Page 50 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

Suddenly, another force slammed into the side of my vessel, causing it to rock violently. Panic rising in my chest, I braced myself against the sides, unsure of what was trying to tip me overboard.

Despite whatever reassurances I had given myself regarding Ambrose’s warnings, the last thing I wanted was to be devoured by a sea creature.

I grabbed for my oar, and held it aloft as if it were a battle ax. Holding my breath, I waited for whatever had knocked into me to surface again. A long silence stretched, and I began to feel foolish. Maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe it had been nothing more than ice, and I was overreacting.

A towering wall of water suddenly rose, and crashed down on me, soaking my clothes and skin. Then as I cleared the water from my eyes, a colossal tentacle burst from the ocean’s depths and reached toward me with fierce determination.

In my panic, I completely forgot about trying to avoid detection from the distant ship and let out a blood-curdling scream. I closed my eyes, waiting for the huge sea beast to wrap its slimy arm around me and pull me beneath the waves.

A heavy weight landed in the middle of my boat and I flinched, unwilling to look at what might have climbed within, except…

“There you are, love.”

A large, distinctly human feeling hand wrapped around my upper arm, and then, the familiar feeling of being pulled through the shadows overtook all my other senses.

Suddenly, we were landing back on the deck of the ship. As soon as my feet hit the wood, Ambrose released his grip and I stumbled forward, crashing to my hands and knees. Salt water sloshed around in my mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe. I coughed and sputtered, struggling to catch my breath. My whole body shook uncontrollably, teeth clattering together from the cold.

I felt his presence looming behind me, and pushed up to sitting before turning to look.

Like me, Ambrose was drenched and his shirt clung to his chiseled muscles. However, unlike my shivering from the cold, he shook with fury. His body was rigid and his expression was a steely mask of anger. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That I would rather drown than be a prisoner,” I sniped back.

“Stupid Slúagh,” he hissed. “You were not a prisoner, but after this, all you’ve done is force me to make you one.”

I reeled back, more surprised by the use of the slur than anything else. “Is that how you talk to your human rebels, Dullahan? Or, should I call you Prince Ambrose?”

His eyes widened, and he seemed a bit surprised himself, as if only now realizing what he’d said. Then, he stiffened, and his face returned to its flat, emotionless look. “Get up.”

“No,” I said instinctively.

He reached for my arm and dragged me to my feet. “If you don’t get warm you’ll die anyway, and then I’ll have wasted my time for nothing.”

He was right. My teeth chattered and I could hardly feel my arms and legs, let alone my fingers, which made it hard to protest as he half dragged, half carried me across the deck to his cabin. As we walked, I saw that most of the crew had emerged from below deck and were watching us with expressions varying from curiosity, to anger, to smug satisfaction. I refused to meet anyone’s eyes, and let my wet hair fall down into my face.

Ambrose reached his cabin and kicked the door open, before stepping inside and slamming it shut behind us. A cold, uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

He released his grip on me and marched toward a trunk at the end of the bed, which I had barely noticed until now. He forcefully lifted the lid and grabbed a shirt and what appeared to be trousers before tossing them in my direction. The fabric hit me in the face with a gentle slap, but I managed to catch them before they fell to the floor.

“Put those on,” Ambrose demanded, before pulling out another shirt and trousers, presumably for himself.

My numb, red fingers shook as I held up the shirt to inspect it. It was massive, clearly meant for him, and would probably be the size of a tent on me. Still, I preferred it to the wet, torn clothing I currently wore. “Fine.” My voice quivered and my teeth clacked together. “Get out so I can change.”

He looked up at me with a mean smirk. “Absolutely not. I’m not going anywhere if you’re just going to try to run away again.”

I pressed my lips together and tried to stop shaking. I was not, in fact, planning to run away again. Even if I hadn’t destroyed the only boat, I now realized I would likely be better off waiting until we arrived wherever we were going and trying to slip away there, then launching myself back into the unforgiving ocean. I didn’t bother to explain that, however. He never would’ve believed me.

Instead, I stood a bit straighter, trying to regain some of my dignity. “You can’t stay with me at every moment. Even you have to sleep.”

“Yes,” he said, reclining backwards on the bed. “And I’ll do so right here where I’ll hear you if you try to leave.”

I blanched. “Where do you expect me to sleep?” I asked, already sure I knew the answer.

He looked sideways at me, before casting his gaze onto the edge of the small bed. “Here is fine, or the floor. Your choice.”

I gritted my teeth. “You cannot be serious.”

He didn’t look at me, but his lips tipped up in a smile. “You’ll soon realize, love, that I am always serious. I have no time for games.”

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