1st Draft Fridays - A Fistful of Deception: Book #4, Chronicles of Marsdenfel

Year 253 of the Bynding - @ boat - Harvestime, part II

I glance at Aldrik. He’d follow us to the grave, if it came to that.

Stretching isn’t easy on a ship, and the dizziness sabotages my balance, but I do manage to loosen a few muscles and then rub my eyes. “Ale,” I say spryly though I feel anything but. “They’ll serve that at supper.”

Aldrik doesn’t answer for a long moment. “The child?”

Paöthen had believed mothers-to-be needed to abstain, too. “General consensus around the world is that heavy consumption is what causes problems. Anyway, I’m not going to drink it straight—that would dehydrate me further. I’ll mix some in water.” I pause. Making my condition public could cause more problems down the road, if I’m recognized, but Aldrik blatantly abstaining or demonstrating he’s an alcoholic would likely cause more altogether. We already have targets on our backs. If it’s a question between me making known I’m vulnerable or Aldrik gaining more enemies…

It’s no choice. “Drink the same,” I suggest with an amused smile. “Show a little solidarity.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “And tell the world you’re pregnant.”

This is one instance where I wish he weren’t so quick-witted. The smile, I keep on my face; my voice, pleasant. “Pregnancy’s temporary.”

“They’ll assume I keep you around because you’re my lover. That can’t be good for you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I played a part,” I say dryly. “Relax, Alder. You’re fretting over spilt water.”

A smile flashes over his face, and he glances away. “You’re worried.”

“Concerned,” I correct blandly. “Forgive me if I’m not in the habit of traveling with—”

Familiar magic starts in the room beside us. I immediately stop before Doff hears anything and raise my eyebrows at Aldrik.

“With a king?” he snaps.

Is he insane? Doff just heard that!

“Forgive me, Tully—”

I slap him too late, curse, and spring for the door. I’ve it unlatched and open before Aldrik catches up, and I twist away before he can get a good grasp on me.

Magic spikes, and the fight with Aldrik means I don’t get a good breath in before I lose the ability entirely. I ram the door separating me from Doff, but his magic’s keeping it sealed. One of the few times when being a felf would’ve been a lot more useful to me.

Aldrik freezes a moment, then joins me beside the door. I shake my head—I need one of the swords, something to tear the boards—

And his own magic lashes out and snatches the water from the air elemental inside the room before Doff even thinks to guard against that.

I blink once at him, startled by the reminder why humans are so much better than elves at mage duels, as Doff’s body hits the floorboards with a thud, followed promptly by pounding feet above us.

Aldrik and I manage to force open the door and be beside Doff’s body before the first crewman downs the latter, and I barely manage to get behind Aldrik and muss myself up before the man enters, too. No time to figure out which emotion to fake. I hate emergency assassinations.

“Captain!” the crewman blurts. “Someone’s…” His eyes dart from me, to Aldrik, to the husk that remains of Doff, and cycles back around in no particular order.

The hall down here is packed with seamen by the time the captain finally forces his way through.

Aldrik’s expression is almost as calm as mine, but wariness colors it. “Might we discuss this with you in private, sir?”