Page 8 of A Promise of Peridot
She’s right. Inappropriate.
The ship threw her chin into my sternum. My head was killing me. “I should never have made a move on you in the first place.”
A swaying lantern at the end of the hall cast her face in shafts of dim light. Insult bloomed in her olive eyes. Or was that regret? Pain? Whatever it was, I was too inebriated to tell. Clearly I couldn’t say the right thing sober, let alone trashed. “I just mean,” I tried again, “I knew what was coming. I shouldn’t have let us—”
“I know what you mean.”
I could feel her little heart racing. She was looking at me like—
Thatface—
Battles had been started over less. Wars.
The ship came to a lurching halt and we untangled from each other, despite all internal alarm bells that blared for me to do otherwise. The exact opposite, in fact. To bind her to me—even if she kicked and screamed—and take off through the sunrise. To leave this war, this prophecy, this revenge to the rest of them, and show Arwen the world. Show her me, for better or worse. Wring her forgiveness from her lips through days and weeks spent alternating between groveling and pleasuring her. I was a simple man—that approach would have worked for me. Perhaps she, too, could be swayed.
I stumbled back toward the captain’s quarters instead, nearly losing my balance and introducing my face to the slick, wet floor. Eyes firm on my shoes until a displeased sigh sent them up. Griffin, opening the door at the ship’s halting.
He regarded us at opposite ends of the passageway. Surely we both looked guilty, though I couldn’t think what of. I bit back a smile at the ridiculousness of it all. How absurdly, vastly out of hand I had let everything get. Arwen must have misunderstood my expression because she huffed like a furious horse.
Griffin shook his head at us both. “We’re here.”
3
arwen
I took Griffin’s frown as my cue to leave and scampered up the wooden steps to the deck in record time. My shoulders and waist still blazed with the memory of Kane’s large, warm hands. That had been too close—too charged. I inhaled to relax the tightness in my body. Thank the Stones he was so drunk. It was easy to ignore his sensual charm, his roguish charisma, when he couldn’t even speak without slurring.
Well, easier, at least.
I pushed through sturdy oak doors and unexpected sunlight washed over my face. The rays tingled on my skin and brought back memories of Onyx—cut grass, white butterflies, cicadas chirping. I’d almost forgotten in our near ten days straight of torrential downpour that it was still summertime.
Time was still passing, the world still turning, despite my mother’s death. Despite all we had lost. All I had done.
That sunlight was like liquid gold dripping down the towering masts as they climbed toward the sky. It should have pulled my lipsinto a smile. I thought of my mother, and how she would feel seeing me frown up at the sun.
But the bath of light only reminded me of all the lives I had taken in my rage, in my unchecked display of power. Flashes of dripping red and cracks of bone sang in my ears, and I felt more seasick than I had when the ship had been tossed like a piece of driftwood among the waves.
Eventually, more passengers made their way on deck, too. Some offered me a wide berth, scattering toward the ship’s railings or crowding beneath the billowing sails. Those who had witnessed my power weren’t eager to be near me, and I didn’t blame them.
But others were just thrilled to witness the storm’s clearing, and their chatter pulled my mind free from its tangled, gory web. Even Amelia, who looked pretty sloshed herself, was sporting a rare grin and turning her tanned face to the skies above.
I swore Griffin had said we’d arrived, but there was no land in any direction. I crossed to the other side of the ship to double-check, but we were anchored in the middle of a vast blue ocean—nothing but rippling waves and the occasional seagull high in the air above.
“Holy Stones, it’s over!” Mari cheered as she approached.
Ryder followed close behind, as he had the entire journey. He was a terrible flirt, and Ryder’s latest infatuation seemed to be my only friend. After a lifetime of sharing everyone with my more charismatic brother, I expected it to bother me, but instead I found a vacant well where my jealousy used to grow. There was, however, someone else on board who bristled against Ryder’s interest in Mari.
“Witch,” Griffin said to her by way of greeting as he buckled his black leather armor across his chest. “The king requires yourassistance.” His expression was serious—nothing new there—but he was fidgeting. Fixing his chest plate, tugging at his collar.
I’d never seen him do that before.
“Come on, man,” Ryder chided. “You know her name.”
“It’s better than calling herred,” Griffin said, gaze so murderousInearly cowered.
But Ryder only grinned and glanced sidelong at Mari. “That’s just a term of endearment,” he said, twisting one lock of her bright, bouncy hair around his finger and giving it a playful tug. “She knows I respect her enough to call her Mari. Don’t you, Red?”
I couldn’t help but peer over at Griffin. His glare said he was weighing the ramifications of ripping Ryder’s finger clean off and chucking it into the ocean behind us.
