Page 25 of Winter's Fate

She spent her days on the deck with Brin, her evenings playing cards with the soldiers. She had the distinct impression that they’d been keeping up a certain level of tidiness for her benefit. No stockings strewn about, all their belongings stored neatly in the bins beneath the bunks. Mages, the place even smelled fresh, as if they propped open the trap door during the day to let the breeze flow through, dispelling any lingering hint of sweat.

It was strange to feel that someone wanted her company enough to do such a thing. In fact, her brain kept trying to protest, insisting that anyone smart enough to think of airing out the room would have done so for their own benefit, not simply because of her presence.

But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

After three nights of games, the place felt comfortable and familiar. She could admit, if only privately, that part of her wished this would not be the final night. That she could stay on the ship, in the known territory, with people who actually seemed to be enjoying her company.

Though perhaps the tidiness might not last much longer.

Now, she was seated at the large table, a fan of cards spread across her palms. They’d taught her their snakes and roses game, plus a dozen more, though some she’d known by other names—they referred to capture the queen as king’s forfeit, for example—but there was no doubt they were the more practiced players. She had yet to win a single hand of any game.

Until now. Laena could barely suppress her grin as she laid her hand out on the table. “I would say the ransom is mine, gentlemen,” she said. “Wouldn’t you?”

The men gasped, Edmun letting out a groan of disappointment. “Well done, Princess,” he said. “I did not anticipate that move.”

Laena narrowed her eyes. The soldier beside her, Huck, swallowed hard. And on her other side, young Godfrey looked up from the letter he’d been writing, just a littletoowide-eyed to be believed.

“You let me win,” she said, offended.

The men burst out laughing, Edmun slapping the table while Huck flailed his hands in protest. “It’s our final night on the ship, Princess,” he said. “You had to leave one game in triumph.”

“I see. So it was your scheme.”

The men roared with laughter, drowning out Huck’s protests. Laena smacked him on the shoulder, then tossed her cards across the table at Edmun. “I expect you to renew the game at the campfire each night between the sea and Vunmore,” she said. “I will best you honestly, or not at all.”

The old soldier inclined his head. “As you say, Princess Laena. Accept my apologies.”

Huck leaned one elbow on the table. “Are you still working on that letter, Godfrey? I’d have thought you could have written twenty letters in the time you’ve spent on that one.”

“He has,” Archer put in from the far end of the table. “He keeps crumpling them and tossing them out to sea.”

Godfrey twitched his fingers back and forth on the table, pushing the letter about with quiet shushing noises. “The ship’s captain says he will deliver it to her when he next returns to Etra. But I cannot decide what I should say.”

“Tell her of her beauty,” Huck said immediately. “Women love that. Her eyes. Her complexion. Her taste in dresses.”

Edmun shook his head, laughing, as the men all tried to speak at once.

“No,” Archer said, his voice rising above the others. “Tell of your undying love. My husband loves that.”

“None of that.”

Laena looked up to see Callum Farrow standing at the entrance to the officers’ corridor, his shoulder propped against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. It must be the only way he could stand upright in the tight quarters without ducking.

He brought with him the strong scent of whiskey. How long had he been drinking? He didn’t appear unsteady on his feet, though it was difficult to tell with him braced against the doorframe.

Laena met his blue eyes. “What wouldyoutell her then, Captain Farrow?”

“Tell her what you wish to say.” The captain’s words were clear and unslurred, but there was an undercurrent to them, a feeling of something barely contained. “Not what you think she wants to hear.”

Laena raised an eyebrow. “And what, Captain Farrow, wouldyoutell her?”

Perhaps it was unwise to push him when he had clearly been drinking. But she found that she very much wanted to hear his answer.

“If I were writing to a woman? I would not waste time on her beauty, of which I would assume she was already well aware. Nor my feelings for her, which words would not properly convey in any case.”

Laena rolled her eyes. “We can spend all night discussing what you would not write. Whatwouldyou write?”

Callum didn’t move, but his eyes flared. Suddenly, it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. No soldiers to overhear and no table separating them. “I would tell her how much I wanted her,” he said, holding her gaze. “I would explain the many ways our bodies would fit together. Where I would put my hands when we next met. How I would relieve her of her clothing. And exactly how my tongue would?—”

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