Page 32 of Queen of Whispers and Mist

She shot him a wary glance. Why did she get the feeling the man was privy to far too many of her secrets? The possibility of it made her feel defensive, so she snapped back, “Since when is it a crime to appreciate culture?”

“It isn’t,” Tiny assured her.

“Shanties we can do,” Bronn added, “but I’m going to have to insist you join in.”

“Oh no, I don’t sing,” she protested with a laugh. “Not unless you want tales to spread over both land and sea of how the crew of theRevengemurders cats.”

“She’s not joking. I had the rare honor of hearing her in the shower once. I damn near beat the door down thinking she was under attack, only to realize she was alone. Tone-deaf as they come and butchering a poor helpless song as if she intended to have it for supper.”

Everyone laughed, though it was Ronan’s deep chuckle that made her cheeks warm and her lips pull into a frown.When had he caught her in the shower... and what had he seen?

Bronn patted her shoulder, and there was no missing Ronan’s scowl when the quartermaster didn’t immediately remove his hand. “Nonsense. Everyone can carry a shanty. It’s part of the charm. You’ll see.”

“Aye, we’ll make a night of it,” Calypso agreed.

“I’ll let Cookie know,” Tiny said, holding out the captain’s chair as she stood.

“Cookie?”

“Cooking is his passion, but music is his true gift,” Calypso explained. “He has siren blood in him, that one. I’m sure of it.”

“Many say the same of you,” Bronn murmured, his eyes warming as they fell to—and lingered on—his captain.

Calypso ducked her head and tucked some hair behind her ear in a rare display of shyness. “Aye, well. Most people are ignorant fools, aren’t they?”

“Ready?” Ronan asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.”

He moved to stand beside her, resting his large palm on the base of her spine. Heat shot through her at the contact, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. Laughter danced in his eyes, but his voice revealed none of it as he turned toward the captain. “Thank you for the meal, and the company,” he added with a polite nod.

Calypso waved a hand. “Please, you did us the honor.”

Shadow opened her mouth to protest, but Tiny interjected before she could. “It’s easy to grow weary of the same old stories when we’ve got only each other to tell them to. You’ve breathed new life into our tired tales, and onto our ship. You have our deepest thanks for that.” He dipped into a courtly bow only a touch less formal than the one he’d given her that morning.

“I’m familiar with the phenomenon,” Ronan said dryly, steering her toward the door. “There were many a night mycil’virgaand I experienced the same. Though we were more liable to punch each other in the throat rather than suffer through a story we’d heard countless times before.”

While the others snickered in understanding, Shadow’s body tensed and her smile turned wooden. She’d never heard the term before, she’d swear to it, but as soon as it left Ronan’s lips, her mind was filled with the image of a group of elite soldiers. How could she knowthatwhen she remembered next to nothing else?

Ronan shot her a questioning glance, and she shook her head. Even if she was of a mind to explain, how could she? Her frequent loss of memory was her burden to bear, not to mention a weakness she had no intention of allowing anyone—let alone virtual strangers—to exploit. She’d made it this far on her own, without someone becoming the wiser. She wasn’t about to change tactics now, especially not when she was so far out of her depth.

They left the captain’s quarters to a chorus of well wishes for a night filled with restful sleep, but Shadow knew that wasn’t in the cards for her. Between Jagger’s haunting warning and her own agitated thoughts, rest would be a long way off.

That, along with the near-constant buzz of awareness coursing through her due to the man currently prowling down the hallway on her heels, had her walking a razor’s edge.

“A ship this size, and you couldn’t manage to find your own accommodations? I’m sure there are a couple of rats that would welcome you into their hidey hole,” she snapped when he moved to follow her inside the small cabin.

“What’s the matter, kitten? You afraid of a snuggle?” He dropped his voice and leaned in closer, crowding her with his body and the scent of campfire and leather she’d come to associate with him. “Or are you afraid of how much you’d enjoy it?”

She threw him what she hoped was a believable glare, hoping he would misread the flutter of her pulse at her throat as anger instead of interest. “Not remotely, because if you’re going to insist on sharing a room—”

“How else can I keep you safe?”

“—thenyouare sleeping on the floor.”

“The hell I am.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

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