Gold to Dust

Chapter Nineteen

Nineteen

Ellegra wrapped her arm tightly around her father's, a smile widening both their faces as she settled her head upon his shoulder. He chuckled lightly and patted her hand. "So," he began, "how are the plans coming along?"

"That, my curious father, is none of your business," she replied. She pursed her lips and drew her brow, lifting her chin in confidence that was supposed to be a mirror of her father's usual expression. "The planning is coming along fine, thanks to both Mother and that strikingly gorgeous cousin of Arem's, Rhina."

The king nodded knowingly. "Oh, I don't doubt it. I'm quite sure she's fighting for your brother's attention. Who knows. She might be good for Baxton."

"She is also my age. It'd be like marrying me, for heaven's sake. And why are you thinking of marriage alliances with Asaan when you said yourself that mine and Arem's wedding would be set on the morning after my birthday? I turn eighteen in three months." She stopped walking suddenly and stepped in his path, holding his hand in hers. "Why are you thinking business at all? Today is your day. You don't get to turn forty-five twice, Father."

He smiled at her. "I know. I just worry about you all."

"Well, today I forbid you from worrying yourself. In fact, I forbid you to think at all. It's your birthday, Father. Enjoy it while it lasts. Who knows how long any of us have." She kissed his forehead and padded away to her room to get ready.

Ellegra stirred awake. From head to toe, she was drenched in sweat and gasping as if she were having the air sucked from her lungs. The lull of the ship swayed her body back and forth. She pulled herself up against the walls and stared at the wooden ceiling above, her eyes following the drops of water that fell from the ceiling. She brought her knees up to her chest and pressed her head between them. Nausea moved in waves inside her stomach and churned inside her chest. The stifling air with the pungent smell of unwashed bodies and rancid odors she didn't want to know the origins of. She couldn't breathe. She needed air.

Ellegra demanded her feet to move, her muscles to move and carry her above onto the deck. She stepped over the bodies of fellow weary travellers until she found the stairs. The night air felt cool against her skin. Her feet regained their strength long enough to transport her over to the rail. She threw herself over the side and emptied the bland contents of her stomach off into a black, watery abyss. It wasn't much— a handful of rice, bland chunks of what tasted like sand but looked like black rocks coming up. But nonetheless, she heaved until her stomach clenched empty and her white knuckles relaxed on the rails.

"So you can fend off almost twenty men," said a teasing voice behind her, "but you can't handle a little sea voyage. I never would have guessed." Faine offered a gentle lift of his lips as he came to stand next to her and leaned against the ledge. He folded his hands together and sighed.

She rolled her eyes and drew her arms closer around her, her stomach rolling in nauseous waves every time the boat lurched. "Why are you here, Faine?"

His face took on a guarded look of seriousness that she hadn't expected; truthfully, she didn't know what to expect from him. Since she'd met him he'd always been a distant and careless person, yet somehow tentative and gentle when the situation demanded it from him. He'd only joined her company for the money when she hired him. Presently, he was no longer under her employment and had no real business being here with them. So why is he here?  "I... I never really thanked you."

She was stunned.

Almost a month ago, she was being descended upon by straggling drunks and filthy rebels whose profession consisted of drinking and trading young women for money. One month ago, Faine saved her from being taken captive by both royal guards and the traders. Three weeks ago, he'd helped her fight off multiple men and saved her best and only friend. And he wanted to thank her?