Page 18 of Queen's Griffon

Monty, one of the deckhands, hauled the queen into his burly arms and headed into the ship.

Griff rubbed his face and glanced at Kreed. “Status?”

“Well, as of a few minutes ago, thought I was gonna be captain. What possessed you to go diving into the drink after the woman?” His first mate crossed his arms and gave him a look. A look he’d learned from Griff.

“Can’t collect a bounty if she’s dead,” was his lame reply. In truth, he didn’t know why he’d done it.

“You’re lucky I spotted you bobbing like a cork out there. Flash of lightning hit just in the right spot and time.”

“I owe you,” Griff replied. “You saved my life.”

“Bah. I did it mostly so I wouldn’t have to manage this scurvy lot. Never had a hankering to be captain.”

Griff’s lips twitched. “Is that why you turned down the offer to take over theRebellionafter Captain Montgomery retired?”

“Why would I sail the second-best ship left in the Verlorian fleet?” Kreed scoffed.

“You still haven’t told me the status of our vessel yet.”

“Like I’ve had time to assess shit,” Kreed grumbled. “Ship seems fine so far. Storm’s rough, but we done sailed through worse. Five crew lost in the attack that I know of. Still need to do a proper headcount to be sure there’s not more. Got six with Doc, getting stitched up. Only Jones is iffy. He had his stomach ripped open, but I didn’t see any guts so with any luck, he’ll heal.”

Five gone. Griff didn’t know the names yet, but he mourned their loss. A life at sea could be the best thing, but also the hardest. It wasn’t an easy life.

“Since when are there undine this far south?” Griff muttered as he slogged for the bridge.

“Since today, apparently. We’ll have to let the other captains know.”

On the bridge, Dickson had the helm once more, his face grim as he fought to keep them from keeling over.

“I’ve got the wheel. Take a break.” Griff took over from his sailor.

He fought the storm for the next few hours. Grim-faced, tense, determined. By the time it calmed, he was more than ready for bed. During that time, he’d gotten a fuller report on the situation. Rail damage at the aft. Six crew missing, not five. Jones would live, the slice not as deep as thought. All in all, it could have been worse, much worse, considering how many undine they’d faced.

With dragging feet, he headed for his cabin, stripped as he entered, his clothes still damp from the storm. Knowing his room, he didn’t bother lighting a candle but rather made his way to the bed and flopped onto it. Only as he stretched did he realize he wasn’t alone.

He pushed up and squinted in the dark. Couldn’t see, of course, so he patted the body lying under his covers. Petite with long hair.

The queen.

Monty, the idiot, had placed her here instead of her cabin.

He thought about carrying her to her room. The very idea exhausted him.

Instead, he rolled over and closed his eyes.

Chapter 7

Avera

Avera woke and blinked.She didn’t recognize the bed, one much more comfortable than what she’d been sleeping in of late. The covers were thicker and softer. The wall she faced smooth and varnished.

Whose cabin was she in? Because she was definitely on a ship, judging by the subtle rocking.

Last she recalled she’d been drowning. The water closed over her head and she panicked. Someone must have saved her. She’d have to thank them once she found out who.

She rolled to the other side and froze. The bed held someone else, their broad back definitely masculine. As she sat up, quietly and carefully so as not to wake him, she noticed she wore a shirt of billowy gray large enough it covered her. Mostly. Her bare legs hung out and the V of the neck plunged shockingly low on her torso.

As she eased to the foot of the bed, she spotted a familiar sword leaning by the door. In that moment she realized just whose room she found herself in

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