Page 76 of Fearless

I picture this version of us, far in a future that will never come to pass. A happy ending in which I lie on Paedyn’s lap, listening to her read until the day I fade into a distant memory.

But that is nothing more than a silly story of my making.

So I revel in the present, in the moments where we hide from the inevitable. She reads until the sun tires and dips beneath the waves. Until darkness drapes the room and smothers each word on the page.

Paedyn quiets, brushing a strand of hair from my brow. At the sound of her book snapping shut, I lift my gaze to her shadowed one above me. “Do you—?”

Muffled stomping from beyond the door has me swiftly sitting up. Glancing at each other, we strain to hear the commotion coming from the main deck. Clapping follows the pounding of boots, creating a symphony of chaos.

“Is that…?” Paedyn quiets at the growing sound of music.

“That,” I say, grinning into the darkness, “is the sound of a poorly played fiddle.”

I don’t give her a chance to reply before I’m pulling her off the bed. Sputtering, she manages, “What are you doing?”

I turn to face her, lifting the hand that isn’t wearing my brother’s ring. My lips find the pad of her thumb. She sucks in a breath at the intimacy of it, at the meaning buried beneath. “My pretty Pae, would you like to dance?”

Her smile seems to brighten the darkness. “I would never pass up the chance to stomp on your toes, Malakai.”

I tug her close, hold her tight. She knows exactly what she’s doing. My name means nothing to me until she speaks it. Nothing until she claims it as her own.

I kiss it off her lips, taste the very power she holds over me. My hand cups the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her short hair. She’s clutching my shirt and pulling me against her—

Another chorus of stomps has us breaking apart and breathing heavy. Paedyn laughs in that intoxicating way that makes me want to pull her mouth back to mine. But she’s grabbing my hand and swinging the door open before I get the chance. I’m being tugged out into the hall and toward the double doors ahead. With a quick smile over her shoulder, she drops my hand and pushes them open.

The deck sprawls before us, bathed in moonlight. Men and women of all ages dance in time to the fiddle’s melody, linking arms to spin around the wood. The crew claps and stomps and crudely sings along to a song that belongs out at sea.

Paedyn steps forward, seeming unsure even as she smiles at the scene. Spotting us from the makeshift circle of bellowing men, Leon strides over, looking less stoic than he had this morning, though the bottle of rum in his hand is likely to thank for that.

As way of greeting, he answers the questioning look Paedyn wears. “The crew always celebrates a tame day at sea. Today has been especially smooth sailing considering the Shallows’ reputation.”

The ship rocks slightly in agreement, its hull cutting easily through lazy waves. Leon nods to the rowdy group. “You’re welcome to join. Have some rum. Dance. Oh, and Sam’s fiddle is out of tune, but believe me, it’s been worse.”

I offer an arm to Paedyn. “Should I hold your shoes now, or wait for you to lose them?”

“Maybe I’ll just throw them at you.” She smiles sweetly. “So you can find them easier.”

My gaze lazily explores her face. “Vicious little thing.”

When we step into the circle, Paedyn wastes no time before clapping to the beat. I watch her smile at the dancing before us, but more importantly, I watch those eying her closely. Some scowl at her presence while others barely notice the future queen among them. And before I’m dragged into a dance, I memorize the faces of those glaring men.

Paedyn hooks her arm through mine before we are stepping in a circle. She laughs, picking up our pace and flipping around to take my other arm. We do this until I’m out of breath, until my mouth hurts from smiling at her.

Rum is passed between us, as are the dance partners we link elbowswith. The fiddle’s quick melodies have us stomping long into the night, clapping when our feet get sore. Before long, Paedyn is swaying beside a sailor, singing a ballad to the sea crashing around us.

I do this for her. Every dance. Every smile. She seems so much more alive away from Ilya, away from the reminder of everything she is not. But out here, even surrounded by Elites, we are all at the mercy of the sea. I think she finds comfort in that.

So I spin her in the moonlight. Smile when she laughs at my expense. And let her step on my toes.

Edric

There is little that King Edric, ruler of the first Elite kingdom, fears.

But this child is a tangible nightmare in his arms.

“You are wrong.”

Those are the first words out of Edric’s mouth, aimed sharply at his Silencer. Damion has curtly handed the king his daughter before stepping away, now holding tightly to that stoic expression plastered on his features. There is a slow shake of his head, the action regretful. “I can silence no power from her, Your Majesty. I could be mistaken, but…”

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