Page 83 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“And the body?” he asks, unbothered.

“A soldier, by the looks of it. But he’s long since dead. Nothing more than a skeleton now. It’s on your left.”

He waves his hand until his fingers catch the net. “Can you reach him through this?”

“Reach him? I am not touching him.”

He sighs with exasperation. “Fine. Guide me and I will.” He holds out a hand in front of him, palm up.

I stare at it. Aside from when I’ve fought Tyree off, I’ve happily avoided any contact with him until now. “What do you want with him, anyway?”

“His boots, if he wears any.”

“He does.” They appear to be fine leather. I grimace. “You would wear a corpse’s clothes?”

“And you would not, if given no other choice?”

I bite my retort. Atticus always did say I was too pretentious for my own good. Besides, I saw how Tyree was hobbling out there. The rocks must be punishing his socked feet.

With a heavy groan, I collect his wrist and guide it through a sizable hole. “I suppose this is better than carrying you.”

His deep chuckle curls inside my ear. “I would enjoy seeing you try.”

I ignore how close the move brings us together again, or the strong pulse I feel beneath my fingertips. “There.” I peel away from him.

“That wasn’t too awful, was it?” He slides his hand down the length of the skeleton’s boot, finding its heel. “If he’s old enough, this should come off …” His words drift as he tugs.

One of the crates in the netting shifts with the sudden jerk and an ominous crack fills the air above us.

Before I can shout a warning, Tyree pulls free of the netting and plows into me, tucking my head to shelter me in his arms. Every muscle in his body tenses as he braces for impact.

A rotted beam drops down, landing in the water with a heavy splash.

Silence surrounds us again. “Are you okay?” he asks after a beat.

My face is pressed against his chest. “I’m fine. I thought you couldn’t see me.” I’m surprised by not only how quickly he moved but how quickly he did so to protect me.

“I can’t. But it would seem that I’m acutely aware of you even in complete darkness.” He loosens his grip but doesn’t release me, his palm grasping the back of my head. The humor that normally laces his tone is absent.

This is far too close for me. I shove against him with my palms. The netting must have been anchored to that beam because the ends of it now lie open for easy picking.

“Your corpse is free for looting. Have fun.” I trudge through the water toward the daylight, suddenly needing air.

“That was certainly worth the trouble,” Tyree declares with renewed energy as he hops from one stone crop to the next. Is it the leather boots or the dull merth sword at his hip that excites him so? He heaved the netting with the cargo tangled inside and laid it out for pilfering. The crates proved disappointing—casks of stale spice and soured wine—but Tyree was thrilled as he slipped the sheathed weapon from the skeleton’s hip. Dislodging stiff bones from the boots was trickier, but he managed and slid them on with a boyish grin.

“Speak for yourself. There was nothing of value for me, and I’m drenched in seawater again.” Beads of sweat trickle down my neck as I struggle to follow, the terrain now a steady incline.

“You’re nearly dry. And I think my ability to walk and save us from any dangers we come across benefits you greatly.”

“I do not need you to save me.”

“Could have fooled me back there.” His voice is smug and taunting.

My annoyance flares. “How do those boots fit you? Because that soldier had very small feet.”

Tyree’s head tips with his boisterous laughter. “His toes had crumbled off! And come now, Annika, I thought you were cleverer than that.” Tyree spares a smirk over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me I’ve given you too much credit.”

I pause long enough to collect a stone, closing my fist around it, the urge to whip it at his head overwhelming.

---