Page 35 of Pregnant With Their Babes

“The witch told us to.”

“That alone would be enough for me to rethink bringing him at all.” Dagr leaned on the railing, his gaze once again falling on Llyr’s head.

“It would’ve been hard for Llyr to leave the ship last night without being seen. I checked with the men—they saw nothing.”

“That is no proof. The men often drink too much to pay as close attention as they should.”

Oz clicked his tongue. “There you are. Always with a denial.”

“I only wish to be logical about the very illogical situation we now find ourselves in.”

“Where does our instinct come into play?” Oz asked.

“Ihavebeen listening to my instincts. They tell me to be wary.”

Oz chuckled. “And the instinct? In regards to getting him under you? What about that one?”

Dagr sighed versus answering Oz’s too difficult question.

Oz didn’t demand an answer. He stood there silently a few seconds before asking, “Do you wish to send him on his way? Honestly?”

Dagr hesitated to answer that. “Regardless of what we feel, he’sstilldangerous in my mind. We have no idea what his motives are. What we feel, no matter how natural it seems—it’s not. Itcan’tbe.”

“You were adamant the witch would free us of our concerns—yet you now refuse to believe her. She said there was no spell bewitching us. She confirmed Llyr was telling the truth. Yet you deny what she told us.”

“Because it’simpossible, Oz. We’re supposed to put all our faith into the words of a witch and a potential lunatic?”

Oz cocked his head to the side. “You assumed we would go to the witch and she would confirm what you already believed. Because that was the only option for you. When she said the opposite of what you desired, you called her a liar. For a man who holds himself in such strict control, that’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

Dagr sighed and lowered his head. He gripped the railing, his knuckles going pale. “How can we believe such fantasy? Mermen. Monstrous armies. Seahorse nannies namedPrawnsby. A whole other realm under the waves. It’s all utter nonsense.”

“Or maybe it’s not,” Oz said.

“Please tell me he hasn’t convinced you of this madness!”

“Convinced? No. Buthebelieves it.” Oz leaned onto the railing beside Dagr and captured his stare. “My gut tells me he’s not lying. Could his story be madness? Absolutely—but in his heart, he does not lie. There’s only a few days before we reach home and our world shatters. Maybe we need a little of his fantasy before we’re plunged into hell.”

“And end up going insane along with him?”

“When I was young, I remember my grandfather telling tales of his youth. When witches were thought to be a myth. Then suddenly one saves the whole realm and they’re shown to be real. It changes everything we thought we understood.”

“Seeing is believing,” Dagr murmured.

“Then reserve your judgment for however many days Llyr claims he has left. If he doesn’t sprout a tail and fins when he says he will, then you can decide what you believe and what you don’t. Until then… can you not find a little part of yourself thatcanbelieve?”

Llyr lifted his gaze and smiled at Dagr in that moment. He offered a wave, his coppery tresses blowing around him in the breeze. The man was stunning… his smile so warm and free from guile. Dagr’s heart clenched, and waves of lust crashed into him unchecked. The voices in his head told him this man was theirs. That Llyr belonged to them. How that was possible, he could not fathom—but he was growing exhausted fighting the temptation.

A thought popped into his mind, and he cocked his head and captured Oz’s attention. He had to know before they went any further with Oz’s outrageous idea. “Exactly what did the witch whisper to you. What got yousoupset?”

Oz sighed and rose to his full height. He searched the horizon, his expression distant. “She spoke of something my mother told me long ago.”

“Something that someone in the castle could have overheard.”

“It was seconds before she died,” Oz said, his stare growing distant. “We wereutterlyalone.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve never felt so alone before… or since.”

Dagr gasped inwardly. He searched his mind, trying to remember the story of Oz’s mother’s death. Dagr had been young, too young to pay much care to the gossip—and after, he’d never pushed, wanting to spare Oz more pain. As far as he recalled, bandits had shot the guards and his mother before taking all their valuables—leaving Oz the only one alive. Barely.

They’d shot him before leaving, but he’d survived.

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