CHAPTER 4
stare at him, mouth ajar. I spent so long trying to forget about him and that night in Bordeaux, when the stars shone so brightly and the airI smelled heavy with ripening grapes, and now Raphael is standing before me, looking like a damn demigod.
We met at a château during our summer trip. And after we kissed, he never spoke to me again. I also remember hearing him call me trash after Mom fell down the stairs drunk one night.
He is, in fact, a million times better looking than Jules the waiter, which is endlessly frustrating. You can tell by his bearing that he knows how beautiful he is, too. Sun-kissed skin, muscular physique, the piercing silver
eyes… I loathe the man.
From the top of the gangplank, he glances at me for a fraction of a moment, but if he recognizes me, he doesn’t let it show. A woman in a blue dress stands by the main mast, demanding the names of every fugitive. She has peaches-and-cream skin and wears her wavy blonde hair in a messy bun.
Her large diamond earrings gleam in the setting sun. She looks delicate in every way except for the sheathed sword slung around her waist.
My gaze trails over the deck, which is fully stocked with an arsenal of spears and harpoons. An old-fashioned fishing ship, maybe? Here, the smell of the sea mingles with the woodsy scent of the ship and a hint of tar. Crew members dressed in blue jackets are climbing up the rigging to unfurl the sails.
There’s another woman on the deck, too, this one unarmed. She wears a flowing yellow gown and a dreamy expression.
As I step closer, I can hear Raphael arguing with Aleina in Fey. “I don’t understand,” he tells Aleina in a clipped voice. “Where’s our contact?”
“I told you, he never showed up,” Aleina answers impatiently.
A muscle clenches in Raphael’s jaw. “What happened to him?”
“I have no idea. We had to get here by ourselves.”
“How did you even make it this far?”
“We had help,” Aleina said, gesturing at me. “From a tourist.”
From high above, Raphael shoots me a cautious look. His otherworldly eyes narrow as he takes me in, but I don’t see any flicker of recognition.
“You told this woman about us?” He injects the words this woman with an impressive amount of disdain, suggesting he might remember me after all. He isn’t calling me “trash” out loud, but it’s certainly implied.
“We didn’t have much choice.” Aleina casts a worried look back toward the policemen at the entrance to the port. “I can explain it all later. We need to get underway.”
The blonde woman saunters forward and touches his bicep. “We’re not going with this group. The names don’t match our list.”
“None of them, Viviane?” he asks.
I stare at them. Are they out of their minds?
“Some of them,” Viviane clarifies. “There are three missing who were supposed to be here, and three more who are not supposed to be here.” She points at the little boy. “Him, and those two ginger ladies.”
A woman with the same shade of fiery hair wraps her arms around them.
“They’re my daughters. I’m not leaving them in either of the Fey controlled territories. Of course I’m not.”
“We told you,” Viviane snaps. “Only people who were approved. We were very clear. You’re here because of the information you possess. They’re of no use to us.”
Aleina holds the boy’s head as he cries against her leg. His tears left streaks on her pale gold dress. “His parents were killed on the way here. He’s only four. Do you have children? What kind of person leaves a four-year-old behind?”
“His parents were warned. We can’t take everyone,” Viviane shot back.
In the setting sun, her diamond earrings glitter. “We vet everyone who comes, and we have finite resources. Do you know what will happen if word
gets out that we’re taking care of every demi-Fey who straggles up to the docks? I’ll tell you what’ll happen. We’ll lose the war.”
And here I thought the war was over.
Aleina still strokes the little boy’s head. “His parents were two of the people killed on the way here. Their names are on the list. We can’t leave
him. They’ll arrest him. Or…”
Or kill him.
“So, stay and look after him,” Raphael says quietly. “Your choice. There are thousands of demi-Fey and human fugitives. We cannot take everyone.”
The little boy’s face crumples, and he turns to Aleina, crying into her thigh. “I’m sorry, Malo,” she says. Her voice cracks.
I feel a twist in my chest as Aleina climbs the gangplank to the deck. I reach out for Malo’s little hand. Now that he’s with a stranger, he’s trying to stifle the sound of his crying. He must be terrified.
I understand they can’t take everyone, but a little boy who just watched his parents die? Clearly, Raphael is as much of a prick as always.
Raphael catches my eye and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, we have limited funding and space. Every person on our list was handpicked by the resistance. If we start making exceptions because of sentiment, anarchy will drag us into ruin. We have no room for stragglers, no provisions to help them.
