Page 63 of Pirate Witch
The crow’s nest is bigger than I thought it would be, and it seems like Kier has made it his home. The place is cosy, for all that it looks almost as though someone has taken an enormous barrel, and sliced it in half before spearing it onto the top of the ship.
There’s no gap to access it from below, so the sea of dark cushions lining the floor carpets the entire space. It’s lit by a dozen tiny glass lanterns which hang from ropes above us. The decor gives the impression that we’re floating in the night sky, surrounded by a thousand stars. I’ve honestly never seen a more cosy, peaceful space.
Kier’s put in a handful of personal touches. His sword is carefully laid out on a stand on one side of the nest, along with several other weapons. There’s a chest as well, and a couple of trinkets and baubles which pique my curiosity. The more I look, the more I see. A neatly folded blanket sits beside the chest and a small but carefully stacked pile of books is on the other side. The space definitely has more of his stamp on it than his cabin below does.
Kier sets me down, and it feels like my bare feet are stepping onto a silken cloud.
“This is where you sleep?” I ask, cocking my head curiously.
He nods, grimaces, and then says. “Yes, Val gave me a cabin too, but sometimes it’s just too warm inside the ship.”
I can see his point. Heisan ice fae, after all. Staying inside in the kind of tropical heat which is common in this part of the world must be a special kind of torture for him. It makes sense that he prefers it up here, exposed to the chill of the untamed ocean breeze.
If I weren’t a Lunar, the temperature would make me shiver. But my kind are built for the night, when the world is naturally colder.
The view is spectacular. I’m still not sold on the ocean, but from up here it looks like nothing else in the world exists besides the fleet, the shimmering waves, and the darkening sky above. The whole thing is a humbling reminder of how small we really are.
“I brought you up here to ask you a question,” Kier continues, and I turn around to find him on his knees, waiting for me. “In the Winter Court—my old home—there’s a tradition where we trick our mate into wearing our jewellery before mating them.” He pauses. “It’s supposed to be a way to signal our intentions to the other males, but I’ve had enough trickery to last me a lifetime, so I thought I’d ask instead.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Would you do me the honour of wearing something of mine?”
As he says it, he holds up a tiny fine chain, made of a strange, glowing white metal. It’s completely plain, except for the delicate, jewelled snowflake in the centre. The shimmering light it throws off is unearthly, almost like the maker has managed to capture pure moonfire in the gems. It looks like a bracelet, but when I hold out my arm, Kier shakes his head.
“It goes around your ankle. I thought a bracelet could get caught in a fight.”
That makes me smile. Kier may have been silent all these weeks, but he’s been paying attention. Standing on one leg in the crow’s nest—which seems to sway more than the rest of the ship somehow—is easier said than done. I’m forced to hold on to his shoulders for balance as he hooks the delicate white chain around my ankle. It’s so light I doubt I’ll even notice I’m wearing it most of the time, and easy enough to wear beneath my boots.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
He gently tugs me down amongst the cushions so I’m reclining against his chest. “It was once my mother’s. She gave it to me to give to my mate.”
I frown, turning my head to look at him. “You’re telling me I’m wearing jewellery that once belonged to a fae queen?”
Goddess, that’s got to be priceless. I can’t believe I thought I’d wear it inside my boot. Maybe Elsie can create a charm to protect my ankle. Or perhaps it would be safer not to wear it at all…
Kier chuckles. “Minor queen. The courts are self-governing, and the royals in them like to pretend they’re royal, but all fae know the only ruler worth anything in our realm is the Nicnevin.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
My fae mate shakes his head. “Her, the Nicnevin is a high queen, and I’m not surprised. The Folk are notoriously insular, and the affairs of Faerie matter little to outsiders.” He sighs. “But it’s irrelevant. I never plan to set foot in the Queendom again.”
“You’re no longer cursed,” I remind him. “You could go back. I’d visit with you if you wanted to go.”
His soft smile is sad. “It’s not possible. Cedwyn won’t be able to ignore the defeat of all of those assassins. I’m a strong contender to his throne. When his next envoys come, we’ll leave one alive as a messenger. I can’t lie, so Ced will know I mean it when I say I’ll never return. With luck, we’ll be left alone after that. My brother isn’t a fool. He won’t waste warriors when he doesn’t need to.”
“Won’t you miss it?”
“No… To tell the truth, I’ve been gone so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. And things will have changed since I left. It’s no longer my home.”
I know what he means, because I feel the same way about Coveton. I can’t claim to have forgotten the place—it’s not been long enough—but I know what it’s like to feel the definition of home change.
The two of us lapse into a comfortable silence. I stargaze as I relax into his comfortable embrace, and my thoughts inevitably begin to drift.
Whoever Kier was before his curse, he’s changed now. I can’t imagine he’ll ever be a chatterbox like Cas, and I wouldn’t want him to be. There’s something calming about his silence and stronger about his words for knowing that he only uses them when he needs to.
“You know,” I finally say. “I thought you were taking me somewhere because you wanted to mate me now that your curse was gone.”
His muscles tense beneath me, and I wonder if I’ve done the wrong thing by speaking my mind.
“I considered it,” he admits. “But I’m old. I know the value of things not rushed and… I want you to be certain of me. I’m in no hurry to make a witch angry with me for seducing her again after what happened last time.”
