Chapter Seventeen

Wind rustled my hair from where I sat perched on the rail near the stern of the ship, watching sailors emerge from the lower decks. It was starting to make me suspicious how much Vane, Barthe, and some of the council’s soldiers were holed up whispering.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” I turned to Beaurick Smithy, one of Dorian’s friends.

“I don’t know,” he said in a hushed voice, the tattoo of an arrow on his arm catching my eye. “But I tell you it was strange when we were ambushed by trolls near the human world.”

“Why do you say that?” My skin prickled.

“Because they went straight for Dorian. Here they had heirs of the council but didn’t touch any of them. And once the trolls forced Dorian over the border, the humans were on him. Like it’d been planned all along. I mean, the trolls and humans lying in wait. The man—Frederik, he was called—said he was letting us go to relay a message—”

My throat thickened. “Did no one try to save him?”

Beaurick peered down at me, the scar on his face from the last Mission still fresh. “Yes. Perci, Cray, and I started after them, but the others ran, saying we couldn’t all get captured or no one would know what’d happened.” His voice broke. “We were outnumbered and eventually had no choice but to retreat.”

My fingers dug into the side of the boat. “Let me guess. It was Vane’s idea to bolt.”

“Yes. He’s a cowardly arse. All the Girts and Dundrys are. Hag, Ivy, you don’t know how hard it was to leave Dorian behind. Twice, Perci and I attempted to turn back for him, but Honour met up with us and said we’d need reinforcements, that we couldn’t do it on our own.”

My stomach clenched with nausea. “Did you guys ever recover the Hag’s Crest when you were on the Mission?”

He nodded. “Yes, but that was lost, too. Dorian had it on him the night he was captured.”

Well, that was strange, seeing as how it was now on Honour’s boat. So how did it get there? “But if he had it on him, then why was it in the ransom demand? Is there any chance that Vane or Barthe might’ve taken it from him?”

He snorted. “I’m not sure, but at this point nothing would surprise me.”

I patted his arm. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get Dorian back.”

“I hope so—if anyone can pull it off, it’s you, Ivy Archer.” He gave me a small wave, then moved to go sit by Percivious Blackiron, “Perci” for short.

A moment later, I caught sight of Pudge’s familiar form coming toward me. His color was back to normal and his breeches loose-fitting. His dark hair was a bit disheveled.

“Hi.” I smiled. “You look like you feel better.”

He patted my back, leaning against the railing next to me. “Much better. Can’t believe I’ve spent the last two weeks in bed. Even the bones didn’t predict that.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s because the bones don’t know squat about the future.”

Pudge raised a finger to his lips. “Shh…don’t let them hear you say that. You’ll curse us. They predicted your bad luck times three, after all.”

Not wanting to argue, I moved to sit down on a barrel. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Nah, I had a chunk of bread before I came up.”

Honour moved across the deck toward us. “Well, I see the weak stomach has loosened its reins on you. Should I have a bucket ready, just in case?” He grinned, socking Pudge in the shoulder.

“Only if you’re going to use it to piss in,” Pudge said in a cold voice.

Honour frowned. “Glad to see you’re in a great mood.”

I shot Honour a look, hoping he’d remember the conversation we had about laying off his brother.

He caught my eye and smiled. “Sorry. It’s good to have you up and around again. At least Ivy will have someone to pass the nights with now.”

“And here I thought you would’ve kept her company,” Pudge said.

“I spent most of my spare time practicing swords with Thezriel and avoiding Vane at all costs.”

Honour glanced between us. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. I’ve got to check the charts one more time.”

When he was out of earshot, Pudge sat down next to me, staring at his feet. “So, did you spend a lot of time with Honour?”

I laughed. “No. We ate a couple of meals together, and we talked some.”

Pudge smiled. “Good. Not that I don’t like my brother, but I worry about his intentions. I mean, he’s always watching you like a wolf hunting sheep.”

