“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am.” Fynn flopped back down and nuzzled his face into the pillow. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you. Maybe you’ll find something to spend all that gold on.”
Her shuffling feet scuffed over the planks like nails being dragged over stone. Fynn winced. “If you’d prefer I stay on the ship—”
He could not stop himself as he said, “I’d prefer to be left alone.”
Perhaps Sol’s desire for Fynn to live if only to take her to Nedros had wounded him deeper than he’d realized. Even if she had not meant it.
She hesitated and whispered, “All right.”
The shame that roiled in the Captain’s gut was not enough for him to apologize. He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but the exhaustion that gripped him had rendered him incapable of caring.
Certainly, Sol would understand. She’d nearly clawed him into pieces when Fynn had roused her from her nap.
He took a breath and shuddered. Fynn’s Magic was a summer breeze, one that would soon be spent if he did not let himself rest. His harsh dismissal of the Princess could be addressed when Arden’s life wasn’t at stake. His bruised and battered ego from the shame that his cruelty had brought him… he’d deal with that later, too.
Fynn did not hear Sol leave, did not know how much time had passed since she’d gone, but the gravelly voice that barked at him from across the room did not belong to the Princess.
“You really are as fine a bastard as any.”
His groan was muffled by his pillow. “Go away.”
Riel sat on the edge of Fynn’s bed. “Your Princess is out there sniffling,” she said. “What’d you do to her?”
“Nothing,” Fynn grumbled. “Told her the same thing I’m telling you: go away.”
“Ah.” Riel crossed her legs at the knee. “So, I’m guessing she didn’t realize you’re the world’s biggest asshole when you’re tired and to not take your nastiness to heart.”
“Is there something I can do for you,” he asked. “Or is there a reason you’re in here pestering me over a girl you don’t even like?”
The Quartermaster picked at her fingernails. “I was just curious, is all. Most people don’t leave this room in tears, especially with you sprawled across the bed.”
Fynn kicked his foot against her hip. “I don’t bring my flings onto this ship.”
“What about that one boy—”
“I don’t bring most of my flings onto this ship.”
Riel snorted. “You dropped him off in a foreign port and even he didn’t leave here in tears. Nothing but smiles as he walked the plank and yet your Princess is weeping near the mizzenmast. So cruel, my Captain.”
He kicked her again. “Stop referring to her as my Princess. She’s not my anything.”
“True,” Riel mused. “Perhaps I should start referring to her as ‘your cargo’ instead since all we’re doing is transporting her from port to port.”
“You’re a bitch, Riel.”
“And you’re cranky when you’ve gone without sleep.”
Riel shoved Fynn aside and stretched across the bed beside him. He rolled towards the wall to make room for her. “We haven’t shared a bed since we were children,” he grumbled. “And now I remember why. You don’t know the meaning of personal space.”
Nose to nose, Riel grinned as she nestled her head against his pillow. “And you always stole the blankets. We bickered so much that my father threw that godsdamned cot overboard and told us we could sleep on the planks.”
The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “It smelled like piss, anyway.”
Riel chuckled and closed her eyes. “I talked to Luca,” she said. Fynn held his breath as if waiting for some facet of bad news. “Arden’s condition hasn’t improved, but it’s not gotten any worse, either. If you wanted to get some sleep, he said she’ll be all right until we reach Arrowbrook. He’s concerned about you exhausting yourself to get us there.”
“I’ve got enough left in me to get us there within the hour. I’ll be fine.”
She did not argue, knew that doing so was futile. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Should I make an announcement?”
Riel punched him in the arm. “We should dock in Arrowbrook for a few days.”
Fynn angled himself towards the Quartermaster. “Why?”
“Luca’s a talented healer,” Riel said. “But if Arden doesn’t get better, he may need supplies we don’t have.”
“Or there might be a healer in Arrowbrook who can help.”
“Exactly.” Riel rolled onto her back and folded her arms beneath her head. “The crew could use the break, too. I know you’re anxious to reach Dryu, but—”
“Dryu can wait,” Fynn said. If his crew needed a break, he would give them one. It was the very least he could do. “I’m in no rush to be speared again.”
Or to fling Sol Rosebone down another pit of despair.
“Thank the Gods,” she rejoiced. “That inn near the merchant quarters with the hot spring serves a breakfast fit for royalty. It’s positively divine. Not to mention Gracia and I—”
Fynn interrupted, “We’ll dock in Arrowbrook for three nights. What you do with those nights is your business.”
Riel’s smirk was feline. “My business indeed.”
He turned onto his stomach and closed his eyes. “Either lay there quietly so I can sleep, or make yourself useful and inform our crew we’ll be spending a few nights in the port.”
“Aye, Captain.” Riel jostled the bed as she curled onto her side and rolled beneath the furs. “Happy napping, little brother. I hope you’re on the right side of the bed.”
Fynn nudged her with his foot as he settled down into the mattress. “Shut up.”
Darkness swept him into oblivion as he embraced sleep with open arms, Riel’s quiet laughter withering away into the snow-capped peaks of his dreams.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SOL
Despite the grave circumstances surrounding their stop in Arrowbrook, the crew’s excitement was palpable. But it did not extend to the Princess, their merriment as they romped about the deck and prepared to dock in the port. Sol was not eager to reach Arrowbrook, to spend even a moment on dry land after all this time at sea.
Not when Fynn was so upset with her.
Sol wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. She did not understand why she was crying, why she cared that the Captain had dismissed her so carelessly. She was nothing to this man, to this crew, and it would do her well to remember it. Fynn was not her friend, just the man who had promised to sail her across the sea and eventually leave her in Nedros. He would not remember her when this was over, and Sol should take strides to ensure she wouldn’t remember him, either.
Without the Captain’s Magic, the Refuge inched towards Arrowbrook on an ocean breeze and the calm pull of the tide. From the mizzenmast, Sol could see the smile on Gracia’s face as she navigated such gentle waters, as she steered them through the quay with the confidence of Thymis herself. She had done this before, had been here before, and Sol wondered how frequently the Refuge traveled so far south.