Page 12 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
His voice was low and smooth, but she could sense the anxiety quivering through his fingers. He was soothing her with his touch, but also steadying himself. He took a handful of her silky dark hair and moved it aside, setting his lips to the nape of her neck, right over her spine. It was a spot she especially liked, and she felt an answering tingle low in her belly.
“Flay,” she whispered. “Remember we talked about timing, and the limits of public affection in front of the crew.”
“Sorry.” He let her hair fall back into place. “I just—Blossom, I—”
“I know.” She turned to face him, slipping her fingers between his. She could only do that with his right hand now, and a faint pang of loss pulsed in her heart.
“I should never have brought you with me. What if my father—” He broke off again, chewing his lip.
“You’ll explain things to him,” she said. “Like we talked about. The men all know what to say, and Jazadri will back you up. And you have the treasure to give your father. That should be more than enough to pacify him. He cares about profits, yes? So he will accept your tribute.”
“He also cares about reliability and punctuality and schedules,” muttered Flay, ducking his head to press a kiss to her mouth. “But you’re right, Blossom—we have a plan, and it can’t be enacted if we stand here kissing.” He took her mouth again, stroking his tongue between her lips. “You really should stop kissing me. So insatiable, you are.” Another kiss, melting into her laugh and his smile.
The tension in her body had eased a bit, and she could tell by Flay’s gusty sigh that he felt better too.
“Well then, gents!” He lifted his hand to the sky, Kestra’s fingers still entwined with his. “Let’s go ashore, shall we?”
“Thank the tide,” said Mai. “I thought you two were going to couple right here on deck.”
“Hush.” Kestra flushed, smirking.
“Amusing as that would be for everyone, we must put business before pleasure,” Flay said. “Baz, Corklan—you have Mai. You’ll take her for a tour of the Market District, steering clear of—you know where.” He lifted his eyebrows significantly and the two sailors nodded their assent. “Sparrow, here’s something to buy books with.” He reached into his pocket and extracted a small leather bag that chinked with coin. “Be back on theWind’s Favorat sunset, and we’ll either meet you there or send word where you should go for the night.”
“I thought I was coming with you, to see your father,” Mai protested. “Now you’re sending me off with these two?”
“Just until we know what’s what,” Flay said. “Think of it as a chance to explore freely, without Blossom and me dragging you down.” He raised his voice, addressing the crew. “The rest of you answer to Jaza. Unload the cargo and take it to my father’s warehouses. Graves, bring the ledgers and come along with me.”
The ship’s physik bowed slightly. He already had the leather-bound volumes clasped in his arms. Kestra didn’t like the man, not after the horrible things he’d said to Rake; but he gave good medical care to those aboard ship, and by Flay’s account he was a tremendously skilled mathematician. Still, she usually tried to avoid looking directly at him.
Kestra avoided her cousin’s eyes, too, knowing she’d see betrayal and frustration. Leaving Mai out of the confrontation with Flay’s father was the right choice, whether Mai could see it or not. It was for her protection.
Jazadri handed a satchel to Flay, and the two men exchanged a look Kestra couldn’t interpret. It made her uneasy, but she pushed the feeling aside and followed Flay across the gangplank onto the pier.
The walk down the pier seemed endless. Heat from the blue sky oppressed her shoulders, occasional eddies of wind tossed her unbound hair, and shouts rose from unfamiliar crews working along the weatherbeaten boardwalk. Sunlight glinted off the earrings and chains of the sailors, shone slick on their sweaty backs as they coiled rope, and gleamed on the black iron of the cleats where ships tied up.
At last she and Flay stepped off the pier onto the cobbled walk that ran the length of the sea-wall. It was more like an extended plaza, really—a broad sweep of foot-worn stones dotted with crates, carts, barrels and casks. The salt breeze on the pier yielded to a sharp smell of tar, rancid fish, and sun-baked metal, with a hint of piss. The last came from a sailor with a hairy belly who had opened his pants and was urinating into the bay from the top of the sea-wall. Kestra had become accustomed to the careless handling of bodily functions aboard ship, but for that disgusting sight to be her first memory of Stragnoag—she felt a sudden, illogical rage at the man.
But she quickly forgot her anger, caught up in the torrent of life swirling through the city. In Anchel, the pace of life was slow yet purposeful. In Stragnoag, everyone seemed to be very busy going somewhere as fast as possible. At first Kestra saw familiar clothing—simple shirts, tunics, and trousers, with the occasional swishing dress or flowing robe. But as she and Flay worked their way out of the shipyard area and into the market streets, she began to notice strange fashions. There were women wrapped in shawls made of fluttering ribbons, with top-hats pinned to elaborate coiffures. She also noticed several people in stiff dark robes that swept from one shoulder to the opposite hip, while cascades of ruffles poured from the other shoulder, across the chest and down the arm to the wrist. Several men wore high-waisted pants, with corsets cinched over bare torsos or crisp shirts.
She caught Flay’s eye and cocked an eyebrow.
“The corsets are a recent fashion.” Flay grimaced.
“Willyouhave to wear one?”
“Maybe. If there’s a party or a dinner I’m forced to attend.”
Kestra felt her heart kicking into a new speed.
Flay squinted at her. “That idea of me in a corset titillates you a bit, doesn’t it, Blossom?” he murmured, leaning in.
“No.” Kestra scoffed harshly, her cheeks heating. “Are we going to walk all the way to your father’s place?”
“We won’t be going up to the family home yet,” he said. “At this time of day, my father is likely in his offices near the ship-yard. We’ll go there, and I’ll deliver my report of the goods he can expect to be transferred from my hold to his coffers.”
Kestra hung close to his elbow as they wound their way through the crowd. She had never seen so many people at once, not even on a festival day in Anchel. Her nose was assaulted with the reek of runoff from the ditch beside the road, with the sting of body odor and a rancid hint of garbage.
When they passed a booth where fruits and flowers were sold, the sweet airy fragrance relieved her senses for a moment. Then came a perfumerie, where overwhelming clouds of rich scent flooded the street as customers breezed in and out.
