Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I should feed her. Probably. That’s what one does with a wife, yes? “Are you hungry? I can get fish.”
“I don’t want to be a bother…but I’m absolutely famished.” She grimaces. “If you could show me how to get my own fish, perhaps I can hunt for myself…”
“Soon. Not today.” I don’t like the purple showing up under her eye. I stroke my fingers over her chin again. “Stay here in the tent. Akara’s going to start moving and I want you hidden until we leave the shore.”
She nods. “Where are we going?”
“To my home.” Home means many different things to one of the seakind. I haven’t yet entirely decided where we’re going, so the vagueness of the answer suits me. For now, she simply needs to know that we are leaving the shore—and the fishermen—behind.
And if I see them again before we leave, I will gut them and leave their innards for the gulls to pick through.
Chapter
Eight
VALI
Ranan is impossible to read. I don’t know what to make of him. He’s promised to talk more, and yet he dives into the waters and retreats over and over again, spending most of his day away from me. He brings more raw fish for me to eat, and when I ask him to show me how to gut it and prepare it properly, he dismisses my request. Later, is all he says.
When the sun sets and it grows cold, he comes into the tent and wraps himself around me, still silent.
Well, he did say he doesn’t talk much.
Lying in Ranan’s arms does make the hard floor—the turtle’s back, I remind myself—a bit more comfortable. There’s fluffy, tufted moss growing on the shell outside of the tent but nothing inside it, which makes the “floor” feel like stone. The sea-ogre puts his arms (all four of them) around me, caging me against him, my back to his front. I tuck one of my hands under my cheek and wait for him to make a move.
If I’m his wife, as he says, he’ll want me to fulfill my wifely duties and serve him in bed. I know from past experience that most men want something when they get into bed with you, and I wait for him to give me a signal—a suggestive touch, a tug on my clothing, something.
Yet there is nothing from Ranan. Again, I don’t know how to read him.
I stare into the dark, wide awake, and decide to press my luck and ask a few questions. “Are we far from shore?”
He takes a moment to respond. “Not too far.”
“I see.”
“Don’t try to escape.” His voice is harsh and annoyed, and my shoulders tense. He notices my reaction and adds, “If you want to go to shore, I will take you, that’s all. You can’t swim.”
Here I thought I was a decent swimmer. “I’m not going to run for it. There’s nowhere for me to go. My parents are gone, and my land destroyed by Aventine soldiers. If they hear Parness in my accent, they’ll enslave me. If someone thinks I’m a runaway slave, they’ll enslave me. Gods, even if they just see a woman alone, they’ll enslave me. I’m safer with you.”
He grunts. “I know nothing of humans other than they like to carry gold on their ships, but it seems unfair to you.”
“Very,” I agree. “But that is the world we live in.”
He grunts.
I take the lull of conversation to ease into a new topic. “What made you want a bride, Ranan?”
It’s silent for so long that I worry I’ve offended him all over again. But he sighs and then says, “It was a sudden decision.”
That’s…not much of an answer. Something tells me it’s all I’m going to get from him tonight, though. Clearly Ranan does not like to share his feelings. There are many reasons why someone would seek out a bride. Another set of hands to do the work, for example…though if that’s the case, I don’t think Ranan would have chosen a human. Perhaps he was lonely, I tell myself. Perhaps he wants to start a family.
Lord Vor’s mercy, I can’t imagine having a child atop a turtle’s back. I’m going to have to ask about that at some point, when Ranan is feeling more amenable. For now, I can dance around the idea. “Will you let me know what you will expect of a wife?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out myself.”
“Ah.” An honest answer, but not a particularly helpful one.
He shifts behind me, one of his hands resting on my arm and twitching. Is he touching my skin deliberately as a lead-in to something else? It’s so hard to tell. “My silence is not anger. I am…not good at expressing myself with words.” He pauses. “I am used to being alone.”