In the Veins of the Drowning(7)

“I’m not in my fancy clothes,” he said, apologetically. “Would you like me to change?”

My stomach swooped. “No.”

I set my stinging hand in the crook of his arm, and then he began to amble us around the outskirts of the room, watching the revelry with a smirk on his face. I’d known of the captain for years, though we’d rarely spoken. It had been only a fortnight since I’d been told of our engagement, but my tight muscles unspooled at his proximity. The knot that Agatha’s disapproval had left in my gut loosened, fluttered.

“Shall I guess how many pounds your dress weighs?” he asked.

I gave him a full smile.

He stopped us. “Again.”

“Again, what?”

“Smile like that again.”

Our gazes locked and an ache began in me. I wondered what his touch might feel like. I wondered if his skin tasted like salt. “You’re incorrigible tonight.”

He gave me a wicked look. “Every night.” His warm fingers wrapped around my hand, and I flinched. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a cut.”

He took it and turned it this way and that, inspecting the weeping wound on my middle finger. His brow knit. “How did this happen?”

“It’s nothing. His Majesty didn’t realize…” Evander knelt and stuck his hands beneath the hem of my skirt, where he fumbled with the petticoats. I glanced around the room with wide eyes. “Gods, stand up—”

“Wait.” He looked up at me with a crooked smile on his lips. A quick jerk, fabric ripped. He rose with a strip of white linen pinched between his fingers. “Give me your hand.” Gently, he wound the fabric around the cut. “Can you keep a secret?” he said, his graveled voice filling only the small space between us.

Startled by his question, I looked up into his desperate gaze. I felt as if I were made of secrets. “Yes, I can.”

“If he were not my king…” Evander tucked in the loose end of the linen, then kept my hand in his. “I’d run him through for hurting you.”

The sound of treachery spilling from the captain’s mouth like a profession of love made me still. It thrilled me. It terrified me. “That’s very chivalrous of you.”

Evander took a step closer and the briny scent of him engulfed me. It beat through me, making my chest fill with thrumming heat. The look he gave me was expectant, earnest.

A protector, even if it was only in spirit, was not something I’d hoped to find in the captain. I’d only let myself wish for a thread of kindness, for him to be preoccupied enough with his job to let me continue with my quiet life still intact. I rose up onto my toes and set a quick kiss to his cheek. “Your secret is safe with me.”

With each cup, the bitterness of King Nemea’s wine turned sweeter.

Evander set another goblet into my hand. “A dance?” He smiled over the rim of his own. “It’s been years since I’ve tried, but I promise I won’t embarrass you the way the king of Varya did.”

I found King Theodore across the room with a self-righteous pinch on his face. “Fine,” I said to Evander, absently.

“You sound thrilled,” he teased.

“Just swear you’ll catch me if I swoon.”

He came closer, and the salt on him sent shocks shooting through me. “I swear on the beloved deity herself.”

We pushed ourselves onto the crowded floor, and when the music swelled, Evander’s hand fell drink-heavy on my hip. He gripped the folds of my skirt, the flesh beneath, and then he pressed us together as he guided me across the floor. He surrounded me, the heat of his body spilling through my own.

It was its own kind of intoxication. To be touched, to feel his pulse beneath my fingers when I grabbed his wrist for another dance. Then another.

More wine. More of that sea scent.

There were women—I’d seen them—who were lit from within, and when they became wives that light dampened. I did not know if it was their husbands that doused their flame, or if they themselves curled up around it, their very souls trying to protect it from extinguishing. Regardless, I had been prepared to watch myself dim. But Evander’s touch lit sparks inside me, and somehow, he coaxed the light within to burn brighter, to burn steadily.

The night, the music, the dwindling candles, all began to blur as we crept toward morning. My head hummed with drink. The dance floor still brimmed with bodies, and the music still beat through the air. Evander tightened his hold on my ribs and pulled me closer. He set his mouth to mine, his top lip slipped between my own, and the biting taste of salt filled my mouth. I gasped.

It felt like blood, hot and pulsing, flooded my back, deep around my spine. My body tensed. He slowed our dance. “What’s wrong? Are you tired?”

I could only nod.

With a soft tug, he led me toward the grand doors, and in my haze, I let him. His strong arm snaked around me, his warm breath fanning against my neck. I arched into him mindlessly, tilting my head back, when my gaze snagged on the wing—on the etching below it.

THE MONSTER IS ALWAYS SLAIN

The king of Varya’s words scurried through my mind, a bug inside my skull.

Is the captain an idiot as well as a murderer?

“You all right, love?” Evander’s voice was gentle at my ear.

“I don’t feel well.”