Page 16 of Avalon Tower
“Right.” Maybe inside, where I don’t see the waves, I’ll feel better.
I keep a tight grip on the rail as I cross the gently sloping deck. How long is this journey going to last? I climb up a narrow set of stairs to the quarterdeck. An ornately carved door leads to the captain’s quarters.
The moment I step inside, I instantly feel worse, the movement of the ship even more pronounced belowdecks. Raphael, however, is completely unbothered by it. He’s standing over an enormous table, staring at a map. In here, everything is burnished mahogany or brass, and the scent of the wood feels oppressive.
Only now do I realize that Viviane is behind me, practically breathing down my neck. I lean on the other side of the table, trying not to vomit.
Even though Raphael supposedly wanted to see me, he ignores me and looks at Viviane. “Everything in order?”
“Looks that way. Aleina is taking care of the rest of the group.”
“Good. Did you check on the TTCB?”
“I did. No alerts.”
“Check again. I don’t want any surprises.”
Raphael was clearly in command here.
“On it.” She steps outside.
“Close the door.” He doesn’t even look up from the map when he gives me the order. His skin is so tan, I wonder how much time he spends out here on the sea.
I close the door behind me, trying to breathe deeply. Nausea churns in my stomach, and I wonder what he’ll do if I bring up that cake all over his map.
“What’s, uh…TTCB?” I ask.
A quirked eyebrow. “None of your concern.”
Right. Okay. I suppose I don’t need to know what it is. I don’t really need to be anywhere near this ship, or near Raphael and his attitude.
I shove my nausea and my hatred down and flash an attempt at a charming smile. Though given how I feel, I suspect it looks cadaverous. “My name is Nia. Lovely to meet you. Such an impressive ship you’re commanding.”
He cocks his head, frowning. He lets the silence hang in the air, just to let me know how much he hates me.
I’ve got news for you, my friend. The feeling is mutual.
I quickly abandon the plan to charm him. Something about him makes my skin prickle with heat, and I can feel my nostrils flaring.
I take a seat across from him at the table and clutch my stomach. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to run into the Prince of Bordeaux here.” My voice twists with the intense dislike I feel. I’m shocked at the words that tumble out of my mouth.
Really, I’m usually nice.
“Yes, I remember you, too. American.” I’m not sure if the last word is a description or a derisive nickname.
Ice spreads through the air between us, and he leans closer to me across the table. So close that I can see that his silver eyes blend to a bright blue just at the edges, eyes fringed with long black lashes. I wonder if Viviane is his girlfriend. They’d go well together. Gorgeous exteriors, insufferable personalities.
“I remember you.” His expression is unreadable. “And your mother.”
My stomach tightens, and I feel a sudden urge to jump off the boat. The memory of him carrying my drunk mother up the stairs rears its ugly head, and my urge to throw up is back again in full force. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“Hard to forget.”
“Okay. So, we don’t like each other.” I glare at him. “And just so you know, I usually like almost everyone, and I don’t like upsetting people. So, it’s—”
“A high degree of loathing for me, got it.” He drums his fingertips on the table. “I don’t understand how someone like you could pull off getting these fugitives to the city, or why you would even bother.”
Someone like you. Cold fury snaps through me, making me grit my teeth. “I was going to say the same for you because you seem prone to making snap judgments about people you know very little about. And that can’t be a great quality in a leader, can it? Not to mention it would make you a shitty spy.” Something feels good about letting it all out. Is this why people argue? Is this why people get drunk and scream in the town squares? I get it now.