Page 40 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

The man is younger than I first thought—late in his third decade, perhaps early in his fourth.

“We need to travel to Ferradelle,” Lawrence says. “I’ll give you two hundred cartos if you’ll take us.”

The man narrows his eyes as he slowly passes his gaze along our group. “What business do you have in Ferradelle?”

Lawrence jerks his head toward Ayan. “His mother’s sick.”

Without missing a beat, Ayan solemnly adds, “Dreadfully ill. Might be the last chance I get to see her before…” He pauses as if choked up, and then he puts on a brave face. “We need to leave tonight.”

The captain’s mouth scrunches to the side with suspicion. “It takes four humans and a Woodmore to escort you home? There are passenger ships that take your people back and forth.”

“But most don’t take humans, and these dear souls are my support system.”

He and Lawrence exchange a look of solidarity, making it appear as if their friendship was initiated on the battlefield in the midst of brutal war, when in truth, the pair bonded over ale and numerous rejections only the night before.

“You expect him to travel alone in his state of distress?” Clover questions, looking appalled. “Surely you’re not so cruel.”

The captain’s gaze pauses on the pretty lady-in-waiting, and his smile becomes a little loopy. He twists his hat in his hands. “You’d be traveling with them as well?”

Clover looks as if she believes the question is a stupid one. Why else would she be standing with our group? “I will be, yes.”

His smile grows, and he looks down, suddenly shy. “I’m not sure my humble ship is suitable for a lovely noblewoman like yourself.”

Clover turns her head, studying the vessel with an impassive expression. All the boat’s recent repairs were crudely conducted. The ship looks like it’s held together with rusting wire, rope, and optimism.

When Clover turns back, she says, “It looks fine to me. What’s wrong with it?”

The captain's face flushes. “N…nothing, my lady. It’s a good ship, just a little rough around the edges. It’s got good bones.”

As if sensing my doubt, the captain’s eyes travel to me…and then they move to the pennant and gold medallion on my arm. He gulps and then looks up, now wary. Apparently, he was too groggy to notice me when we first woke him.

Slowly, as if he thinks I might not notice the sheen of fear that beads on his brow, he turns back to Lawrence. “Though I’d like to help you, Ferradelle has strict visitation policies, and I don’t have the proper paperwork to dock at their port.”

“Five hundred,” Lawrence says.

The captain’s eyes darken with greed. “Five…fivehundred?”

Lawrence nods.

“We’re talking cartos, right?”

Lawrence crosses his arms and nods again.

The man looks down, twisting the fabric of his hat tighter as he thinks.

“If you take us, I won’t report you for smuggling,” I say dryly.

Horrified, the captain’s eyes fly to my face. “Smuggling, commander? What…what avileaccusation. I assure you, I’m an upright citizen of the kingdom and would never—”

“Shall I call in the local guard to search your ship then?”

He flushes, and sweat rolls down his temple. “Now, let’s just calm down. I don’t think that’s necessary…”

Ready to make good on my threat, I say to the group, “Let’s go.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” the captain exclaims, inadvertently glancing at several crates down the deck—likely the goods he doesn’t want us to find.

“No?” I begin to walk toward the questionable cargo.

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