We are fighting for our lives.”
“So is this little boy,” I say.
“We don’t have time to argue with you,” adds Viviane. “We leave these three behind.”
The demi-Fey will be slaughtered in the streets. Just like Vena, they’ll bleed to death on the cobbles. Would they spare a little boy? I doubt it.
Then again, I’m not sure Viviane really cares.
“I’m not leaving without my daughters.” At least the redheaded woman is seeing sense here. She folds her arms, glaring up at the ship.
With the five of us on the old dock, Raphael nods at Viviane. “Fine. We need to go.”
“You’ve got to take them, please. Please.” Desperation rings in my voice.
Malo is clinging to my hand.
Raphael shakes his head. “The resistance is doing its best to help the fugitives, but we have to prioritize. We stick to our plans. These people on our list need to be extracted before anyone else. And with respect, you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“I understand you’re abandoning a child who just watched his parents die,” I snap.
Raphael grits his teeth. “Not that I need to explain myself to a tiny American pixie princess on a fun holiday jaunt—”
“Did you just say pixie princess?”
“—but these are the people who can help us fight Auberon. They have information and knowledge we need to win. And that is why we are taking them. We’re an army, not a charity. Now, why don’t you go back to drinking champagne on the beach and chasing after rich men?”
My cheeks flush. Oh, wonderful. Apparently, he remembers my mother.
Chasing after rich men is her favorite hobby and the entire reason we had those summers at the château.
Behind me, the two young women are sniffling. At least they have their mom, unlike Malo. Now, he only has me.
I squeeze his tiny hand. He’s crying against my leg now, too.
I’m desperate. I need some kind of leverage to stop the ship from setting sail. Unfortunately, confrontation is not one of my skills. I’m generally a people pleaser.
And yet, Raphael really brings out the fire in me.
One of the crew is already starting to release dock lines. Panic tightens my chest.
I clear my throat and venture, “Well, I do hope the French police over there don’t find out about this. They tend to cooperate with the Fey army to preserve peace. What will they do if someone alerts them?”
“Stop!” Raphael holds up a hand, stopping the crew from untethering the ship. His body tightens with anger. I can almost feel the cold fury rippling off him. “Is that a threat?”
Of course, I would never risk these people’s lives by calling the authorities. But at least I got his attention.
I hold his gaze. “I’m just wondering out loud. Would they even let your ship leave the port? They’re truly terrified Auberon will take the rest of France.”
Viviane leaps onto the dock, and the damp wood creaks beneath her feet.
In the next heartbeat, she has her blade at my throat. The sea breeze whips at her blonde ringlets. “I’m taking her out.”
I freeze, unable to breathe. I’ve never been threatened with a weapon before. My head spins, and my knees grow weak, but I force myself to meet
her gaze.
“No!” Aleina calls out.
“Don’t, Viviane,” Raphael barks. “Too messy.” He leaps down, too, and steps closer. In the dying light, his pale eyes pierce me.
I should be stepping back. Turning away. But for some reason, I’m standing my ground. My gaze flicks to Raphael. “They’re just three extra people. The boy hardly takes any space.”
With his hands on his hips, he stares back at the dock. “Fine. Viviane, lower the sword. Everyone comes aboard. I don’t have time for this.”
I exhale in relief. After a few seconds, Viviane drops her blade.
The redheaded mother looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Thanks,” she whispers. “For everything.”
I swallow hard. “Sure. I’m glad I could help.”
One of the young ginger women scoops Malo into her arms and carries him up the gangplank.
Raphael’s head is turned, and he’s staring intently at something. I turn to see what he’s looking at, and my heart skips a beat. One of the policemen is running for us, his feet thundering over the wooden dock. “Nia Melisende!” he shouts from the distance.
“How does he know your name?” asks Raphael icily.
“He checked my passport.”
Raphael pulls on a cap, covering the curved tips of his ears. Then, smoothly, he leaps onto the dock. To my surprise, he slides his arm around my shoulders, and turns me to face the other direction. He points out to the sea, like he’s showing me a sunset. “Follow my lead and play along. Stay relaxed. Calm.”
My breath slows, my thoughts zeroing in on the warmth of his arm around my shoulders. Bizarrely, I find myself actually staying calm, as if his words are a command I can’t ignore. His masculine scent triggers a long- buried memory, but the last time I saw him, he wasn’t nearly this muscular.
“Nia Melisende!” the cop calls again from behind us.