“And I already told you, I’ll be fine. Do you really think I’d do anything with him? Not to mention how gross that’d be. He’s like my brother.”

He shrugged. “But he’s got a way with females.”

“Then it’s lucky I’ve got a sword,” I said. Since when had Pudge been so worried about me?

Across the deck, crew members tossed dice, betting everything from whiskey to jewelry on the roll. Everyone seemed at ease, like this was just another shipment of cargo they were delivering. Or maybe they didn’t want to admit the seriousness of the situation.

I sucked in a lungful of salty air. Dorian, where are you? Hag, what if he was dead? Or being tortured. My nails dug into the wood I sat on. Maybe I’d be too late.

“What’s wrong?” Pudge caught my arm.

Forcing a smile, I said, “Nothing.”

“It’s about Dorian, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So what, you almost kissed your brother in the Archives and then got betrothed. It’s not like you knew.” Pudge stared at the sky.

“Pudge!” I said in a loud whisper. “I didn’t almost do any such thing!”

“Well, it could be worse.”

Bloody hell, sometimes he was thick-headed. “How? How could it be worse?”

This time he chuckled. “Two words for you. Vane Girt.” He nodded in the direction of the other goblin, who was taking a swig of whiskey. Was it horrible that I hoped he got a hangover?

“If that’s your way of trying to make me feel better, it isn’t working.”

“Got you smiling, didn’t I?”

My fist connected with his shoulder. “Yeah. But only because you’re being ridiculous.”

“Ow.” He rubbed the spot where I punched him, then turned serious again. “Listen, Ivy. I wondered if you might be willing to do some sword work with me, too.”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

He stammered on. “It’s just that I want to be able to do my part in a fight and not fail. Especially since we’re going to be on our own—or, well, mostly by ourselves.” He stood and walked back toward the railing. “What if something happens out there and I’m not able to protect you or help you in a fight?”

“You really want to learn?” I moved up alongside him.

“Yes.” He awkwardly reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I know what everyone thinks about me. That I’m clumsy and all I care about is food. But it’s not true.”

I stared at him, his jaw tight, eyes focused away from me. “How about we start tonight?”

He turned to me with a grin, releasing my hand. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you get changed into a clean tunic while I grab the practice swords?”

Pudge nodded and hurried away. I hadn’t seen him this excited since he won free gizzards from the Gob Market. Pushing away from the rail, I headed toward the stairs, too, where I stopped long enough to grab the wooden weapons from Honour.

When I reached the cabin, I opened the door to find Pudge standing with his back to me, his tunic off. I gasped. There, situated between his shoulder blades, was a tattoo. The Hag, holding a sword.

Shutting the door, I crossed the room to him. “Pudge, when did you get this?”

He whipped around. “Last night,” he said. “I woke up to a sharp pain, then noticed the tattoo. I was going to tell you but wanted to wait until we had more privacy.”

“The Hag’s mark.” It made sense now. His sudden recovery. His wanting to train. Pudge was now just as much a part of this as I was. My fingers traced over it, along his broad shoulders, and I felt him tremble under my touch.

“Ivy.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“What?”

“I, uh… Let me get my shirt on.” He stepped away from me, tugging on his tunic, then spun to face me. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, eyes as round as dragon eggs.

“I won’t.”

The door burst open, and Grr appeared. He stopped in front of Pudge and me, and he bowed. The three of us. We were all in this together now.

Pudge offered me his hand, and I took it. My gaze shifted to him, and warmth flared in my chest and stomach. His hand was so big compared to mine, like it swallowed mine up. But something about it offered me comfort. Security. And not that I’d admit it to him, but I kind of liked it.

“I suppose we ought to start practicing,” I said, clearing my throat. The Hag had spoken—maybe not in words, but in gestures—and there was no way I’d ignore her. Danger loomed on the horizon. We needed to be ready. Both Pudge and I were a part of this. To what end, though, I couldn’t even venture a guess.