Page 17 of Queen of Whispers and Mist

It was hard to tell where she was taking him. There was no wall on this side of the palace because the cliffs and sea made a natural boundary, which also meant there was nothing to run toward. But then the path curved around a hill, and understanding dawned as he spotted the ships bobbing in the distance. This was a shortcut to the harbor.

Thankfully it wasn’t long before a voice shouted out from the night. “’Bout fuckin’ time. You think I enjoy standing out here with my tits flapping in the breeze?”

Ronan would recognize the foul-mouthed fishwife anywhere.

Glinta recognized him the same moment he did her. Her eyes widened, and she flashed him a familiar teasing grin. “Oi, if I’d known it was your sweet arse I was waiting on, I wouldn’t have bothered putting my neck on the line.”

“Glinta,” Camille chided softly as they came to a stop between a large trawler and a sloop.

“Wot? The lad was feather-headed enough to go piss on someone else’s pole. Ain’t my problem he landed in a world of shit in the process.”

“Glinta... we already discussed this. The passage has been paid. Stop teasing him.”

“Passage?” Ronan asked.

“Aye. A one-way trip for two down to the Sea of Souls.” Glinta’s voice dropped as though telling a campfire tale. “Not exactly a honeymoon, issit? But then, I doubt ye’ll make it that far. What with the Dweller and all.”

“Dweller?” Ronan repeated.

Glinta squinted at him. “Something wrong with your tongue, boy? I remember you knowing a fair amount of right pretty words last we talked.”

“It’s been a long night.”

She nodded slowly. “So it has. Well, it’s a mite taboo to speak on it afore setting off on a voyage, but then I’m staying safe on land, aren’t I?”

Ronan barely resisted rolling his eyes. He’d manned enough ships to be familiar with seafolk’s superstitious ways. Though, he’d yet to see any of their silly practices make a damned bit of difference. “What dweller, Glinta?” he asked, impatience slipping into his tone.

“Of the deep, o’course. Most foul monster you ever did see. Or didn’t see, until it’s too late.” She cackled gleefully. “You’ll know when he’s near. Nothing but a floating graveyard for miles around and the whispers of the dead drifting through a sea of mist.”

“I’ll make sure to keep an eye out.”

She scowled at the derision in his tone. “Fine, don’t believe me. What’s it to old Glinta? I’ve got my starlings. You’re the one who’ll find himself a watery grave soon enough.” With that happy thought she spun on her heel and stormed up the gangway to the left, boarding the sloop.

“You sure we can trust her?” Ronan asked Camille.

“Don’t let the old dame’s bark fool you. She’s one of your biggest supporters, has been since day one. She wouldn’t risk her name buying you passage otherwise. The crew of theRevengemakes this trek often, following the eastern coast down and back as they make their... trades.”

The careful way she uttered the word told him everything he needed to know. This wasn’t the kind of trading that included a detailed ship manifest. These were smugglers, if not out-and-out pirates. Not that he was complaining. Who better to help him make a grand escape than a bunch of thieves and scallywags?

Ah, Glinta, you cantankerous old bird. What other secrets do you have?

Knowing he may never learn the answer to that question, Ronan shook his head as he started after her, already anticipating the steady rock of the ship to lull him into a deep and dreamless sleep. He didn’t care if his bed was a pile of wooden crates; he’d give anything to be off his feet for a while.

He didn’t realize Camille hadn’t moved until her voice called out after him. “Bon voyage, Ronan. This is where I leave you.”

The thought of saying goodbye to another unexpected friend so soon after Bast was bittersweet. He never would have made it this far without Camille’s help. “Thank you,” he said, knowing it was nowhere near enough after all she’d risked for him, but meaning it down to the very depths of his soul.

She gestured toward the moon. “Never forget who watches over you. She will see you safely home. Wherever that might be.”

Before he could say anything else, Camille disappeared into the night. Ronan took a deep breath of the brine-tinged air, already turning around when Glinta whisper-shouted down to him.

“Well, you festering boil, hurry up, or I’ll push you overboard myself.”

“That seems rather counterproductive after all you did to get me onboard.”

“Not to me. Way I see it, it’s the least ye deserve for making me wait on you all blasted night.”

Ronan joined her on the deck. “Next time, you scale the castle wall, and I’ll wait by the ship.”

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