“Very well,” she says at last.
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have one more prisoner to see.”
Though Draxen’s ship is bigger than mine, I’ve opted for more rooms up top
rather than larger captain’s quarters for myself. Since I actually care about my crew, I’ve had a room fashioned for treating injuries.
This is the one I start for.
On my way, I spot Enwen at the port side railing, surveying the crew. He’s less of a concern to me than Kearan. I’ll have someone keep an eye on him, but
that can be sorted out later.
Mandsy leans over the cushioned table in the room, where Riden lies on his
back, asleep. His breeches have been sheared at the thighs to allow easy access
to the pistol wounds. The room smells of ointments and blood.
“How is he?” I ask.
“Things are looking really good, Captain. The ball has already been removed
from his thigh. The shot at his calf went clean through. I bandaged him up as best I could, including the lighter cuts and stabs on his arms.”
Something inside me relaxes, and breathing comes more easily. “Good. Has
he been conscious at all?”
“Yes. He woke up once and looked at me funny.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He said, ‘You don’t have red hair.’ Then he fell back asleep.” She smiles knowingly. “He was awfully disappointed I wasn’t you, Captain.”
“Nonsense. There are plenty of redheaded women.”
“If you say so.”
“Alosa?” The voice is faint and unsteady.
“Riden.” I step up to the head of the table so I’m in his line of vision.
“I’ll just leave you two for a moment,” Mandsy says.
“Yes, thank you, Mands.”
She closes the door behind her.
His face is pale, but his chest still rises and falls, filling with air then releasing it. I never truly appreciated that motion until now. His arms and legs are covered
in bandages. There’s barely more skin than white strips of cloth.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Like I got shot. Twice.”
“If you weren’t so injured already, I’d beat you for what you did back there.”
“Freeing us?”
I shake my head. “No, you idiot. Getting yourself shot! Twice!”
“Pain goes away eventually,” he says. “Death is permanent.”
“You’re awfully lucid for a man who was shot.”
He smiles before his face turns to seriousness. “I’m sorry for what those men
did to you. I can’t possibly know how awful it was for you, but I imagine it was
horrific.”
I look at him incredulously.
“What?”
“Do you see me?” I ask.
“Yes. What—”
“I’m standing. I have no injuries. No gunshot wounds, and you think I had a horrific time? I’m fine.” Although I’m furious that Theris—the real Vordan—is
still alive.
“How is my brother?” Riden asks.
“He’s in my brig.”
“Alive?”
“Yes, alive! You think I want a corpse stinking up the place?”
“Thank you, Alosa.”
I wave him off like it’s nothing. “I trust you find your own accommodations
satisfying?” I ask when the silence becomes too long.
“I’m on a table.”
“Yes, but it’s the only thing in the room aside from Mandsy’s case of healing
supplies. Not a mess in sight. There’s nothing for you to obsess over.”
He laughs. When he’s done, he asks, “What happens now?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. My father and I have some planning to do. The men
from your crew who are still alive, I’ll drop off at some port. I can’t let Draxen go free. He clearly won’t let his defeat go, so he’ll remain my prisoner for now.
But no harm will come to him or you if I can help it.”
He locks eyes with me. His expression is so grateful, so relieved—you’d think I’d made him king of his own island.
“You saved my life, Riden. I’m simply returning the favor.”
“Is that really all it is?”
“Yes.”
He takes a deep breath. “When we were on that island, I learned so much about you. I accused you before of enchanting me, of toying with my mind. I know now what it really feels like to be under your control. I realized you were