Starlight

One: The Pop

The journey from the continent to the main island is, without question, a miserable experience. The boat swayed as a heavy wave rolled against it. Water broke against the helm, spraying everyone toward the front of the boat with sea foam. I glanced up at the sky; the clouds were bloated with rain.

I was dutifully ignoring the captain as I hung my arms over the handrails and looked out across the choppy waves. He had been adamant while on shore that he didn't want to take sail today, but the pouch of gold coins had convinced him to reconsider. Not that the money would stop his complaining completely. He would wait, of course, until the first fat droplets began to fall before giving me his 'I-told-you-so' glance and ordering me down below to take cover.

"In a hurry today?" a warm, honeyed voice whispers behind me. I don't turn around immediately, instead waiting a couple of seconds. Two large hands slide across my stomach from behind, and I'm pulled into a strong set of arms.

I turn my head to look at Tarik. He was just as beautiful as always. Tall, sun-bronzed skin, chestnut curls he tied into a small bun at the nape of his neck, and an equally charming and mischievous smirk etched into his face.

"I wouldn't have forced the captain to brave the storm if I wasn't," I murmur back and let out a sigh. I rarely saw him, usually only when I chartered this boat to take me back and forth from the Shadow Lands and the Isles of Kalanthi. I almost always traveled with enough of a flexible schedule to allow myself extra time to spend with Tarik. He was fun and friendly and one of the few faeries in this world who saw me as more than just a plaything.

I wasn't kidding myself; I knew neither of us felt more than general fondness and physical attraction towards the other. When I first started playing around with him, I'd often thought of what my life would be like if we fell in love. He was handsome and kind. I was a smart woman, but even I fell into the trap of his beautiful face. It didn't take me more than a few weeks to realize that no matter how lovely it was to sleep with him, I'd never feel more than fondness and lust.

"Surely you don't have an hour?" he asks. One of his hands had started tracing patterns on my stomach. I ignored the warmth elicited by his touch and turned in his hold to look at him.

"I barely have time to make sure everything is unloaded properly before I must scurry off to my next job," I say placatingly. I press my hands against his chest and lightly push, knowing he'll take that as a hint to back off.

His brow furrows. He isn't often rejected.

"Tomorrow?" I ask when he says nothing. Though I'm always kept busy--my schedule almost as tangible as a real leash--I could find time tomorrow to sneak to the docks. It had been weeks since we'd last had a moment more than rushed kisses and fondling in a dark nook on the ship.

"We'll be back out at sea," he says.

"How long?" He pauses at my question. His tawny eyes slide over to where the captain hovers, eyeing us. He doesn't approve of the relationship between his crewmember and me, but it's a big risk to upset an arms dealer. Especially when that arms dealer almost single-handedly funds the upkeep and maintenance of such a grand ship.

"I suspect until the heat is off of us," he replies.

"Have they--" he cuts my question off with a quick press of his lips on mine. For a second, I think about calling him out on it, but I choose to lean into the kiss instead. Choose my battles. That's what Graves always tells me.

My question is stupid anyway. Of course, the royal guards have started sniffing around. The monetary success of this ship and its crew have spiked, no doubt, in the last few months since I recruited them to be my personal escort to and from the mainland. Growth like that doesn't just happen.