Page 49 of Queen of Whispers and Mist

It wasn’t just that, though. This was Ronan. Talking with him had always felt natural. Granted, they were usually trading insults, but there had been an ease to it. As if they’d done the same countless times before and took comfort in the ritual. Why, then, did every interaction with him suddenly feel so complicated to navigate? Ever since he’d held her while she wept, every word felt as if it conveyed a dozen potential meanings. It likely didn’t help that she’d come to with his lips pressed to hers and instinctively reacted by pulling him closer and kissing him back. That was sure to send some mixed messages.

Another soft sigh slipped out. She was woefully out of her depth. How was she supposed to do...this?

And yes, she was well aware not knowing whatthiswas, was another issue entirely.

“We’re going to be okay,” he said softly, likely misinterpreting her anxiety as a response to being shipwrecked rather than over him. Which, for a normal person, would have been an appropriate assumption. Still, his reassurance was welcome.

Not ready to give herself away, she kept her eyes trained on her boots and nodded. “I know.”

“Cave’s just over there. Behind the rocks,” Jagger called.

“See,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder.

They picked up their pace, rushing to join the others at the cave’s opening.

Calypso pointed out a series of symbols along the wall. “These tell fellow smugglers what to expect inside.” She gestured first to a rudimentary sketch of a tree. “Firewood.” Then to four wavy lines. “Drinking water.” Some kind of bottle. “Rum.”

“All the necessities,” Bronn said with a wide grin, clapping his hands together and rubbing them eagerly. “Let’s get settled, shall we?”

Time moved quickly after that, their small group splitting up tasks to ensure they were set for the evening. Ronan was in charge of the fire, which was cheating in her opinion because it required zero effort on his part. Calypso and Bronn were sorting through a stack of crates, looking for anything they could use. Already they’d found a couple of blankets, some salt pork and hardtack that seemed edible, and the rum Bronn had been so excited about. She’d been tasked with bottling up drinking water from the little stream trickling along the back of the cave while Jagger checked the nearby offshoots to make sure they wouldn’t be happened upon by any cave-dwelling creatures in their sleep.

By the time Jagger and Buttercup returned, they were settled around the fire, food warm and rum flowing.

“Anything to worry about?” Calypso asked.

“Storm’s coming,” he grunted with a deep frown.

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got cover,” Shadow said, just able to make out the soft trickle of rain over the crackle of the flames.

But Jagger shook his head. “Stream’s already rising.”

The way the pirates were exchanging looks had Shadow shifting uncomfortably on her makeshift driftwood seat. “You don’t think the cave is going to flood, do you?”

“It’s a possibility,” Caly said, worrying her bottom lip. “It might be wise to head for higher ground. Just in case.”

“Last thing we want is to be caught unaware in our sleep,” Ronan agreed.

Exhausted from the day’s event, Shadow rebelled against the idea of having to leave the warmth and safety of the cave. They’d been lucky enough to find everything they could need. What were the odds they’d be so lucky a second time?

“Quick, eat up and then pack whatever you can carry,” Ronan said, taking charge. “If the cave does flood, it might be a few days before we can get back in here. And if we’re going to go, we should do it before we lose all sunlight.”

The relaxed atmosphere of moments before was gone. Their movements were hurried and fraught with tension.

The blankets were turned into knapsacks and loaded up with cans of food, the bottles of water, some flares, first aid supplies, and of course, rum. The men split the sacks between them, leaving Calypso and Shadow to hold pieces of driftwood they could use as torches as they headed back out into the twilight.

“Ready?” Caly asked, looking around.

“Lead the way, captain,” Bronn said.

They left the cave single file, the rainfall far worse than it had been even minutes prior. Shadow was drenched in a matter of seconds, the trees doing little to act as a barrier to the sheets of rain falling from the sky. If not for Ronan’s magic protecting the flames, their torches would have instantly died.

Jagger hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called for a storm. The rain came down at a diagonal, lashing them across the face and making it impossible to see more than an inch or two in front of their faces. If not for Ronan’s hand firmly in hers, she might not have made it up the curving path from the jungle to the northern cliffs.

She was still wiping rain from her eyes as they finally crested the top of the path, teeth chattering from the combination of rain and wind.

“Looks like there’s another cave ahead,” Bronn called. “We should be able to make camp there for the night.”

“Thank fuck,” Ronan said, giving her hand a squeeze as he helped her climb up and over a waist-high boulder.

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