Broken Throne - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,67

quickly, pulling her back into place.

I shift if only a little, putting more of myself between the child and the Silver, in case the latter takes offense.

But she doesn’t move, her focus entirely fixed on me.

“We eat at sundown,” I tell her evenly.

Her lip curls. “No lunch?”

On the bench, one of the Red mothers shifts a foot slowly, pushing her pack farther out of sight. I almost smirk. Of course they had the common sense to bring provisions for the journey.

“When I said we, I meant my crew,” I tell the Silver, each word sharp as a knife. “You didn’t bring any food for yourself?”

The tapping hand ceases movement but doesn’t clench. The gun at my hip hangs heavy. I don’t expect a desperate Silver fleeing her homeland to attack us over a meal, but it doesn’t hurt to stay vigilant. Silvers aren’t used to being denied anything, and they don’t react well to hardship.

She grimaces, showing white, even teeth. Too perfect to be natural. She must have had them knocked out and regrown by a skin healer. “Certainly my rate covers board.”

“That wasn’t part of our original deal. But you can pay for food if you’d like,” I say. Her coin already given is for speed and silence and no questions. Not meals. And despite the money she’s already paid out, I’m the one in position to bargain. Not her. “That’s certainly an option.”

Her eyes don’t leave mine, but one of her hands brushes over the coin purse hooked to her belt. Weighing the gold left, listening to the subtle clink of metal. It’s not an insubstantial amount. But still she hesitates to pay, even to feed herself.

The princess is saving her money. For more. For worse. For a longer journey than the river. I’d wager all the cargo in my hold she doesn’t plan to stop at the Gates. Like before when she first landed on my deck, I’m intrigued.

Her expression changes, wiping clean. She sniffs and I get the sense of being dismissed like a courtier or a servant. One of her fingers twitches, as if remembering the urge to wave off a worthless Red.

“Do you dock anywhere along this stretch of the Ohius?” she asks, turning her head to survey the Freeland side of the river, where the Lakelands and a Silver crown hold no sway. The woodlands tangle into darkness, even in the morning sun. Her question and interest puzzle me only for a second.

Princess Lyrisa plans to hunt for her supper.

I survey her again, now that she’s lost the coat. Her clothes are as fine as her boots, a dark blue uniform. No jewelry, no adornment. She has no weapons that I can see either, so her ability must allow her to bring down game. I know noble Silvers are trained to war as much as soldiers are, trained to fight one another for sport and pride. And the thought of one so powerful on my keel unsettles me deeply.

But not enough to turn away her money. Or stop antagonizing her.

I take a step back, grinning sharply. Her eyes narrow. “We don’t dock until the confluence the day after tomorrow,” I say.

One of her hands darts, and the coin sails end over end, a flash of gold in the sun. I catch it deftly, enjoying my own triumph and her poorly disguised disdain.

“A pleasure having you on board, Princess,” I call over my shoulder as I walk away.

The sunset turns the river bloodred, lengthening every shadow until we seem to swim through darkness. At the prow, Gill keeps watch for errant logs or drifting sandbars. Crickets on the bank and frogs in the shallows sing. It’s a quiet night on the Ohius, an easy current drawing us farther southeast. I hope, when it’s my time, I die on a night like this.

When Big Ean doles out supper, I expect the Silver to balk at the quality of our food. It’s not terrible, but our provisions certainly aren’t up to the standards a princess would be used to. Instead she takes what she’s given without a word, then eats quietly by herself on her bench. Salt jerky and hard biscuits seem to go down as easily as the finest desserts in Piedmont.

The rest of us gather on the deck, circled up on crates or the deck itself to eat. The pair of kids, Melly and her older brother, whose name I’ve learned is Simon, are already asleep against their mothers, their bellies full. The parents,

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