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“Easy pickings you said.”
“In a way. I know theNightwindhas been called a ship of the undead but it’s actually theNorfinn, that’s the ship’s name, that suits that moniker. If they’re already dead, they’re impossible to kill. It can get dangerous. But you’ll be safe in your cage.”
“I can fight.”
I laugh. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that. But if you can’t overtake me, you certainly can’t overtake the undead.”
“I’ve trained with a sword.”
I raise a brow, biting back my amusement. “Where? When?”
“The king liked to indulge me. I learned here and there.”
“I’ve seen you handle a sword and, I’m sorry to say, you’re not very good at it.”
“I can hold my own.”
“And yet you let Aerik treat you the way he did.”
Her eyes blaze. “I did notlethim do the things he has done!” she snaps. “You have no idea what it’s been like. And he is no different than you with your hot iron.”
Fair enough. I can’t pretend I know what it’s been like for her.
“My apologies,” I say. “I didn’t mean to sound so crass.”
“You’re nothing but crass.”
I shrug as if to say,pirate.
“But maybe you can teach me,” she goes on.
I grin. “Teach you how to wield a sword in combat? Why, so you can stab me at the first chance you get?”
“I don’t think stabbing you will do any good,” she mutters.
“You’re right. I find being stabbed to be highly annoying.”
She chuckles at that, a light melodic sound and I realize it may be the first time I’ve heard her laugh. Suddenly I want nothing more than to make her laugh again.
But then she catches herself, like she remembered that she hates me, and her face goes sullen again. Moody but still beautiful. God Almighty, I would take her in any mood and be happier for it.
“When do you think we’ll reach them?” she asks, averting her eyes, perhaps because I’m staring so blatantly at her.
“Tomorrow evening,” I tell her. “We’ll pull back a little as we get closer to the island. Let them get settled. Then we’ll plan an ambush.”
She finishes her glass of wine from the goblet and turns the stem between her fingers. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, luv.”
“Have you ever killed a mermaid that you knew was a mother?”
A most peculiar question. This woman has a bleeding heart underneath.
“Not that I know of,” I say. “It’s hard to imagine any of those vicious creatures as mothers, but I suppose mermaids have to come from somewhere. Just figured they came from the devil himself.”
A look comes over her eyes, one that harkens to storms at sea that would swallow a ship whole. “Maybe they did,” she says blankly, and I swear I see a hint of a smile.
PARTTWO
