“It’s always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a dashing courtier.”
Sebastian preened under her regard while Bronn and Jagger glowered.
Casting a glance up at the sky, Ronan asked, “Looks like the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. Did we still want to make camp here and risk the return of the riders? Or shall we press on?”
Shadow whimpered softly, and he had to fight against the impulse to offer to carry her. He knew she must be exhausted, but she would be the last person to dare admit it. Shadow would never admit to anything she perceived as a weakness, nor would she allow him to offer his aid unless she was on the brink of collapse. Even then, it was more likely she’d keel over first.
“We should be safe enough here,” Calypso said, following Ronan’s line of sight. “The riders won’t risk flying in this downpour. They’ll have bunkered down for the night, so even if they are still on the island it’ll be morning before we need to worry about them.”
“Island?” Bast repeated. “This isn’t an island, captain.”
“How do you know?” Ronan asked.
“My captors flew along the mountain range to the coast, but never crossed over the water. I believe we’re on a peninsula known as Twilight Cove.”
“How do you know so much about this land?” Ronan asked.
“How do you not?”
“I’m not from around here.”
“Neither am I, and yet I made time to do my research.”
Ronan narrowed his eyes, wondering what would ever prompt the self-proclaimed playboy to do something as responsible as research.
Paying no attention to them, Bronn murmured to himself. “Twilight’s Cove... that sounds familiar. Why do I—of course,” he breathed, his eyes wide as they met his captain’s. “Smuggler’s Rock.”
“That’s not what I...” Bast deflated. “But then Smuggler’s Rock has a nice ring to it. Not as atmospheric as itsactualname, but who am I to judge?”
Bronn and the other pirates ignored Sebastian’s rant. They were too busy exchanging loaded glances.
“Do you think—”
“Could it be—”
“It’s possible,” Calypso said, answering her crewmembers’ half-voiced questions.
“Tiny would have recognized the markers.”
The captain nodded, her excitement palpable. “The crew could already be on their way there.”
“Where?” Ronan asked, tired of feeling like he was missing something.
“If we did land on Smuggler’s Rock, there’s a town of sorts along the northern beach.”
“No, there isn’t,” Bast insisted.
“It’s a well-kept secret, for a reason,” Caly said with an indulgent smile. “Our kind doesn’t exactly advertise its existence.”
“Smugglers always need a safe place to fence ill-gotten gains and—”
“Find a cure for all manner of appetites,” Bast interrupted Bronn, nodding along sagely. “Speak no more. When do we leave?”
“It could take days for us to get there. We should rest up tonight and make our way in the morning, assuming the storm has passed by then.”
With a plan in place and the hope of a friendly port in the not so distant future, sleep sounded like a fantastic idea. Jagger and Buttercup moved to the entrance of the cave, though no one seemed inclined to head too deep into its depths.
Bast clapped a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “I don’t know who I pleasured in a past life, but the stars must be shining on me now. I have never been so glad to see someone I had no intention of fucking in my life.”