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SERPENT
Andry
They boarded the trader at a fishing village, this time under Sigil’s advice. She seemed to know everyone Sorasa did not, and passage on a ship bound for Almasad came cheap.
“Another godsdamned boat,” Dom sputtered, staring into the sea below.
After two days on the water, Andry was thanking his lucky stars that he was not plagued with seasickness, doomed to empty his guts over the side of the ship rail as Dom did. The Elder was better today, but still green as his cloak, his infinite focus fixed on the waves lapping against the side of the Larsian galley. The others gave him a wide berth, though Charlon kept offering him wine, which Dom kept refusing. Valtik said a charm over him, which possibly made things worse. Sorasa ignored him entirely, deep in conversation with Sigil at the prow of the ship, the women as starkly different as night and day.
Sigil was broad and tall, her face turned skyward, reveling in the daylight. Not like Sorasa, who was a shadow next to the Temur wolf. Her lips barely moved as she spoke, her face a mask, while Sigil was quick to grin or scowl.
Andry wanted to eavesdrop, if only to pass the time.
Corayne was certainly trying. She stood as close as she dared, halfway down the long, flat deck of the galley, hidden behind a pile of crates netted to the ship.
She smiled when Andry sidled up to her, leaning against the rail.
“Honorable squire, are you joining me to eavesdrop?” she said, nudging him with her elbow.
His arm buzzed at her touch. “I think they’d skin me alive if I tried,” he answered, and he meant it. “What about you? Have you figured it out yet?”
“I’m smart, but I’m not a mind reader, Trelland.” Corayne narrowed her eyes at the prow, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Whatever she promised the bounty hunter must be big. Someone with a higher price than Charlie.”
Charlie.Corayne’s familiarity with the Madrentine fugitive was no surprise. After all, she was more accustomed to criminals than anyone else. And besides, she spent half the night going through the forger’s seals and markers, trying to memorize them for her own use. They’d become quick friends, the fallen priest and the pirate’s daughter.
“Maybe she offered herself?” Andry suggested. “Certainly an assassin has a price on her head.”
Corayne barked a laugh. “I think Sorasa would sell every person on this ship before risking herself.”
Andry grinned. “She’d sell Dom twice,” he said, pleased when Corayne chuckled again. “But not you,” he added, without much thought. It was the truth, after all.
Her smile disappeared as if he’d thrown a bucket of cold water over her. She turned her face into the wind, searching the vast blue horizon. The sun bounced off the waves, dappling her face in shades of gold. Her eyes remained inscrutable, black as pitch, a hole to swallow the world.
“They all hover over me like I’m some kind of child,” she murmured, her fist closing on the rail.
Andry chewed his words. If he could have conjured a cup of tea for Corayne, he would have.Butmint and honey won’t change her circumstance.
“Are they wrong to?” he said carefully, watching her face. Her brow tightened. She didn’t move, but he could tell by the angle of her body that she wanted to touch the sword hidden beneath her cloak. “If you don’t make it to the Spindle, then all this is for nothing.”
Corayne looked to him sharply, her teeth bared. “There are others. I’m not the only Corblood idiot walking the Ward.”
“And where are they?” he prodded, still gentle. Andry Trelland had seen enough spooked horses and hot-blooded squires in the training yard to know how to maintain some semblance of calm.Even if Corayne an-Amarat is more terrifying than either.“You’re the best hope we’ve got. That comes with consequences.”
She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Does one of them have to be a brooding immortal listening to my every heartbeat?” she growled, nodding at Dom only a few yards away.
“If it keeps you alive, yes.” Heat spread across his cheeks, a flush blooming over his brown skin.That was forward, Trelland.“I mean, we need you alive—”
Corayne threw up her hands. “Wedon’t even know howthisworks. My blood, the blade. Then what? Wave it around?” She pulled back her cloak for effect, revealing the sheath across her back for a second. Her face spotted with color and, frustrated, she ran a hand through her unbound hair. The black locks curled in the sea air, clinging to her neck.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he muttered, wrenching his eyes away. “We’ve got Valtik, and Charlon—Charlie—seems to know what he’s talking about too, even if he is a bit young to be a priestanda fugitive—”
She only pushed closer, setting her stance so he was backed against the crates. Andry’s mouth clapped shut.
“You’ve actually seen one, though. You were there. With the Companions.”
Wood pressed into his shoulder blades as warmth spread over his body. No amount of squiring had prepared him for a girl like Corayne. Noble ladies, perhaps, shy behind their hands or scheming in their silks. But not the girl in front of him, with a sword on her back and maps in her pockets, the starless night in her eyes.
“I’m with the Companions now,” he said, trying to change the subject.
