*COMPLETE* There are whispers across the kingdoms that the Paragon, that strangely gifted person who can wield all four Skills, has been found.
They're wrong, of course. No one has caught the Paragon. Allayria should know: she's it.
But Allayr...
As the suns spread their rays, spider-like, against the deep pink sky, the four pull the provisions onto the boat, arranging the perishables in a safe, somewhat water-proof section, and everything else in the storage below. They all make quick study of the boat's layout, familiarizing themselves with the dingy mess hall and the two officer cabins. As personal artifacts are brought on board Iaves announces that he'll be camping in the mess hall.
"Rex doesn't like going beneath deck," he explains to Allayria, dumping his stuff on a rusted iron table. "She's not a fan of close spaces."
The wolf brushes against Allayria as she passes, padding over to a blanket that has spilled out of Iaves' bag. She nuzzles it, pulling out a corner with the tips of her teeth before Iaves scolds her.
The remaining three make their way below deck, halting in the officer corridor. There are two rooms, one slightly bigger and meant clearly for the captain, the other for his first mate. They all look at each other, the unsaid question of who takes what lingering between them.
"Well, I'm going in here," Meg says flatly and she tosses her bag through the door of the first mate's cabin. "And if anybody wants to join me they can, but two people on a bed of this size would be a tight fit."
She turns around and gives Allayria a long stare as she slowly closes the door.
"Maybe you should find another room."
Allayria stares, flabbergasted, as the door snaps shut and then wheels around to look at the wide, spacious bed in the captain's room.
"You know," Ben says thoughtfully, "she was always my favorite. Don't tell Iaves."
His cheeks suddenly flush as he seems to rethink that statement.
"As a friend, of course, I meant—"
Allayria smiles at him, chucking her bag on the bed.
"I guess there's enough room for you in here," she says. "You should be warned though: I kick in my sleep."
That night they cook a pan of beans, simmering peppers and onions with them so that the room fills with a mouth-watering aroma. They eat out on the deck, underneath the stars, and run over the plans once more, and all the provisions they will need to take when they arrive.
"I'll want to bring plenty of rope too," Ben says, stretching out as he places his bowl on the floor. "If the library is mostly intact we might be able to get into the Seeing Caves."
Allayria frowns. She's heard of them, of course, the caves rumored to live beneath the island. The old sailors liked to say they were a place of revelation and premonition, and housed somewhere in the center was the meaning of the world. Even to eight year-old Allayria that sounded like bullshit.
"That's a little low on the priority list," Meg answers drily. "Besides, if we need to, Allayria and I can make climbing equipment."
"Out of what?"
Meg shrugs. "Books are dead trees, I can probably get something out of them, if I try."
Ben's expression is so aghast that Allayria bursts out laughing, her voice ringing out in the quiet starlight.
The sea, calm and serene in daylight, is rough and churning during the night. By Ben's calculations, they should reach Lethinor in three days' time. They are on a shifts schedule again, and after a crash course in nautical steering during day one, they rotate deck duty, two on during the day, and one at night. They don't get much of anywhere during the night on account of the sole person minding the operation, but no one seems to be too fussed. Sleep is taking precedent over speed—even for Ben.
He's arranged the schedule so he has the shift directly after Allayria's, and so he rolls sleepily out of the bed as she collapses on it, a pile of leaden limbs.
He brushes her hair as he passes, and Allayria drifts away, only to blink her eyes back open when she hears him come in. He sits at the edge of the bed, and she can hear him tugging off a boot.
Pushing herself upright, she shuffles over to him, knees on either side of his hips as she curls around his back, chin tucked against his neck. Her hands slide up underneath his shirt and he sighs, his stomach contracting against her touch as his head leans back against hers for a moment.
Allayria shuts her eyes, still groggy, and breathes in that intangible, quiet smell of his. There's something satisfying in the feel of him breathing beside her, warm and pliant.
"Did you get any sleep?" he murmurs in her ear and she nods. He presses a kiss to her earlobe, and she shifts again, murmuring a low, vibrating hum. He presses another kiss on her cheek and she sits back, pulling him with her.
They move languidly, a bit more practiced now, and not hurried by time or apprehension of discovery. It is difficult to see one another in the dim moonlight that filters from the cabin window, but she can see the bright, fierce gleam of his grey eyes staring up at her. He's watching her with such pride and admiration, and she wonders if he can see the warmth in her expression too.
There's something marvelous about happiness, something in it that seems to constantly surprise her, even though she should be used to it now. Maybe it's the belonging, the secure constancy of his hands at her waist, warm and sure. He's made up his mind about her; and she's made up hers about him.
She watches the stars twinkle through the cloudy, cramped cabin window, her ear pressed against the steady beat of his heart, and wonders again at how happy she feels.
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Shout-out to my dog, who hoovered down an entire unsupervised jumbo banana nut muffin in 2 minutes. You may have shaved off 10% of your life, but you did it like a boss.
Also: remember when I promised new artwork for this chapter? Yeah... I forgot that was next chapter. You'll get a good look at what we're sailing toward next chapter, for better or for worse.
Note: A full view of the artwork can be found on my deviantart account here: http://asimsluvr.deviantart.com/art/Meg-655478230
