Page 96 of Sword & Sacrifice

Silas’ attention turned toward the ship, and his eyes widened as he met the steely gaze of a female sailor, her loaded crossbow pointed directly at him.

“Silas!” Emmaline’s voice rose above the ruckus as she spotted him. She dropped to her knees on the dock, holding out a hand to help him up.

“Oh sure, help him but ignore me. It’s not like he started it or anything,” an annoyed voice grumbled behind him, accompanied by splashing water as the person approached.

Silas turned around, raising his fists to block an expected strike. The motion dipped him under the water again and he almost inhaled a lungful before his kicking feet brought him back to the surface.

The person staring back at Silas had blond hair clinging to their forehead and wide hazel eyes. For a moment, Silas thought he was looking at a younger version of Valerian.

Instead of attacking, they swam past him and pulled themself up onto the dock.

“Moira, for gods’ sake,” a voice called from the ship. “Lower the crossbow so he can get out of the water without worrying about you accidentally shooting him.”

“He attacked my first mate.”

Em pursed her lips as she glared up at Moira, then held her hand out to Silas. “She won’t shoot you,” she promised.

“Not unless she wants her whole ship burned to ashes,” Griselda growled.

Afraid he would drag her down into the water, Silas ignored Em’s hand and pulled himself up onto the docks. A wet puddle formed around him as he caught his breath and looked up at the ship. More than just the captain had a weapon trained on him—half the crew had already drawn their swords, waiting for the fight to begin.

The captain kept Silas in her sights as she growled, “You have five fucking seconds to get away from my ship and my crew before I shoot you.”

“Captain!” the harbor master shouted, gaping in shock. “You can’t barge onto my harbor and threaten people!”

She didn’t bother arguing with him, just spit out a hate-filled, “Four seconds.”

“Moira, you can’t shoot the king.” Now that Silas was firmly above water, he recognized the voice.

Mouth hanging open in shock, Silas turned to look at the man standing on the captain’s right, his hand tentatively reached out as if he would forcefully lower her arm if she didn’t stand down on her own. “Cal?”

The missing Head of the Merchant’s Guild grimaced as he locked eyes with Silas. “Hello, Your Majesty. I’m sorry about my rather late and … unorthodox arrival.”

“This is King Silas Meris?” the captain demanded.

“He is,” Griselda barked, “and if you don’t want to be executed for attempted regicide, you’ll put the weapon down. Now.”

The captain finally lowered the crossbow while her crew slowly lowered their swords. “Well fuck me under the moonlight, this is probably the worst first impression I’ve ever made.” She sauntered down the ramp and held her hand out to Silas. “Captain Moira Rhosyn of The Queen’s Garden. I’m here to help you with your traitor problem.”

Silas needed somewhere private to speak with Captain Moira, so he guided the captain and a few members of her crew to the council chambers. Lord Pryce and Felicity were inside, bent over their respective paperwork.

“I need the room,” Silas announced with no further explanation.

Felicity immediately stood and gathered her notes, curtseying to Silas. She didn’t quite make it out the door before she did a double-take, gaping at Silas’ damp clothes and the towel hanging around his shoulders.

“I’ll explain later,” he murmured, shooing her off.

She left reluctantly, her eyes lingering on Captain Moira and her crew until the door closed behind her.

Lord Pryce was a little slower, taking his time to finish writing something. When he finally looked up, his eyes briefly scanned Silas before turning his attention to the sailors. “Cal?”

“Hello, Pryce,” Cal replied, bowing his head to the lord.

Pryce arched an eyebrow. “From the way His Majesty spoke of your … absence, we weren’t sure you would return.”

Cal’s lips twitched, halfway between a smile and a grimace. “An understandable assumption that I’m happy to disavow.”

“What’s with the vocab lesson, Calico?” The sailor Silas had mistaken for Emmaline’s captor slid their arm across Cal’s shoulders. “You never talk this fancy on the ship.”