A ship sailed near the Refuge, spearing for the open dock next to the one that Sol was aiming for. Fynn swore, and Sol stepped back into his chest. “Maybe not the port, but if that ship doesn’t get out of my way—”
Fynn reached around her and grabbed the helm, whipping the wheel around and jarring the Refuge into a sharp tilt towards the harbor. The prow narrowly missed the stern of the other ship, and Fynn cursed beneath his breath. Several Wind-Wielders laughed at him from the deck. “Bastards.”
Sol gripped his arm to right herself. “Can I sink them?”
“I wish,” Fynn muttered. “But I’m not in the mood to pick a fight today.”
“They started it,” Sol pointed out. She glared at the ship in question as Fynn steered them into the empty dock. Amael tossed the anchor overboard, and Sol rocked into Fynn’s side as the ship jolted to a stop.
“Forget about them,” Fynn said. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’ve got a port to explore and supplies to buy. Where’d you put that list?”
Sol patted her pockets and frowned. “I think I left it in the cabin.”
“Of course you did, just like something else that’s important.” Fynn poked her in the chest, then lightly tapped his temple. “Fortunately for the both of us, my memory is far better than yours. Come on. And leave the animals on the ship. Draven would turn some heads, but Indyr would have the entire country offering us the ship’s weight in gold, and I can’t be certain I’d say no.”
Both he and Sol peered over the banister to find Gracia playing with Indyr, the creature having doubled in size since Sol had rescued him from Dryu. He romped about the deck like a dog, chasing after an old apple that Gracia rolled across the planks. Fynn shook his head at the tongue that lolled from his open mouth.
Sol winced. “We’ll leave him here,” she agreed. “Gracia won’t mind looking after him.”
Fynn sketched her a playful bow and motioned to the stairwell. “After you, milady.”
Sol elbowed him between the ribs. “Stop that,” she said. “That’s far more likely to turn heads than either of the creatures on this ship.”
Grinning, Fynn followed her down the steps, Draven on their heels as they emerged onto the main deck of the Refuge. Riel immediately strode towards Fynn, fierce determination etched into the crevices of her face. He braced himself.
“I’m going into the port,” she declared. “I haven’t stepped foot on dry land in two months, and my Magic needs some sort of release before it kills me. Tending to the garden isn’t enough anymore.”
Fynn raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for my permission?”
“No,” she said. “I’m telling you. I am getting off this ship for at least an hour, and you can kiss my ass if you think otherwise.”
The Captain laughed as he slung an arm over Sol’s shoulders. “I’ll leave the ass kissing to Gracia. Handle your business and take as long as you need. We’re not in any rush.”
Sol looked up at Fynn and smiled, her hazel eyes shining the color of the sea. “Why don’t we stay the night?” she suggested. “If we’re not in any rush, what could it hurt?”
His crew inched forward at the notion, and Fynn could not ignore the blatant hope on their faces. Even Arden’s expression was pleading, a line of rope coiled and tossed over her shoulder. She pointed at the shore in silent demand, and Fynn sighed dramatically. “Oh, all right,” he announced. “We can stay for the night. But only tonight. There are places out there waiting to be explored.”
Cheers erupted from the deck, and Amael marched over the planks and scooped Sol up into his arms. “Thank the Gods we have you,” he said, spinning her around until she laughed and beat her hands against his chest. “Fynn’s such a softie with you here.”
“Hey,” Fynn warned. “Watch it, or I’ll have you mopping the deck for the next month.”
Amael beamed. “You wouldn’t—”
“Captain!” Milo cried, flailing over the ship’s rail and pointing at the dock below. “We have a problem—”
The deckhand was sent hurtling across the planks, sliding over the ship’s deck until he collided with the adjacent banister. Fynn moved towards him, his eyes wide as Milo’s name became trapped on the tip of his tongue. But the heavy, unmistakable thumps of a bounty hunter boarding Fynn’s ship rooted his feet in place, and it was Jax who rushed to Milo’s aid, patting his brother’s cheek and rousing him back into consciousness.
Thymis must truly be at odds with him if Fynn’s luck had come to this, if the ship that Sol had nearly splintered through was that of a pissed off bounty hunter.
He grabbed the Princess’ arm and yanked her behind him. Amael flanked his left, Riel his right, their hands reaching for their weapons. Fynn’s heart thundered in his chest, but it was not fear that gripped the Captain in a vice. “What the Hell are you doing on my ship?” he demanded. “Lowering my plank wasn’t your personal invitation to come aboard.”
To Hell with not picking a fight today.
But the bounty hunter that boarded the Refuge, Fynn had seen him before, and not just from the deck of his own ship right before he’d taken the helm from Sol. In Arrowbrook, in the alley where he’d first kissed her, this hunter had tried to take her from him. He’d smiled so grotesquely at Fynn that he’d glimpsed the golden caps covering his teeth.
Dinah, Fynn remembered. This man’s name was Dinah.
Sol must have remembered him, too, because she gripped Fynn’s arm as he stretched his hand back towards her.
Dinah tracked the movement, studying Sol with an appreciative eye before disregarding her entirely. Her hair, Fynn realized. He did not recognize her without her long, coppery braid. Relief swelled in his chest despite the three other bounty hunters who trampled up his ship’s gangplank.
“I hear you have a bounty to collect,” Dinah said to Fynn. “I hear it’s a big one.”
He yielded a single step back as Draven stepped in front of Fynn. The direwolf bared his teeth and snarled. Across the deck, Indyr hunched low in front of Gracia. He growled, a sound so grating and deep that Fynn shuddered. His spiked tail slapped across the planks in warning. Perhaps he and the beast weren’t on the greatest of terms, Fynn still apprehensive of anything with wings and teeth, but he would kiss each of Indyr’s clawed feet if the dragon helped him protect Sol.
“If you’re referring to the girl you saw me with in Arrowbrook,” Fynn replied dryly. “She no longer travels with us. We left her in Jadoa.”
Dinah grinned at him, a smile that split his scarred cheeks and furred his hooded brow. “Aye, the Princess of Sonamire,” he mused. “Such a pretty thing, and worth so much in gold. What a shame you didn’t keep her for yourself.”
Sol gripped Fynn’s arm and dug her nails into his skin.
“Yes,” Fynn agreed. “What a shame. Now, if you don’t mind, my ship is feeling a bit crowded, and my crew and I have places to be.”
Fynn moved, preparing himself to blast them all away. But three of the four hunters on his ship, Dinah included, lifted their grime-covered hands. Flames kindled in their palms, and Fynn held his breath as a gust of wind tore over the planks. It was not a wind he had conjured.