Page 13 of The Ocean's Heart
“It is,” I confirm.
“I understand that there are those that might break the rules and risk the wrath of the tides, but there was a robed man with the marauders. One who, I believe, was able tocommandthe storm.”
My suspicions are correct, then. “You were attacked by the Obsidian Pearl. They are sea folk who worship the abyss and the creatures who they, misguidedly, believe reside within. The Obsidian Pearl will do anything to prevent my kingdom regaining its fertility. Less of us mean more power to their efforts, which have been growing the past century. They came for you, and I believe they thought you dead. But they know better now.” I point to the skies. “The rapidly approaching storm is coming for you again.”
I expect her to pale, but instead she clenches her jaw, eyes flashing with a defiance that speaks to my soul.
“Let them come,” she practically growls, her hand going to the hilt of the sword at her waist.
I arch a brow. “You would fight?”
She blinks and drops her gaze. “If I must.”
“I was told the princess wielded a paintbrush, not a sword.”
She smiles thinly. “I can do both. I trained a little with the guard. I’m no swordsmith, but I can defend myself if needs be.”
“As you did on the ship. Prudent of your father to permit your training.”
Something passes across her face, an emotion I cannot define, but there is an edge of defiance to it that gives me pause. There are depths to this female, ones which are not for me to explore. And why does that knowledge leave me hollow?
“Sire, if you are to leave then it must be now.” Petyre reminds me.
“Yes, come, Princess.” I gently grip her elbow and guide her toward the stern.
“Where are we going?”
“To the rowboat and under cover of the natural storm that rages to the west. It will shield us from the Obsidian Pearl’s airborne spies. I will explain more once we disembark on the Cursed Isle.”
“Cursed? Why do I get the impression it is not a friendly place?”
The fact that she can employ a little humor at such a dire time once again speaks to my soul, for isn’t it what a good commander is able to do? Lift morale in dire circumstances.
“I will allow no harm to come to you.” It is a promise that I do not give lightly.
“Nor I to you,” she says.
It is not the response I expect, and when I look down at her, there is fire in her eyes.
For the first time in forever, I’m intrigued.
ChapterEight
THALIA
The bastards who caused Bryony’s death now had a name. But how could I avenge her if their home was beneath the waves? As King Vaarin helped me into the rowboat, I couldn’t help but wish that I could stay and face them here on the deck of this ship.
But I couldn’t let my need for vengeance cause the death of my people. The alliance had to come first, and my being alive was essential to that happening.
So I climbed into the boat and took my place on the bench as King Vaarin rowed us into the western storm.
The boat rose and fell on the tumultuous waves, water sloshing on board. I clung to the sides, crouched against the assault of icy sea spray.
King Vaarin grabbed hold of me and dragged me toward him so I was sitting between his thighs. “Hold on to me,” he ordered, his voice rising above the symphony of screaming wind and howling sea.
I crouched low, wrapping myself around his leg so tightly that the flex and release of his muscles joined the beat of my heart.
He rowed with powerful strokes, his biceps bulging, form stoic and unyielding against the shattering elements. His dark hair whipped about his face, sapphire eyes blazing in the gloom.
