Forest of Firelight by Shari L Tapscott

Author:Shari L Tapscott [Tapscott, Shari L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

20

I stand on the shore, watching the approaching dinghy. The day is clear, but the wind is strong, making the sea angry. It slaps the rocks down the beach, leaving white foam in its wake.

“I’d like to ride back to the ship,” I tell one of the crewmen after he assists the last passenger onto the dock.

“I’m not going back yet,” he says absently, grabbing a pack from the boat. “There’s only a handful of passengers left, and they’ll be comin’ on the next boat.”

When I left the ship with Tryndon early this morning, I fully intended to meet my men. They didn’t sail with us, but took the road along the coast. They should arrive in Bayshore in a day or two.

When I told my brother my plan, he claimed I was running away from Amalia and insisted he go ahead in my stead.

It’s a tangled mess I’ve made of things. The plan was good; it was solid. Now my conscience is getting the best of me, even though I still believe in the cause.

Does the end justify the means?

I should be happy things are going this well with the princess—she trusts me, doesn’t she?—but I have nothing but guilt churning in my stomach.

Several startled gasps draw my attention back to the ship. I look up just in time to see one of the ropes holding the last dinghy come loose. Only seconds pass before the crew manages to catch the rope and pull the boat back to level, but it feels like a lifetime.

Was Amalia on the boat? Of course she was, I think bitterly. She has the worst luck. The rope likely gave way simply because she was present.

Can the princess swim?

I pace the dock, waiting for the crew to finally lower the dinghy. Ages later, the small boat approaches.

As I figured, Amalia is on it. She speaks with a man next to her, giving him that smile of hers. It looks genuine, and irrational jealously rears its ugly head.

There are dozens of people milling around, the gossipy types who are waiting for details about the passengers’ almost-fall. Amalia doesn’t notice me in the crowd—her attention is focused solely on the man at her side.

He steps out of the boat. Before he can lean down to assist the princess, I step in front of him and grasp her arm just as a wave sends the dinghy lurching.

“Thank you,” she says, looking up. When she spots me, her lips—lips I kissed last night—part with surprise. “Rhys.”

My attention moves to her bleeding hand and the white handkerchief pressed against it. “You’re hurt.”

“There was a bit of a mishap.”

I glance at her new companion, wanting to tell him to move along. “I saw.”

He’s the man we saw with the courtier Amalia is hoping to avoid. How did they end up together?

I assist her from the boat, holding her arm until she’s steady on the dock.

The newcomer studies me, looking mildly curious, and then turns back to Amalia. “We’ll go to the inn, and I’ll take care of your hand there.

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