The Final Storm

11.All Roads Lead to...Delhi?

I thought I had already fully understood my dear husband's ability to silence a room in an instant. Apparently, I had greatly underestimated him. Completely flabbergasted, I stared at him for a full five seconds before my brain even began to work again. Adaira's condition wasn't much better. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes were as wide as wagon wheels.

"W-what? What did you say?"

"Did I stutter?" Lifting his gaze, my husband pinned his sister to the spot with an arctic stare. "We. Will. Go. After all, being killed in a war? I cannot let the man who tried to seduce my little sister die so easily." He cracked his knuckles. "That would be too kind an end for him."

Adaira stared at him for a moment longer—then her eyes started to water. "Oh...Rick...Rick, I..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you!" Leaping up, Adaira threw her arms around her brother's neck, dangling off him like an overenthusiastic chipmunk. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"For planning to beat the stuffing out of the man you fancy?"

"Yes!"

"Hm. So women can be reasonable."

"You...!" Sniffling, she punched him in the chest.

"In any case, you don't have to thank me. I am not doing this for you. I simply want my pound of flesh."

Yeah, right.

Adaira did her best to hide her snicker of amusement. I, for my part, had no such compunctions. Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent me a glacial look—or at least he tried to, before he was engulfed in another bone-crushing hug by his little sister.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You said that already. Eleven times in total."

She punched him again. "Shut up! Then let's bring it up to a nice, round dozen. Thank youuuu!"

"Mmph! Let go! Can't...breathe!"

Grinning widely, I watched the whole scene from the sidelines. Truly, it was a moving thing to watch: family punching each other, strangling each other and threatening to punch other people. This was how love should be expressed!

...not really. But, since I had met my husband, had my life ever been normal?

Mr Ambrose allowed his sister to hug him for five precious seconds—then pried the limpet off and stepped back. Turning around, he marched towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Adaira asked.

"To find the first mate." He threw her a glance. "After all, we should inform him of our new—and old—course. We wouldn't want to arrive in India too late now, would we? Now stop wasting my time!"

And with those words, he stalked out of the door. Behind him, Adaira and I exchanged grins. It was great to be on the right course again, in every sense of the word. The three of us had just stepped out onto the deck when a sailor approached with hurried steps.

"Captain, Sir! You mentioned before you'll want the ship to change course, Sir. Should we start to—?"

"Belay that order!" Mr Ambrose cut him off. "Continue our current course towards India and the island of Agatti."

"Um...aye aye, Sir!" Hurriedly, the sailor saluted and rushed off to do his captain's bidding. Soon, shouts echoed across the yacht, and the sailors who had just started changing the rigging hurriedly began to undo their work. The ship shifted and, a moment later, resumed its course southwards. Marching over to the railing, Mr Ambrose swept his gaze across the ocean, as if by the mere force of his gaze he could bend the wind to his will and make the ship go faster.