Page 17 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
“You really think I was going to stay onThe Nostoswhile you were all out here actually accomplishing something?”
Katrin understood, she really did. Feeling captive and contained on a ship still caused an unnerving chill to wash over her entire body.
“It wasn’t supposed to be negotiable, Farah,” Leighton cut in. “I am the captain of the ship until Ander is rescued, and as captain I ordered you to stay aboard. You realize you could have jeopardized all of us? Cost us our lives—cost you your own?” His voice was fierce but firm. Leighton did not mess around when it came to the safety of his crew. Not after everything that happened to his people in Cyther.
“I wouldn’t have cost any lives. I doubt my father even cares that I am missing,” Farah muttered.
“He would care that you betrayed him.” The lithe wolf had finally shifted, her flowing black cape billowing in the breeze that crept down the port’s empty streets.
“I even doubt that.” Farah looked off into the darkness, her hand shaking just slightly, just enough for Katrin to notice.
Chloe cocked her head to the side, her eyes slowly turned down toward the princess’s feet. “I am sorry. If that is true. No child should ever feel like their father finds them insignificant.”
Farah swept by Chloe, walking farther toward the center of the town, as if she knew the way. “Trust me, if your father was anything like mine, you’d prefer to be seen as insignificant.”
Chapter Eleven
Katrin
The faint glow of the moon would be their only source of light as they ventured the final streets to the townhouse. The building was rather inconsequential against the others—red brick and half cleaned windows. A safe house hidden amongst the merchant buildings. Leighton approached the door first, rapping three times, then stopping, then two more. A slat slid open in the door, and a set of worn gray eyes peered out.
“Ethnikí Antístasi,” the nauarch whispered through the door to the man. The slat slammed shut and a series of locks and bolts whirled and clicked.
When the door opened, a short, heavyset older man stood in its archway, the hair on his head matching the deep gray of his eyes. Asmile plastered on his face, edges of his lips curving up from ear to ear. “Leighton, my boy! I’m so glad you made it. Hurry in, hurry in now. We don’t want you seen.” The man waved them inside.
Dark navy paint lined the walls filled with paintings of the isles and battle, even the Olympi. To their right lay a room filled with plush velvet chairs and couches, a roaring fire heating the crisp autumn air that had followed them inside. Men sat around in the room drinking from large bronze cups, bantering back and forth like there was no worry in the world except who could drink the most ale.
Katrin recognized a few of them from Skiatha, and those she didn’t, bore the same sea serpent and crossed sword tattoos on their arms. A group of deadly warriors who presently looked like nothing more than old friends meeting in a tavern to play cards. It brought a warmth to her heart to see such a scene. That such goodness could still be found even in the darkest of hours. Even when so much was at stake. For this moment—short moment—they could just be men.
“This must be the queen.” The old man bowed toward her. “Pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Pleasure is all mine…I’m sorry, I don’t think Leighton mentioned your name.” Katrin extended her hand. That look on his face seemed almost familiar.
“Yes, yes, he often forgets about this old man. Cal, former captain of the Nexian fleet, at your service.” He extended his hand back, giving a firm shake.
Leighton snickered from where he had joined the other soldiers, greeting them with warm smiles and handshakes. “It’s hard to forget about you, Cal, when you never shut up.”
Cal shrugged. “I don’t have many years left. Can’t blame me for it.” The nauarch shook his head and picked up a pint of ale he’d been offered. “And who else do we have? Silver hair, blue eyes”—he sniffed the air—“smells like she rolled around with the hounds…”
The young wolf narrowed those icy eyes, but her grin curved up so high and her shoulders softened. “You know, Uncle, you really are something.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you.”
Uncle?So this Cal was Chloe’s blood, yet Katrin had never heard of him. Now the question was—did he hail from their father or mother’s side? Her gut was telling her that she could trust him, but she still wondered what power he might be hiding behind that bright smile.
“And who is that brooding lady over there?” Cal pointed toward Farah, who stood leaning against the wall in the shadows, arms crossed beneath her cape, eyes flicking back and forth at the family that sat before her. Because that was what Cal and his men were to each other—family.
“That is Farah Athanas,” Leighton replied.
“Ah, yes, the spy. She looks much more—how would you say?—intense in person compared to her correspondence.”
“I think that might just be a trait of an Athanas. They always look like they are pissed off.” Chloe chuckled, but the sound was anything but lighthearted.
“Could be.” Cal didn’t look convinced as he glanced away from Farah and back toward Katrin. “We have much to discuss, Your Majesty. If you wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone, I would like to discuss the only chance we have of rescuing my nephew alive. Grab a glass of wine on your way in, this might take awhile.” Cal held open the door to the small study across the hall, beckoning her inside.
Katrin couldn’t say no to a glass of wine.
“Katrin—may I call you Katrin?” Cal asked, walking toward a worn leather chair in the small study, now just the two of them. Fire raged in the corner from a lavish fireplace, delicate engravings of the Olde World intertwining in a pattern around it.
“Considering we are to be allies, I cannot see why not,” Katrin responded.
