Page 60 of Unrivaled
Elnyta snorted.“Those boys?Think any half-wild, all-scared kid is going to go with them?”
“I can’t ask you to go back.There’s no coin in it.”
“Too important to go yourself, princess?”they asked, their tone conversational as they went behind the bar.
I followed along.Out of the pool of light I could see where the slivers of daylight shone through the shutters and around poorly fitted doors, but the shadows were deep.
“Right now, I think I might be.”It was a strange thought, and not one that sat comfortably.
They made a thoughtful noise.Bottles chimed.“You thought you could get someone else earlier.And asked if we’d do it.”
“That was earlier.”I hadn’t been thinking.I couldn’t afford to pay for empty vessels to rescue children.
I hated it.But I also had children in this city whose futures were uncertain.
“I’m grateful for the wheat,” I told Elnyta.
They made a happy noise and straightened, stoppered jug in their hand.The cups they found were of the same make as the jug.The siren on their hand gleamed as they upturned two.“So, if I brought you a half-dozen children, or some refugees from the plague,” they said, conversationally, “You’d feed them, house them, keep them away from the watch and the mills?”
“I can’t pay you.”
“Bet you can,” they said, pouring us both a cup.“If it was a higher priority.”
I blew out the breath caught in my lungs.“You’re right.”I hated it, but it was true.
They shrugged, nudging the cup toward me.“Well, I’m doing another run along the coastline, anyway.Got a noble lady who wants information and grains.”
“And fruit,” I reminded them.I’d written it down.They’d tucked it into their belt.Were they pretending to have forgotten?
“And fruit,” Elnyta said, a smile tugging at their mouth.I was being teased.In the low light, the ink stained on the skin of their neck and cheekbones merged with the shadows, making patterns over their features that danced.I wondered how warm their skin would be, and whether they’d taste like salt.“If I find any folks who want to journey to La’Angi, now I know they’ll have somewhere to go.”
I took the cup.It was cheap cider, but it had more class than I did just then, in an abandoned inn that stank of piss, trying to exploit a generous captain to assist children I didn’t have a budget to transport.“I’d be grateful.”
“Mm.Say that again, princess.”They placed one hand on the bar, the corner of their mouth kicked up and the shadows in their hazel eyes full of promise.
There was a heavy beat in my veins that I hadn’t felt in over a moon.I took a sip of the cider.It had almost as much vinegar as Isolde.I shook my head, setting it down, and Elnyta laughed at my reaction.
Mayhap I was used to finer things, but I didn’t plan to change my waysthatmuch.
I wore their laughter but rejected the kick of anxiety that tried to cling to me as I came around the bar.Their smile stayed tucked up in the corner of their full lips, the mirth sparkling in their eyes, as I moved into their space.I didn’t stop until they had to tilt their head a little to look up at me.Their smile deepened.
“I’d be grateful,” I told them, keeping my words quiet.
“The gratitude of the duchess-to-be,” Elnyta breathed in admiration.“That’s probably worth coin to some folks.”
“What’s it worth to you?”I asked them, genuinely curious.
“An excuse to see you again,” they told me, shamelessly.
Outside, the crew was still working noisily.Inside, in our own little shadowy pocket, we had all the time in the world.I reached out, ignoring the urge to hide, and touched my thumb to the corner of their lips.
The softness only met my skin for a moment before they’d turned their head and sent heat rushing through me, taking the tip of my thumb into their mouth and sucking firmly.
“Our agreements are complex,” I told them.Somehow my voice still worked.“I’ll need to see you every time you’re in port, Captain.”
“Shame things can’t be simpler,” they agreed, hand going to my waist.“Imagine how much time we could save.”
“Commercial licensing is an important topic,” I disagreed, encouraging them closer, eager to feel the softness, the resilience, of their body.“It deserves time.”
