Beneath the Forsaken City - C. E. Laureano Page 0,1

particular inclination toward fast healing. Then again, during his time with the Fíréin brotherhood, he’d discovered a number of things about himself that shouldn’t be possible.

“What do we do now that it’s healed around the stitches?” he asked.

“The gut will dissolve on the inside. I can try to cut the bits on the surface, but it will hurt if I have only a dagger.”

“It can wait until we make landfall.” The idea of cutting tiny stitches with a sharp blade on a pitching ship didn’t sound appealing. Conor grinned at her. “Besides, I can think of better ways to use our time.”

Aine blushed, but she lifted her face to accept his kiss. He spun her around and pulled her onto his lap on the narrow berth, his arms tightening around her.

She stilled and looked into his eyes. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

His heart lurched. Right now, the last thing he wanted to think about was leaving her. He forced his muscles to relax. “If I can find the harp and rebuild the wards, it will cripple their forces. It’s my responsibility.”

“I know. Whatever happens, just remember I love you.”

“And you are my world, Aine. Never forget that.”

He kissed her again, and his resolve slipped. It wasn’t right. He’d given her up once with the intention of doing his duty to Seare, and where had that led? They’d been betrayed, Conor nearly killed, and Aine kidnapped. They’d barely eluded Diarmuid’s grasp, and for all Conor’s trouble, he was no closer to finding Meallachán’s harp, the object of power he needed to rebuild the wards. If he’d only kept her close, men wouldn’t have died needlessly protecting her.

Aine was his wife now. That made her his responsibility, didn’t it? What kind of man was he if he abandoned her?

The ship jerked sharply, and Conor thrust out an arm against the bulkhead to keep them in the berth. The movement was followed by a drop in the other direction. Overhead, the tap of raindrops turned into a deafening roar.

“I should see if they need an extra set of hands.” Conor eased her onto the bunk beside him and reached for his tunic. He shrugged it on and then leaned over and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back.”

The situation on deck was worse than Conor had expected. He slipped and slid across the wood as sheets of rain poured down on him. A jagged fork of lightning split the sky, followed by a crash of thunder that nearly vibrated him off his feet. The deck tilted at an odd angle, and he went down on one knee. When the ship righted itself, he struggled to his feet and made his way toward the stern.

Captain Ui Brollacháin braced himself on the starboard side, feet spread, attempting to hold the rudder steady amidst the chaos.

“What can I do?” Conor shouted.

The captain gestured to where crewmen fought the wind’s pull on the ungainly square sail. Conor started toward them as a huge wave crashed over the port rail. Water swirled around his calves and nearly swept his feet out from under him, but still he slogged forward.

Foreboding prickled the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder, and his blood turned to ice. Aine clung to the cabin’s open door, her hair and clothes plastered to her by the driving rain, water rushing around her feet. Her lips moved, but her shout was lost on the wind.

“Stay there!” he yelled as he made his way back to her. “Go back inside!”

Conor was nearly within arm’s reach when a huge wave abruptly turned the ship sideways. He hit the deck hard and skidded toward the railing, grabbing a coil of rope to slow his slide. Aine scrabbled for a handhold, but her fingers just scraped over the slick decking. A scream ripped from her as the flow of water carried her over the rail.

The ship shifted back to level. Conor scrambled to the side in time to see Aine surface between the massive swells, surrounded by jetsam and pieces of splintered wood.

She can’t swim.

The terrified thought crystallized in his mind, blotting out all else. Without stopping to consider the wisdom of his action, he clambered over the rail and dove cleanly away from the ship.

The impact of the water momentarily stunned him. Instantly, the cold curled through his extremities as the churning waves bore him downward. It took him several moments to figure out which direction was up. He broke the surface with