow the elven folk who’d stolen Jonas’s bride.

When the heavens thundered, we covered the skiff with the leaves, secured our supplies, then abandoned the shore.

“How long before the full storm makes landfall, do you think?” Mira asked.

“Likely a chime or two.” I opened my gold pocket watch. The hands ticked like any other clock. There was no danger yet.

“Good.” She smiled back at me. “I desperately need to wash, and if we are to be holed away for a time, I fear I will grow rather offensive in such a small space.”

I chuckled. “I think the one you are smelling is me.”

Her hair was wild around her face, more dirt caked beneath her fingernails. Not once had I thought she looked anything less than stunning.

“We can wash if we make it quick,” I said.

At the pond, we stood shoulder to shoulder, neither of us moving. We’d washed together only once before, and it had lasted mere moments before the screams from the birds interrupted and led us to the dead village.

One night, and so much had changed. I did not know what to say, how to move forward. Gods, I wanted many things, but it felt as though my mind froze in unknowns and could not summon a next step.

“Hearttalker.” Mira’s voice was soft, almost uncertain. “I can’t seem to unlace my chemise. Would you mind helping?”

The thread of her garment was easily reached, and the woman had washed on her own a handful of times since being stranded. Mira peered at me from over her shoulder, a look of insistence in those bright eyes, as though daring me to question her word.

She wanted me to come closer for a purpose.

I cleared my throat and stepped behind her. Laces tangled around my fingers, and slowly, the back of her chemise peeled apart, revealing her smooth skin. Hesitation was there, a constant nagging in the back of my mind.

Another lace unthreaded. The tip of my finger traced over a gentle divot of her spine. Mira freed a soft gasp. Skin lifted beneath my touch. I took a bit of delight knowing such a reaction came from me, from my control.

My touch brought her pleasure.

Another lace, another brush of my fingertips over the edge of her shoulder. Mira sighed and, instead of shifting away, leaned into me. I pressed my brow to the back of her head, tugging on the chemise until the whole of her back was bare to me.

One palm held up the tattered garment over her chest when she faced me. “Thank you.”

I swallowed and traced the pattern of small freckles along her upper arm, like the starry tales of the Ever were printed on her skin.

Mira’s chest rose in jagged breaths when my fingers explored more, across the ridge of her collar, the smooth planes of her throat. As though my hands had finally gotten a taste of something they’d always desired, I could not stop.

“I—I—I figured being near…” Her lashes fluttered. “You know, small things might…they might help.”

I gripped her chin, angled her face near mine, and studied her as though I had never truly looked at her before. Gods, what it might be like to taste those lips. Would I be too rough, too much? Would I be slow and devour every surface of her?

Such a small action set my blood aflame, my pulse pounding in my skull. Before I could think too long on it, I guided Mira’s palm to the top of my belt. “Might need assistance with the buckle. It’s been soaked in the sea a great deal. Salt might’ve jammed it up.”

“Likely,” she whispered. Lips parted, Mira ran her fingers along the top of the leather. “Seems a little tricky.”

Bleeding gods, we’d barely touched, and already the heat buried in her words had my breath deepening and more blood rushing from my head to my greedy cock.