I would’ve liked to pursue that line of thought more. What else had Azrael and Duncan said about our past? But Tiron just nodded, since Duncan was staring hard at him now.
There was a footfall outside, then a guard opened the door. A second stood behind him, his sword gripped in his hand.
“Where are we?” Azrael asked. “Are we almost back to the summer court?”
“Don’t talk to him,” the guard in the hallway said harshly. “Get the girl.”
Raile wanted to see me? I should have the chance, then, to see how close we were to the coast. We needed that information to formulate an escape plan. Any chance to get one of us unchained and out of this floating dungeon was a good thing.
I winked at the guys when the guards had unchained me. The guard barely rested his hand on my shoulder, and he was very polite.
“Trust me,” I mouthed at the guys, before they led me out.
Duncan groaned behind me. “I thought we were going to die in the spring court, but now we’re really going to die.”
His optimism always underwhelmed me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When I walked into the lavish captain’s quarters, one of the guards carried the keys to Raile and knelt.
Raile was sitting in a cushioned chair, his legs thrown over one side, drinking from a rather oversized crystal goblet. He took the keys from the guard absently and waved them off. He didn’t speak until the guards had left us there, closing the doors quietly behind them.
Then he said, “There you are, Alisa. How are you finding your quarters?”
His voice was over-the-top dramatic.
“Are you drunk?” I asked.
He huffed a laugh. “Why? Do you want to judge me or join me?”
“Both?” I suggested.
“Very well then.” He straightened to pour me a glass.
When he walked over to me, he towered above me, reminding me of how he’d leaned in to whisper to me above deck.
He’d taken off his jacket; his undershirt clung to his broad shoulders and chiseled chest, revealing the width of his biceps. The salty scent of his body washed over me, and I pressed my lips together tightly, exhaling. I did not need to dwell on the fact that Raile smelled delicious when the man was toxic underneath.
Our fingers briefly overlapped when I took the glass from him. “You and I should play a drinking game,” I suggested, “and see if I can catch up with you.”
“Oh?” His brows arched. “I’ve never known you to drink to the point of drunkenness, Alisa, it was always my primary concern about our long-term compatibility. Are you trying to get me drunk for a more convenient escape?”
I scoffed at that. “You’d still have all your guards and sailors…”
“They aren’t the ones who can stop you.” He looked at me fondly, as if he was thinking of caressing my face, but he didn’t touch me. Wise choice. “You and I were always a more even match.”
The arrogant bastard.
“You have me at a disadvantage since I don’t remember anything about our past,” I admitted. “I hoped…”
He laughed, suddenly turning around and loping back toward the chairs. He gestured at the table between the two chairs, where fruit, cheese and bread waited alongside the wine. “Come eat.”
“Something besides that deplorable fish stew you serve in the dungeon?”
“I ate that same deplorable stew for supper, as did your brother.” His tone was mild. “I always eat the same meal as my sailors.”
He regarded me steadily and asked, “Are you still a bit of a snob, Alisa? I thought your time dirtside might have cured you of that. Stars know, there’s little to be snobby about there.”
“I’m not a snob.”
He rolled his eyes, but said, “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“You don’t have to fight with me. You have me imprisoned in your dungeon, remember? It appears you’ve won.” For now.
“Mm.” He tilted his head to one side, studying me. “I wonder what Faer would have done to you and your boys without witnesses.”
His words took me aback. “Am I supposed to think I’m chained in your dungeon as proof of your friendship?”
He laughed at that. “No, Alisa. I don’t want you to think that you or I have ever been…or ever will be… friends.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, and the motion revealed the keys that hung on the ring from his belt.
“What do you want from me, then?”
He lightly kicked the chair across from him, then threw himself into his own chair again. “I want the pleasure of your sparkling