Page 112 of Forged in Fading

Yes, she would have missed him.

Another crunch of spice shredded that thought into oblivion.

The nausea had abated enough the next day for Alvara to assist with sailing, not that they would let her or that she knew anything about it, but she would have liked to be useful.

Instead, she watched the waves rush by and winced each time the freezing water sprayed her, raising bumps on her shivering skin. Eloisa would have loved to paint the wisps of the clouds, the sun reflecting on the sea. Maybe she had even been on a ship like this before—Alvara would have been none the wiser.

Boden somehow managed to flip through the pages of a book, despite the frequent rocking and tumbling of the floor beneath them.

“What are you reading?” she asked as she took shaky steps toward him.

“Dwarvish.”

“How did you even come to learn it?”

He laid the book face down on his lap and stroked a finger across the worn cover. “What little free time I had in the palace I spent reading, studying other languages in case we ever needed the help of the other races against the king. My grasp of anything other than the human tongue is rudimentary at best, but it’s better than nothing.”

Alvara slid onto the damp wood next to him. “Admit it. You’re itching to use your Dwarvish. Didn’t you do anything fun? Drink with friends?”

“It’s difficult to have friends in that kind of place, except for Rav, who I didn’t see as often as I would have liked. And Kielana. Though that proved to be a colossal mistake.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. “I tried to stay away from anyone I could. The king would have only punished them to make me more miserable.” Boden slipped a string into the pages and tossed the tome into a nearby sleeping hide. “Also, should I be concerned that drinking was the only idea of fun you could think of?”

“It can be pretty fun. Have you ever tried mixing ale with—” The words faded in her throat.

Boden had strolled away mid-conversation, sauntering toward the bow of the ship, as if he hadn’t just discarded their interaction like a moldy pastry. Alvara ground her teeth. If he didn’t want to talk about King Einar’s palace, he could have just said so.

A female dressed in a blue flowing silk gown at the other end of the ship hooked her finger toward Boden, her full lips lifting in a smile that Alvara did not like one bit. Her immaculate skin, her perfect dark hair that cascaded down her back in waves, the generous curves of her body that would have tempted Kutamir himself—how did she get on the ship? And more importantly, why was she so godsdamned beautiful?

Boden approached her, surely to question how and when she had snuck on the ship, and…gripped his hands around her waist. The female stroked his arm, wringing out Alvara’s insides and dripping vile acid into her stomach.

A past lover…maybe Kielana. It made no sense for her to be on the ship, but the mental image of them tangled in each other’s arms set what little rational thought Alvara had left ablaze. She still couldn’t look away.

Boden tipped his head and brushed his lips against that godsdamned hag’s mouth, and Alvara chomped down on the inside of her cheek. She shuffled back a step, but her foot slipped on a puddle of seawater, and she landed on her backside. The pain of her fall did nothing to distract her from the sweltering heat washing over her face.

He kissed her. He actually kissed her.

Alvara dug her nails into her palms. She could push her overboard. If she did it quickly, no one but Boden would see what she had done.

The female wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tighter against her. Seeing their bodies pressed together, the possessiveness in his touch…

Alvara didn’t care. And there was no reason she should. Boden was his own person and could bed whomever he wanted.

She pivoted toward the opposite end of the ship, teetering with each step. It wasn’t any of her business. She had simply been surprised because he had never mentioned any current admirers, not that she had ever asked or she ever would. It would be a foolish question when the answer didn’t matter at all, let alone interest her.

Alvara scooped up his book, and the musty scent anchored her. It was nothing. To confirm that she indeed had no feelings whatsoever about Boden’s entanglement, she made her way toward them, the tome clutched in her hand.

Where they had once stood, only a puddle of water remained.

Had he actually taken her to bed? The sun had barely awoken. Never in all her years had she seen something so brazen and ludicrous. Bastard. She cocked her arm that held his Dwarvish tome, preparing to launch it.

Splash.

She followed the sound and cursed. A seal was dragging Boden through the waves—no, not a seal. A selkie. And yet he still looked madly in love with the thing.

Alvara flung the book to the ground and dove into the water without another thought. The stinging cold of the sea washed over her body, a shiver running up her spine as she swam. Her arms and legs moved in a frantic, clumsy rhythm, but it wasn’t enough to fight the quivering of her freezing muscles. She was a lousy swimmer, but she knew enough not to drown.

“Let him go!”

The selkie paused in her escape, swiveling her head toward Alvara.