Page 42 of Virelai's Hoard
Riley didn’t stay for the rest of the funeral. She couldn’t stand it.
***
Riley shuffled her feet in front of Calla’s door. This was it. She was going to get Patch back and breathe a sigh of relief.
And yet she debated knocking on the door at all.
The captain hadn’t been spotted on deck since the funeral. What mental state was Riley going to find her in? How would Sable react if she went to her empty-handed after all the effort she’d spent on coaching her?
Riley still had that sketch, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Eryx about it yet, and she didn’t really trust asking anyone else. Haddock would likely know something about it too, he liked spending his spare time on deck recounting stories to anyone who would listen, but that was just the issue. If whispers of the Heart suddenly started sprouting up around the ship, Calla wouldknow.
Double-crossing both the captain and the first mate was not an option. Not this far from the treasure. If she didn’t pick soon, there would be no one to protect her if either one got suspicious.
With a sharp breath, Riley gathered her courage and brought the hand holding two empty cups to knock the back of her wrist against the door.
When the door opened, Riley offered a tired-looking Calla her best charming smile and held up both her hands, with the cups and a generous pitcher of rum. Skipping this cycle’s party in favor of hanging out with Calla had seemed like a sensible choice, especially as there seemed to be nothing festive about the rest of the crew today.
And maybe, just maybe, some strong rum would be enough to loosen the captain up.
At Calla’s frown, Riley said sheepishly, “Thought we could, uh, celebrate Patch’s release. And me finally getting out of your hair.”
With a quirk of her eyebrows, Calla stepped aside and allowed Riley into the room. After she closed the door behind them, the captain walked to her bed and plopped down on it unceremoniously.
Tonight, it was unmade. There was a disoriented look to Calla’s normally dark, composed features, and her silky black hair was gathered in a messy bun.
Had the thing with Eryx affected Calla more than she let on? Or was this something else?
She still hadn’t said a word since Riley had knocked on her door.
Riley hid a frown and walked past Patch–sitting on Calla’s locked chest–to grab the guest chair from the desk and drag it near the bed. She used the locked chest to set down the tankard and cups, and Calla’s gaze regained some of its usual sharpness. Matched by a similar look coming from…Patch. Riley blinked at him, at his barely hidden indignation as she set the cups near where he was sitting.
What the hell?
She’d already suspected there was something of interest in the damn chest, but what could makePatchget territorial overit? This just got several degrees more interesting. Whatwasin there?
“Something the matter, Riley?” Calla asked, her voice husky as if she hadn’t talked to anyone else all day.
Riley drew her gaze away from Patch and filled the two cups. “He’s acting strange,” she said. She didn’t even have to fake her pout as she added, “I thought he’d be happy to see me, but I guess he has a different favorite human now.” As she spoke, she handed over one of the cups, and Calla was stiff as she reached for it. Their fingers brushed briefly, and Riley’s skin tingled at the contact. She tried to remember whether she and the captain had ever touched before, and came up empty. “How did you win him over?”
Calla looked down at her cup. She flicked a finger against it and watched the liquid ripple. Then she drank. “I didn’t,” she said eventually. “I’m not sure if rats hold grudges, but he might just think you’re the one responsible forthat.” She gestured to the bird cage under the porthole. “I’m sure he’ll be back to himself once he’s out of here. And I’m sure you’ll keep him from getting into more trouble.” Calla raised her eyebrows at Riley, daring her to say anything to contradict those expectations.
Riley downed the contents of her cup and grinned. “Of course, captain. I’m not sure your next punishment will be as pleasant as this one.”
She had thedistinctpleasure of watching Calla nearly choke on her drink, though she tried to pass it off as a scoff. “The first isn’t even done yet and you’re anticipating a second?” she deadpanned.
Riley just shrugged. She couldn’t deny what had become obvious to everyone on the ship at this point. She was a troublemaker through and through, even when she wasn’t trying to act like it.
“Maybe I should save us both the time and just stick you in the brig?” Calla asked, a teasing smile on her lips as she extended Riley her empty cup. “I’m sure Patch will remember to visit you sometimes. Or maybe you can pick up some newfriends.”
Riley laughed and filled Calla’s cup again. Oddly, she didn’t feel in the least bit threatened. Eryx seemed like a distant memory. “And part with your favorite cup-bearer?” she teased back.
From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Calla’s fingernails, short and red at the edges, as if she’d been peeling the skin off and hadn’t known when to stop. Faint welts went up her bare forearms, too. Scratches? Only now did it occur to Riley to wonder whether their captain had some sort of sickness. It might explain the self-imposed solitude, and the irritability. Could it be something contagious? She tried to assess whether she was feeling any differently now than before she’d set foot on the ship, but no, she didn’t.
“I wouldn’t sayfavorite.” Calla scrunched her nose in a rare show of playfulness.
Riley raised her eyebrows, composing her features in a completely serious expression. “Do you evenhaveother cup-bearers?”
Calla’s features smoothed. Too far already? “I don’t need any.” She brought the cup to her lips, looking over its rim at Riley thoughtfully. “I don’t make it a habit to… indulge.” The last word was soft spoken, and the elegant way Calla said it tugged at something in Riley’s gut.
