Page 52 of Of the Stars and Sea

A newfound excitement buzzes through my veins. Grayson agreed to increase my share of the treasure—and if it’s as substantial as legend suggests, I could pay offallour debts. We would be free. My crew and I might actually have a way to evade Red Beard’s control over us. Raven’s death might actually mean something now.

“No.” I shake my head. “The rum is all I need.”

“Good.” He walks back toward the door and opens it, revealing Collin on the other side. “Make sure you keep an eye on this one, Collin.” Grayson glances at me over his shoulder and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips. “I have a feeling she enjoys being chased.”

A sharp rod of pain stabs through the center of my forehead as I roll over, burying my face in a soft pillow that smells like a warm sea breeze with a subtle hint of cedar wood. “Mmm.” I breathe in deeply, then instantly regret it as another jolt of pain shoots through my skull.

I moan and bring my fingertips to the center of my forehead and push hard. The tension releases some of the pain at first but as soon as I remove my fingers, another dart of lightning hits between my eyes.

“You drank too much rum last night,” Grayson’s voice is distant, sounding as though he’s underwater.

I try to blink my eyes open and regret it the moment the sunlight beams into them. Burying my head back in the pillow, I take in a stuttering breath. Some rustling sounds from behind me and even the slight noise makes my heartbeat thud against my skull.

Through the fog of the pain, I try to think back to the events of last night. After he agreed to increase my share of Thaeto’s treasure, he went back downstairs for a long while and Collin brought me the rum I asked for. In fact, he brought me the entire bottle after I kept requesting he fetch me another shot into the waning night hours as I worked on the puzzle.

“Close the curtains.” I groan, waving my hand over my head in the direction I think the window is in. It’s hard to tell which direction is which with the splitting of my skull.

Grayson lets out a soft chuckle before I hear his feet moving across the wooden floorboards. They squeak under his weightbefore I hear the wisp of the curtains being drawn. Lifting my head from the pillow, I keep my eyes closed for a moment longer, preparing myself for the visual assault.

Slowly creaking them open, I draw my brows against the ache in my head.

The first thing I see is a tall glass of water on the bedside table along with another glass that looks to be filled with mud water.

“Harrick’s cure for hangovers,” Grayson says.

“What is it?” I ask as I slowly flip onto my back and rise onto my elbows.

“Better not to ask, but I’ve seen it work many times before. Here.” He extends the glass toward me. It’s cool to the touch, but the moment I get a whiff of whatever contents slosh against the sides, my stomach roils in protest and I feel bile rise to the back of my throat.

“I promise it works wonders,” he encourages and I pray to the heavens he’s not playing some horrible joke on me.

Pinching my nostrils shut, I put my lips to the edge of the glass and down it. As soon as I swallow the last mouthful, I feel my stomach tightening like a vice and I nearly wretch all over the bed.

“Deep breaths,” Grayson croons in a soft voice I didn’t know he was capable of making.

I glare at him, but heed his advice and breathe in deeply through my nose before sighing it all out through my mouth. I do that a few more times until my stomach settles and the pain in my head starts to subside.

I look at the glass, where remnants of what tasted like moldy tree bark taint the sides. “That was awful.”

“But it works.”

I look up at him and nod. “Yes, I think it does.”

Grayson is dressed in his all-black garb this morning with his belt secured firmly around his hips and his bandolier strappedacross his chest. His eyes are a vivid blue that shine brighter than they have the past two days and he looks well-rested. Not like he spent most of the night sitting downstairs drinking rum with his men while I worked the night away uncoding the Serpent’s Key. He looks like a god ready to go into battle and I feel like . . .death.

Swinging the duvet to the side, I’m met with an assault of goosebumps that spread across my bare legs.

Bare. Legs.

Mouth ajar, I stare at my naked skin and it takes me a moment to register that I’m lying in bed with nothing but my undergarments on and Grayson is only a few feet away. Heat flushes my cheeks and I scurry to grab the duvet and cover myself.

“Did you undress me last night?” My voice squeaks as I wrap the duvet around my shoulders and make sure all my important parts are hidden from sight.

Grayson laughs and I hate the way it sounds like a smooth roll of thunder beckoning me from across a stormy sea. “Taking advantage of drunk women isn’t my thing, Rowenya, if that’s what you’re getting at. But to answer your question, you started undressing yourself when I came back up to the room.”

I blink at him slowly, trying to recollect the memories of last night after I got deep in the bottle. My head spins as I pull for them, but nothing comes. I rub my open palms against my shut eyes before looking back to Grayson.

“I undressed myself? In front of you?”

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