Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Which gives her the opportunity to smooth things over. “What happened with Bronagh has nothing to do with Nox. It was personal. He stole something from me.”
The innkeeper grimaces. “I believe it. That boy has been bad news ever since he started up that business of his, but that still doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to murder him in the middle of my dining room.”
“Come on, Ralph. He wasn’t murdered. There isn’t even any blood on the floor. It was a little disagreement that got out of hand.” She looks shaken down to her core, her freckles standing out starkly, but she still manages a sweet smile. “It won’t happen again. You have my word.”
He sighs. “It would be best if you didn’t stick around for very long. I’d love to continue to help you, but I can’t afford for you to endanger what I have here. You understand.”
“I do. We’ll wrap up our business in a day or two and be on our way, and you’ll never have to see us again.” She lays her hand on his forearm, all sweetness and innocence. “I promise.”
She’s good. Even freaked out and shaken, she’s handled the innkeeper with grace and a heart-wrenching sincerity. He holds up his hands and takes a step back. “Just finish your meal. I’ll make sure no one bothers you again.”
“Thank you.”
I consider the exit, but Maeve didn’t eat enough. More, as soon as Ralph hurries away, she seems to wilt. I actually put out my hands to catch her, but she doesn’t need the help to get back to the table and sink wearily down into her chair. She picks up her spoon and pokes at the stew listlessly, her eyes dimmed. “You can’t kill him, Lizzie,” she says softly.
“You’ll find that I can do exactly that.” I kick one of the chairs around the edge of the table so I can sit at her side. “The real question is: Do you think I scared him enough that he’ll risk running immediately or wait for high tide?”
“He’s back aboard the Serpent’s Cry. With his crew around him, he’ll convince himself that there’s nothing to fear. I doubt he’ll run at all. This is his home.” She sets her spoon down. “I’m really not hungry anymore. Let’s go.”
We pull on dark cloaks that Ralph provided and slip out into the night. I immediately sneeze. “I fucking hate this island.”
Maeve laughs softly, though it’s strained. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a time or two.”
Across the square, the tavern is still filled with the voices and music and bright lights, but we skirt the edge and stick to the shadows. I hold my cloak to my face, but it doesn’t stop my intermittent sneezes as we slip through the buildings to the edge of town. The trees’ floral scent clogs the air, making it impossible to smell anything else. I don’t like it. They even block out the moon overhead, which makes my skin prickle. Too close. Too claustrophobic.
I breathe a sigh of relief when we emerge from the forest on the far side of the bay from where the docks are, near where we left our boat. Or I try to. Despite my best efforts, I sneeze, and then sneeze again. The air still tastes like strange flowers on my tongue, at least until the sea breeze chases it inland. I rub furiously at my nose. “Don’t laugh.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I glance at our boat. It hasn’t been nearly long enough since we were trapped aboard. I don’t want to go near it, but we’ll need it for what comes next.
I crouch next to Maeve near a boulder on the rocky shore. We both have excellent night vision, but even I’m having a hard time picking apart the ships bobbing gently in the distance. They each have a handful of lanterns, but it does nothing to differentiate one ship from its neighbors.
“Tell me about his ship.”
Maeve draws in a ragged breath. She seems diminished from the woman I’ve come to know, and my fists clench with the need to fight something and revert her back to the steel-spined, quick-witted woman who told me she wants to spend the rest of this journey in my bed.
Bronagh escaped because I acted impulsively. And okay, fine, she may have a point about killing him before we divine the location of her pelt. If he’s finished his trading circuit, it might already be gone, but it seems risky to sell a pelt within a few days’ travel of Viedna. Surely he’d be looking for a buyer with deeper pockets, which means going farther afield. He hasn’t had a chance to do that yet.
Her pelt is on his ship. I’d stake my reputation on it.
“His ship is the Serpent’s Cry. It’s technically a trading vessel, but I think they might be doing some smuggling below the radar of the Cŵn Annwn. I never had proof one way or another, but some of the comments that Bronagh has made suggested that.” She draws in a careful breath. “He liked to brag. I thought it meant he trusted me, but it turns out he just liked to hear himself speak.”