Chris A Jackson [Scimitar Sea Scimitar's Heir (retail) (epub)

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.His hand slipped from the door handle, rage subdued by this more pressing threat.“How many, and how far?”“A whole damn fleet, Captain.More’n a dozen.” Kori’s eyes were wide, his breath coming in gasps.“I could just see ‘em with a glass from the mountaintop, sir.They’re still far enough that they can’t see us yet.We got maybe an hour ‘til they sight our tops’ls, another hour ‘til they’re here.”“By the hells!” Parek glared at the door and considered his prize behind it; a rare beauty, to be sure, but not worth risking capture.He shook his head.“No time, my dear,” he whispered, leaning close to the door.“No time to break down this door and give you what you deserve for lying to me, but I’ll thank you for the treasure, and leave you with a parting gift.”Parek threw down the bar, flipped the hasp closed and picked up the lock.The key was still in it.He put the lock through the hasp and closed it with a click, then pocketed the key.“Have fun in the dark, my sweet Camilla.” He rapped on the door with his knuckles, then turned away, grinning with the memory of their brief but rewarding time together.He’d never had a woman quite like her, and likely never would again, even with a king’s fortune at his disposal.But he’d take what he could get; if gold couldn’t buy quality, it could certainly buy quantity.“To the Cutthroat!” he ordered, and strode toward the doorway.“We’ve got to get around the southern point and up the windward side of the island before they spot our sails, or we’re done for, lads! We’ll never outrun ‘em, laden like we are.Make sail, and don’t spare the canvas!”Parek followed his men and leapt aboard Cutthroat.The ship, her foresail already aloft and billowing in the breeze, strained at the dock lines, and Parek ordered them cut.They made for the channel, piling on more canvas, and left the smoldering ruins of Scimitar Bay behind.Captain Parek glanced back once, and tipped his hat to the lady he had left in the dark.≈Cynthia leaned against the foremast, staring into the distance through slitted eyes that saw nothing.Though her eyes were unfocused, the rest of her senses were keenly attuned: she felt the water around the ship as if it bathed her own skin, sensed the winds as if they were her own breath.She pushed the slick of seaweed away from the bow to ease their passage and urged the winds to fill the sails, propelling the ships ever forward.She felt the solidity of the mast against her stiff back, grateful for its sturdy support; she doubted she had the strength to stay upright without it.Beyond exhaustion, she kept herself going with blackbrew and sheer stubbornness, refusing to relent, refusing to sleep.Feldrin thought her determination was spurred only by love for their child and her resolve to get him back.To a certain degree that was true, but Cynthia knew that something darker drove her: guilt.This was all her fault.She had overlooked the true nature of the mer, had not seen Eelback’s subtle manipulation.She had never dreamed any mer would do what he had done: call the mer to war, sacrifice so many lives, lure her into a confrontation that she had promised them she would not back down from, all just to steal her child.She had let herself be blinded by the dream of peace, but the dream had ended up a nightmare that she relived every time she closed her eyes.Behind her lids loomed no sweet unconsciousness, but images of a blood-choked sea, slaughtered men, dying mer, the war she had vowed to prevent, and an innocent child in the cold clutches of traitors.So many lives had been sacrificed because of her own failure.She felt the wind falter as she brooded on these thoughts, so she pushed them away and concentrated on her tasks.There was naught else she could do.She ignored the torrid heat, the sweat trickling down her ribs, the dull ache behind her eyes…there was only the wind, the sea, and the ships.An earsplitting screech snapped her from her half-trance [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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