Page 35 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

Much like its owner.

Speak of the demon …

Annika emerges from the deck below, nibbling on a biscuit, her cascade of plump blond ringlets only slightly matted. Even several days at sea, donning a dress stained with my blood and a blanket half devoured by moths, she still appears regal.

When we first arrived in Cirilea ahead of my sister’s nuptials and I laid eyes on Princess Annika Ascelin, daughter of King Eachann and Queen Esme, it took me a few beats to remember who she was—what she was—and why I had come to Islor in the first place.

Certainly not to bed her.

Annika’s beauty is without equal, I will grant her that. It’s no wonder she has an endless supply of fools crooking their necks and donating their veins. That she’s royalty is the sharpened edge on a masterfully crafted blade.

“Did you bring me a biscuit?” I call out, my stomach growling.

She follows my voice and wrinkles her nose as if disgusted by the sight of me. “You know where they are.”

“The stairs are a challenge with my injured leg.” The truth is, I can barely stand, but I don’t want anyone on this ship knowing how vulnerable I’ve become.

“Perhaps you should have stayed in your perfectly comfortable room in Cirilea, then.”

If I had stayed there, I would certainly be dead by now. I shake my head. “You enjoy kicking a wounded animal when it’s down.”

“When that wounded animal plotted to kill me and deserves to suffer?” she snaps. “Gladly.”

The end of a nearby hemp rope suddenly whips across my thigh, landing directly on my laceration. I scream, my vision blurring from the agony. For a moment, I think I might pass out. “Is that the best you can do?” I manage through ragged breaths. If only I could shed these blasted cuffs Atticus slapped on me to quell my affinity.

With a satisfied smile, she moves to the side of the sailboat, casting her pretty blue gaze out over the sea.

It’s a good reminder that, as lovely as Annika may be to look at, her viciousness is without mercy.

I tuck the dagger into the sewn-in sheath in my breeches pocket.

“The wind has picked up,” she notes, and I know she’s not talking to me. Her tone doesn’t bleed with hatred anymore.

Captain Aron nods a greeting. “Aye, we’re making good time now.”

“How far are we from Westport?”

“Another few days without interruption.”

“And how long before the sirens find us?”

“Won’t be long now. See that over there?” He points to a small jutting island. “That is known as the Tooth. Once we cross that, we are in their territory.”

She shudders, and I know it’s not from cold because the breeze that came with dawn is balmy.

“You’re frightening her with tall tales,” I call out before I can stop myself. Why do I attempt to soothe her nerves? Let her tremble. I’m dying because of her.

“Tall tales?” Captain Aron looks to me curiously. “Why do you claim this?”

“Because I have sailed from Westport to Northmost and back again, and I came out unscathed.”

Annika snorts. “The only tall tale is his own.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.” I settle back against the mast, closing my eyes, feigning sleep.

One … two … three …

“When was this little adventure of yours?”

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