Page 14 of The Princesses of Ruin
The wood underfoot trembles as the heavy anchor drops off the side of the boat with a splash. Shouts on deck warble through the foggy morning air. Within minutes, the ship is properly secured to the dock and the captain appears at the top of the gangplank.
The soles of her shoes squeak on the wood as she descends. Wet pants cling to her long, muscular legs, drawing my eyes up to her waist, chest, then neck. Her brown, chin-length hair is plastered to her rosy, wind-whipped cheeks, but her grin is broad.
She kicks out a foot as she reaches us at the bottom. “Little Andrew, how you’ve grown into a fearsome Underbelly scalawag!”
Zane taps her boot with his. “Fair travels, Emillia?”
I look around the woman up to the ship. The deckhands are moving too slowly, and apprehension spreads through my stomach.
“Abysmal,” the captain groans, pulling my attention. “Where’s the nearest inn? I need to wet my throat and warm my bed.”
Zane nods to the waiting donkeys and wagons. “Two hours out if you stay with the goods, but you can ride ahead with a horse and make it in thirty minutes.”
My gaze wanders back to the gangplank. Perhaps I can just board the ship and find the ipsain myself. It would be rude, but rudeness wouldn’t be the end of the world. Dead ipsain would.
“You haven’t moved into the Upper Kingdom yet? Ah, I can see why not!” she says, scowling at our surroundings. “You do this?”
“No, the queen—”
“If the pleasantries are over,” I say, cutting in, “where is the ipsain?”
Emillia looks me up and down. I feel a sense of unease, and an urge to stand taller as her gaze evaluates me. I straighten my spine.
She smirks. “Trolling behind. I assure you, we’ve monitored the sea temperatures carefully and adjusted the depth accordingly.”
Heat prickles up my neck, but I nod away the feeling. “Good. I will moderate the temperature for retrieval and transport. If I may?” I ask, gesturing to the gangplank.
She looks at Zane with an indecipherable expression that borders on amusement, then back to me. “I’ll lead the way.”
She turns on her heel and marches up to the ship. A twinge of unease tightens my gut at the sight of the narrow plank, but I follow her. We dodge deckhands as we make our way to the helm, then to a heavy crank behind it.
The captain takes a wide stance and braces herself as she turns the crank, reeling in the thick chain. Her shoulders are tight beneath her wet clothes, and her ass—
There’s a heavy throat clear and my eyes dart up to meet the captain’s. She’s grinning.
“Forgive my informality,” I say. “I’m Adrik Lemtov, the alchemist for the Nest.”
Her smile turns grimace as she grunts into the growing difficulty of the crank. “Emillia Alejandra. Captain of the Sea Snake, Wolfsheim’s foremost merchant vessel.”
Water splashes back to the sea and I look over the taffrail. A massive cage encases a translucent cube of sea water, and inside is the colorful ipsain coral. Orange light pulses over the ridges of the sheet-like creature, indicating its fluctuating temperature.
I reach out, white wisps of my magic stretching from my fingers into the water. There’s no barrier around it, only water somehow made solid at the outer edges to respond to the chain. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but that’s not an issue at the moment. The ipsain’s flashing sheafs is.
A chill shoots up my spine as I ascertain the water’s temperature. Too warm already. I push on my magic, fully encasing the cube before running strings through it in a grid pattern on every axis. I drop the frequency of my control as I have a million times, instantly reducing the temperature of the water. Bit by bit, the coral’s red pulsing bleeds into orange flares, then slows to a softer pink until the rainbow radiance of the creature shows through.
I lean back and look at the captain. “How was it you’d intended to maintain the temperature?”
She engages the lock on the crank and winks. “Magic, of course. You always this uptight?”
“Stop flirting with my alchemist,” Zane says, deadpan.
She grins at him. “Can’t. It’s in my nature.”
Zane gives a barely perceptible roll of his eyes, then turns away. “The longer we linger, the more attention we’ll garner from the palace.”
“How far is your reach?” Captain Alejandra asks me.
“For explicit control as is necessary for this journey, a handful of paces. But I can extend my control many miles if the intent is broad.” I shrug, trying to dissipate the tension building in my chest. Her focus narrows on me, but her smile doesn’t falter.