With his arm still wrapped around me, Raphael turns, a calm smile on his face. He raises his eyebrows. “Looking for my wife? She’s not feeling very well, I’m afraid.”
We make a ridiculous pair. I’m short as hell, and Raphael towers over me.
The policeman is still catching his breath, one hand on his chest. “My
colleague said”—he gasps and breathes in deeply—“there were others who walked in with you. Unaccounted for.” He waves at the boat. “Those lot. We never checked their papers.”
Raphael frowns. “Ah, no, it’s fine. They had their passports checked earlier.” He pulls his arm from me, coughing into his elbow. “Bloody hell, Nia. I told you that you were going to give me that fever. Have your blisters gone?”
I stare at him for a moment, but only just a moment. I can always figure out what people want and give it to them. It’s one of my greatest skills. And right now, I know exactly what role I’m supposed to play.
I wince, touching my side. “No. I must have caught something terrible.”
Raphael grimaces. “I tell you what. It’s the mongrel flu, is what it is. Do you know how bloody contagious that is, Nia?”
“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose. If you weren’t manhandling me all the time, you might have avoided catching the chancres.”
“Chancres?” asks the policeman. His mustache twitches.
I shoot him a forlorn look. “In all the places the sun don’t shine. They’re in my throat, too, and if I cough…” I start to cough.
He pales, then glances at the boat. “Perhaps I needn’t worry about their passports, then.”
I nod, still coughing. “I hope it’s not fatal. They all have it, too.”
The cop casts another worried look at the boat. He starts to turn and walk away, and my chest unclenches. But before he takes another step, he freezes.
As he turns back to the boat, his brow furrows. The wind skims over us.
Slowly, a look of fury crosses his features. I turn to see who he’s looking at— Malo, his little pointed ears showing through his dark curls.
The cop opens his mouth to shout, but Raphael jabs him in the throat. It all happens so quickly, I can hardly register what he’s done.
The cop falls to the ground, choking and gurgling. My heart gallops in my chest, my eyes wide with horror. Raphael reaches down, grabs the cop’s head and jaw, and swiftly twists. There’s a sickening crunch, and the policeman’s body sags.
I stare, shocked. Just like before—one minute, someone was standing there alive, and the next moment, gone. I had no idea someone could kill a person that silently and efficiently with only his bare hands.
“Quick,” Raphael says. “Grab that net there.”
Out of reflex, I follow his instruction, grasping a tangled, weighted
fishing net and numbly handing him the edge.
“Help me.” His voice is crisp, impossible to argue with.
He wraps the net around the body. I try to help him, my fingers trembling.
What am I doing? When the cop is wrapped up, Raphael kicks him into the sea. With the weights tied to the net, the body instantly sinks.
My heart is still racing when Raphael grabs me by the bicep and drags me up the gangplank.
I stumble onto the deck. “What’s happening?” I ask, stunned by the sudden turn of events.
“He knew your name,” Raphael says tersely. “Which means the other cops might know your name. You can’t stay here to get interrogated.”
I have a million more questions but no time to ask them. I lick my lips, tasting salt. What am I going to do in this situation, fight off the lethal, armed spies with my purse?
Already, Viviane is sidling up to him. “How long until they find his body?”
“There’s a strong westerly undercurrent here. He’ll be dragged a mile away, but we need to go now.” His glance darts back to the beach. “The nearest police station is just two hundred thirty yards away. They might come looking for him. I reckon we have about seven minutes to get out of here.”
“I’m not going with you,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.
None of this is part of my plan. I have a ticket back home in a week; all my things are back in my hotel. I’m not someone who deals with stress well, and I’m barely functioning. At this point, I have no desire to throw myself into more danger.
Viviane raises her sword, and the blade nicks my throat. “The thing is, we’re not asking.”
My stomach drops. I stare at her, my thoughts racing. Wisps of her blonde hair lift in the wind, and she watches me with pale eyes.
Usually, I’m good at figuring out what people want and using that to get what I want, too. But right now, my mind is drawing a blank because this woman is not about to back down.
“Cast off!” Raphael calls out. “Everyone’s on board.”
The world seems to dim as people bustle around. The boat’s engine roars to life, spewing black smoke.
My stomach twists in knots. Where the hell are they taking me?
As we set off, the marine wind whips at my hair. Finally, Viviane lowers
her sword. Her jaw is clenched, and she’s looking at me with disgust.
I look back at the dock. It grows smaller and smaller. This is a horrible mistake, something I never should have jumped into.
And yet, what else could I have done?
