Page 35 of Of the Stars and Sea

I clear my throat. “TheTrinityis far superior to theCaelestia.”

Tommy snorts as he rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Rowenya, but your ship istinycompared to this one.”

I elbow him in the ribs and he laughs, the innocent sound in stark contrast to the gruesome past he just revealed to me. “She might be small, but she’s mighty. And aside from yours, no other captain has been able to see her coming when we set sail for them.”

“Ollen wood, right? That’s what theTrinityis made of?”

“That’s right.” I start peeling the other half of the potato in my hand, careful to keep the skin from flying outside the rim of the bucket nestled between my feet.

“I thought all those trees were burned to the ground after Ujun destroyed the Dark Moon coven.”

My father never spoke of how he found the ollen wood to build theTrinity, but it was normal for him to hide things from me. I had no idea he had dealings with Red Beard until after his death and I had been cast out of my family home by my grandfather. Red Beard was able to hunt me down and force me to collect my father’s unpaid debts. I’m sure there are many secrets that went to the grave with my father. Most I will never uncover.

“I thought so too, but my father was a . . . resourceful man,” I say, settling for a word that still doesn’t quite do him justice. “If there was anyone in the Southern Realm to discover a hidden trove of ollen wood, it would have been him.”

“He sounds like quite the pirate.”

“He was.”

Tommy stops peeling and I feel his eyes on me. “What happened to him?”

I take in a deep breath and sigh it out. “The same thing that happens to most pirate captains. He was betrayed by the people closest to him.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy’s voice is just above a whisper.

Images of my father’s body swinging in the gallows flood my mind like a tidal wave. The memory of his death used to haunt all of my dreams, but as time has moved forward, the grief has shifted into bitter anger and something far more foul that I cannot name.

“It was a long time ago. I’ve lived a lot of life since then.” I shuck another piece of potato skin off with a little too much force and it flies over the far edge of the bucket and onto the floor.

“And now you’re here with me, peeling potatoes.” Tommy sighs like the idea of our situation makes him feel lesser than.

I force a smile, remnants of unwanted thoughts lingering at the edges of my mind. “I thought we were having a great time together, Tommy. Are you not having a great time?”

He snorts, but a grin starts to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I kind of am.” He leans closer to me and whispers, “Honestly, I like your company much more than most of the men’s on this ship.”

I toss my hair over my shoulder and bat my eyelashes at him playfully. “I would certainly hope so. I’m much prettier.”

Tommy blushes and focuses back on his knife and potato with a focused determination. I laugh and his cheeks turn a darker shade of crimson.

After another hour of peeling, the cook finally releases Tommy and we set for the main deck. The moment we make the final step up, I’m met with strong arms crossed over a large chest.

Looking Grayson square in the face, I roll my eyes at him. “What do you want?”

He smirks, revealing just a flash of his canines. “Not happy to see me, Little Pearl?”

“Would you stop calling me that?” My hands ache to shove him away, but I keep them firmly at my sides.

Tommy must have picked up on the tension because he scurries past me and darts across the deck.

Grayson runs his fingers through the strands of my hair, stopping when he gets to my mother’s pearl. I still at his closeness. “Now why would I do that when it annoys you so much?”

“You’re insufferable.” The breath in my lungs is shallow as I glower at him.

His scent wraps around me as he leans down, casting a shadow over me. His hand moves to the back of my head, pulling me closer until his lips graze the cuff of my ear. “I’ve been told that I can be quite palatable, Little Pearl . . . if you ever get the chance to taste me.”

An intoxicating measure of hatred and lust have heat simmering in my blood and my toes curling in my boots. I close my eyes, just for a moment, and an image of me running my tongue down the center of his chest clouds my vision. A sweet ache grows between my legs; the friction of my pants is a cursed tease as I clamp my thighs together. The pad of his thumb starts to stroke the nape of my neck.

It feels so good.

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