Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

31

Dixon had already sweet-talked a captain into sailing them over to the Dead Islands. She waited upon the boat at the docks anxiously and alone; Nehemia was not to come with them.

When Nesryn reached the small boat, she stepped aside to let the others on first. The boat captain stared. Even in rags and deliberately muddied faces, the crown prince was still recognisable. They were lucky they hadn't bumped into any patrols yet.

Nesryn stalked forward and leaned in to the captain's ear. 'If I hear you report this to anyone, you're dead. Get your ass moving and go.' The captain was startled into action, and he hurried to the wheel. 'Get into a cabin. Don't come above decks,' she ordered Dorian. 'Chaol and Ress, you can stay up here if you want, but Dorian, get out of view now. We can't afford to have boats on our tail.'

~

Dixon sat in her cabin, hand folded neatly in her lap as she gazed out of the port hole. The boat had began to judder away from the docks, and gentle waves lapped at the glass.

She wished she were with Lysandra right now. The courtesan had been a lovely friend - and Dixon felt quite lonely without her. Too bad she couldn't accompany Lysandra and Ren to the Ruhn Mountains where the Wolf of the North, General Ashryver, would be beginning his journey back to Rifthold.

Instead she'd been asked by Nehemia to join four other rebels in the hope of forming an allegiance with the Pirate Lord. A privilege, considering she once had been a nobody from Melisande, she supposed.

The door swung open and she jumped. A man with a head of raven coloured hair and eyes as blue as ice walked it - then stopped upon seeing her. He wore rags that the beggars wore - and his face was smudged with mud.

Dixon scrambled to her feet and bowed. 'Your-'

The crown prince laughed. 'Get up.' The order wasn't harsh or rude in the least, and his voice was kind, yet she still blushed as she rose to her feet.

'I didn't know you would be joining us.'

He laughed again and sat down on the bunk opposite hers. 'I didn't know, either.'

She cocked her head curiously. 'Why are you here?' Then as if remembering her place, she suddenly ducked her head and drew back.

'Please don't do that,' the prince said, embarrassed. 'I don't mind. Curiosity is good, and I often don't get to talk much to others.'

Dixon kept silent.

'What's your name?' the prince asked.

'Oh- I- I'm Dixon.'

He smiled. 'That's a very nice name, and I don't mean it in the way that I say to court ladies. It has a very unique ring to it. You're also very beautiful.'

A/N: too bad he's gay

Dixon's cheeks burned, and she wanted nothing better to drag her hair in front on her eyes as a curtain. Her hands wandered up to fiddle with stray strands of long, black hair.

'How old are you, Dixon?'

'Sixteen,' she replied nervously. There was a three year age difference between them.