Page 15 of Trapped By Claws
Now.
I strode out into the narrow, wooden hallway. The ship bobbed and rocked, the waves far stronger than in previous days. A couple of the dwarves sat on the stairs, chatting amiably and smoking. They didn't notice me. Neither did the sentry.
I made my way through the hall until I reached the study once more. The oil lamp's soft golden light glowed beneath the door. A stern debate was happening. The captain was not pleased, his rumbling bass so low I struggled to distinguish words.
Then another voice spoke, sharper and deadlier.
That voice.
I knew that voice.
Without knocking, I pressed the door to the study open. My hand gripped the knob to keep the natural rocking of the ship from jarring it further open as I peeked inside.
I froze.
Corvin.
LEANING
Mama stood behind Hosvir, her hand at the base of her throat as she stared at Corvin with wide, frightened eyes. Hosvir stood with his burly arms akimbo, his stance strong and his gaze narrowed on Corvin. His iron-grey beard with streaks of red framed his broad features, but worry glinted in one narrowed dark-blue eye.
Corvin—my stomach somersaulted.
Salt's bane, he chilled and heated my blood at once. He stood on the other side of the room, his manner deceptively lazy and languid as he regarded Mama and Hosvir.
He was much taller in his human form than I'd expected. Long and lithe.
Almost like a dancer. Yet deadlier.
His expression was hard, and the unusual yellow-and-green stripes over his face, neck, and hands made his appearance all the more alarming and severe and…beautiful. His hair, though still loose and curled, was pushed back from his face in a more orderly fashion. He wore elegant black garb with accents of a dusky yellow-orange. The fashion was outdated and similar to the older northern traditions, but it was well kept and crisp, theblack fabric as rich and dark as if freshly dyed. His boots were oiled and shiny, his posture firm.
"This is your warning," Corvin said. No melody laced his voice, no playfulness danced in his eyes. "But you, Captain, should not require one. You know the purpose of these waters and what lies beyond the boundary. You know as well the agreement. You know how all of this works."
Captain Hosvir remained in his powerful stance. Though he was only a little over five feet tall, he looked strong enough to snap a full-grown man in two. His green-and-indigo kraken tattoo peeked out from the edges of his dark-green coat sleeves. The raging of his pulse along his throat and a flicker in his one good eye were the only real indicators that he was actually afraid. "Aye. I do, and we have not crossed the boundaries."
Corvin's eyebrow flicked upward in contempt. "No, but there's a storm coming. And you're dangerously close. It would take very little to send your vessel over the edge into forbidden waters. Especially when the boundary line shifts. And who is to say how far it will shift? You know the stories."
"We're headed to the Salt Channel. Not the North Sea," Captain Hosvir said gruffly. "We'll navigate it after the storm passes. No one here is trying to get anything past the King of the North Sea."
Mama stepped closer. Her fingers brushed Corvin's arm.
Captain Hosvir's eyes widened. He darted forward with surprising speed and drew Mama back. He whispered something to Mama in a voice so low I couldn't catch it before he placed himself in front of her. Though Mama was a little taller than Hosvir, she seemed much smaller and frailer, her expression now chastened and her shoulders drawn tight.
Corvin's eyes narrowed on her, disgust twitching in his features. He didn't even seem to notice the captain. "Do not touch me."
"Please. We are only trying to reach the Oracle of the Glass Mountain," Mama said, her voice shaking. "And—and we know of the island near the boundary of the North Sea. It would be faster if you granted us permission to enter the North Sea. We could reach both within a day if you would. Surely the king will understand that we are searching for my youngest?—"
"The king has no more mercy than the sea," Corvin growled. "There is neither mercy nor leeway in these requirements. If the boundary line shifts and you are on the wrong side of it, this ship will be destroyed."
"But if you would just speak to him and ask him for his permission so that we could at least visit the island—" Mama tried to reach for him again. Hosvir shushed her, reaching out with his large hand to grip her arm.
Corvin's glare turned icy. "No," he growled.
Mama fell back. She looked as if he'd slapped her. Her chin trembled as she bit back the tears. "My youngest?—"
"Means nothing to me and less to the King of the North Sea." The venom and ice in Corvin's voice could not have been any colder.
Mama darted forward, moving around Hosvir. She grabbed at Corvin's arm, her fingers clutching at his sleeve with desperation.
