Lara was shifting and swaying as though she wanted nothing more than to reach over and snatch the knife back, so Aren did it for her, wiping the cheese off the blade with the side of his trousers before returning it to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “My father gave them to me. They’re the only thing he ever gave to me.”
Aren wanted to ask why that mattered. Why she cared at all for anything to do with the greedy, sadistic creature who’d sired her. But he didn’t. Not with everyone listening.
Jor picked up the bottle of Maridrinian wine. “Desperate times. Desperate times.” Then he popped the cork and poured, something landing with a splash in his tin cup. “Now what do we have here?”
“What is it?” Lia asked.
“It appears a smuggler’s prize has lost its way.” The old soldier held up something that glittered red in the lamplight, then he tossed it Aren’s direction. “There’s a buyer at Northwatch who’s going to be very dissatisfied with his wine purchase.”
Aren held up the large ruby. He was no expert on gemstones, but judging from the size and color, it was worth a small fortune. A very unhappy smuggler, indeed. Shoving it in his pocket, he said, “This should cover the taxes the individual was trying to evade.”
Everyone laughed then dug into the supplies, all of them battered and half-starved after a day of fighting and rowing and almost dying, more interested in shoveling food down their throats than in conversation. Lara sat next to Aren on the bunk, balancing on her knees a spread of cured meats, cheeses, and a tin cup of water as she ate.
Her slender hands and fingers had an assortment of old scars, nicks and lines, and one knuckle that was slightly larger, suggesting it had been broken at one point. Not the hands one would expect of Maridrinian princess, but whereas before he’d questioned what sort of life she’d been living in the desert to earn those scars, now he was having very different thoughts about those hands.
Of how it would feel to hold them.
Of how it would feel to be touched by them.
Of how it would feel—
“Lights out!” Jor announced. “The wind tells me this storm will break overnight, and we’ll want to be back on the water at dawn.”
All eyes shifted to the eight bunks, then to the ten people in the room.
“Either double up or draw straws for the floor.”
Gorrick climbed to the top of one of the bunks, then pulled Lia up with him, and Aren winced, hoping they’d keep their hands to themselves for once.
“I’ll take the floor,” he said. “But I’m damn well going up for a nap in my feather bed once we get home tomorrow.”
“We appreciate your hardship, Your Majesty.” Jor reached over and turned down the lamp, plunging the safe house into near darkness.
Aren lay on the stone floor, one arm folded under his head for a pillow. It was cold and uncomfortable, and despite his exhaustion, sleep wouldn’t come as he listened to the deepening breathing of those around him, a thousand thoughts filling his head.
When something cold brushed against his chest, Aren almost jumped out of his skin before realizing it was Lara. She was leaning out of the bunk next to him, her eyes lambent in the faint glow of the lamp. Wordlessly she caught hold of his hand with hers and tugged him upward, drawing him onto the bunk.
Pulse roaring in his ears, Aren climbed over her, his back resting against the cold wall, unsure of what to do with his arms and his hands or any part of himself until she curled against him, her skin icy.
She’s just cold, he told himself, and you need to keep your hands to yourself.
Which might well have been the hardest thing he’d ever done, with one of her knees between his, her arms tucked against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, and her breath warm against his throat. He wanted nothing more than to roll onto her, to taste those lips and peel that taunting bit of silk from her chest, but instead he pulled the blanket over her naked shoulder, then rested his hand against her back.
The room was humid with breath and heavy with the smell of sweat and steel. Taryn was snoring as though her life depended on it, Gorrick was jabbering in his sleep, and someone—probably Jor—was farting at regular intervals. It was very likely the least desirable situation to share a bed with his wife for the first time. But even as her hair tickled his nose, his arm fell asleep under her head, and a crick formed in his neck, it occurred to Aren, as he drifted off, that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Hours later, Aren awoke to a rhythmic thumping. Frowning, he turned his head and found Lara’s eyes open and gleaming in the faint light. Pulling one hand from under the blanket, she pointed upward and cocked her eyebrow with an amused smirk.
Gorrick and Lia. Likely warming themselves up after their turn at watch.
He winced, whispering, “Sorry. It’s a soldier’s life.” Then he mentally ran through the watch, realizing that Jor had skipped him over and that Taryn was gone, which meant it was almost sunrise.
“Want to go outside?” Relief filled him when Lara nodded.
They pulled on boots and clothes and weapons in near silence, Lara taking food from one of the crates and following him out into the night. The storm had blown over, the sky a riot of silver stars, the only sound the crashing of the waves against the island’s cliffs.
Taryn was perched on a rock in the shadows, but he heard her murmured thanks when Lara went over and gave her some of the food.
“Aren, take her to the east side.”
“Why?”
Even in the darkness, he felt Taryn smile. “Trust me.”
“All right.” He took Lara’s hand. “We’ll be back at sunrise.”
Aren hadn’t been to this particular island many times, so he went slowly. He managed to find his way to the eastern lookout by memory, a flat bit of rock that hung out over the ocean. A sea of blue starlight stretched before them.
Lara stepped ahead, still holding on to his hand. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
Neither had he, but Aren forced his eyes from her face to the calm water below. “We call it Sea of Stars. It doesn’t happen often, and always during War Tides, so it doesn’t get much appreciation.”
Glowing strands of algae covered the water, the clusters forming brilliant blue spots of light on the sea, making him feel as though he stood between two planes of starlight. It rippled on the gentle waves, casting shadows on the rocks that seemed to dance to the rhythm of the swells. They stood watching for a long time, neither of them speaking, and it occurred to Aren that he should kiss her, but instead he said, “What changed?”
Because something had. Something had shifted, softening her toward him, perhaps to all of Ithicana, and he wasn’t sure what it was. For near as he could tell, most of her experiences since she’d arrived hadn’t been particularly good. She was the daughter of a man who was more Aren’s enemy than his ally, and he shouldn’t trust her. Didn’t trust her. But with every passing day he spent with her, he found himself wanting to trust her. With everything.
Lara swallowed audibly, pulling her hand from his grip and crossing her legs on the ground, waiting until he sat next to her. The blue light from the sea illuminated her face, making her seem otherworldly and untouchable. “When I was growing up, I was told many times the amount of revenue Ithicana was rumored to make in a year off the bridge.”