service of my government.”
“It’s all the same to us. We’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“Have you.” She pushed on Chetri’s arm until it lowered and he stepped back to sheathe his blade. “Unless you are accusing me of piracy now, you will leave my ship.”
CHAPTER SIX
MAXIME HAD NEVER FEARED ENCLOSED SPACES, but as time passed, he felt more and more confined in his narrow cubby. The bottom wasn’t padded, and though he didn’t feel any splinters, it wasn’t comfortable, either. The trapdoor pressed entirely too close to the end of his nose, now numbed to the smell of balsam; his breath returned to him, forcing him to tell himself that he was not suffocating. It only felt as if there was no air. He could feel air: warmish, stale air, flowing across the soles of his feet. He could also feel the trapdoor against his chest if he took too deep a breath. Perhaps he was lucky he wore only trousers; if he’d been wearing his usual layers of clothing, this cubby would be considerably more stifling.
He opened his eyes. That was a little better. There was no light in the cubby, but it made him feel better anyway.
He’d heard quite a lot of noise from above: pounding feet in large numbers, a wooden thumping as of something heavy rocking into Seaflower’s hull, more feet. Then silence, until he heard more steps, closer, and the welcome sounds of someone wrenching open the trapdoor above his head.
As soon as the door was opened, he said, “I’ve had about enough of this game.”
Chetri stared down at him without answering, brown face studiously blank, light playing on his necklaces and array of silver earrings, many more than any courtier would wear. Despite all his adornments, he clearly had no fear of anyone’s branding him a dandy. He extended a hand, layered in calluses, to pull Maxime up.
Maxime was impressed there seemed to be no effort involved, despite the fact that he was considerably larger than Imena’s first mate. He eyed Chetri’s muscular chest, decorated across the pectorals with dense black tattooing. He wondered how much Imena liked looking at such a fine specimen of a man, day in and day out. “How far out to sea have we gone?”
Chetri looked him up and down slowly, without answering. “Come along,” he said. When Maxime didn’t follow, he grabbed his hand and tugged him.
Maxime soon discerned they were returning to his belowdecks cell. He said, “I shouldn’t be away for this long. Much as I’d prefer to stay, I’m expecting a royal envoy any day now.”
“I’ll fetch you out later on,” Chetri said, gently pushing him into his cell with a hand on his back.
Maxime grasped Chetri’s shoulder to stop him from closing the door. Imena would be displeased if Maxime seduced him. At the moment, he was in the mood to cause her displeasure. “You don’t need to lock me in here.”
“I suspect I do have to lock you in here,” Chetri said with a wry twist to his mouth.
Maxime tightened his hand on Chetri’s shoulder, squeezing gently and sensually. “Perhaps we could both be locked in here.”
Chetri turned his head and nipped at Maxime’s fingers. “I don’t trust myself, and I don’t trust you further than I could throw you, Your Grace.”
“You wouldn’t be sorry. I suspect you have no aversion to men. Wise of you.”
Chetri grinned. “And I’m sure you’d make it worth my while, is that it?” Gently, he dislodged Maxime’s hand and stepped back. “You’ll be a handful for the captain, that you will.” Easily fending off Maxime’s lunge, he slammed the door closed, calling through it, “I’ll bring you something to read later. A nice philosophical volume.” A moment later, Maxime heard the noise of the lock and chain.
It hadn’t been polite to try to seduce her second-in-command when he was hoping to convince her that she ought to marry him, but did she really expect him to play the innocent virgin and wait patiently for her attentions? Otherwise, why make him wait so long?
Unless she knew what he’d done with Sylvie. Maxime sighed. That had been a mistake, too. It wouldn’t do him any good to explain that it had been nothing to Sylvie, and that he’d been thinking of Imena throughout most of it. Despite knowing Sylvie, and what Sylvie was like, Imena wouldn’t be pleased with him for giving in, not at all.
Yes, that could be the reason for his current imprisonment. Imena knew about his brief encounter with Sylvie, and she planned to make him pay. But couldn’t she have chosen a more … pleasant revenge?
He refused to consider that Imena might not care at all.
Maxime grimaced, sat on the blanket and tore off a hunk of bread.
This bit of ocean was far too crowded for Imena’s liking. It made sense that every courier cutter and fishing trawler would be taking advantage of the wind, but that also meant every one of them would spot Seaflower with her distinctive imperial rigging and duchy profile. While Chetri sent the crew through a series of complex maneuvers designed to get them out of the most trafficked sea lanes, Imena sat in her cabin and labored over her charts, deliberately putting off talking to Maxime. He would be furious that she’d swept him away out of danger without telling him. She didn’t want to face that right now. She didn’t want to face him, after what they’d done in the baths, and what she’d briefly felt there.
Here, she could work in peace for a while. She had the largest cabin on Seaflower, furnished with a spacious wooden bunk projecting from one wall, two trunks to serve as seats, and her worktable and chair. One bulkhead was lined with a row of glassed-in windows, the others decorated with painted screens of historical battles. Several books and a new length of hempen rope, which Norris would use for drying clothes, were piled in a basket near the door, waiting to be stowed, distracting her from the charts spread in front of her.
The problem was, she had no idea how long Maxime would be in danger. He was safe belowdecks, but he would be wild with curiosity about the situation right now, and angry. Rightly so. Angry with her.
Sylvie would pass on the vital information about the plot to Lady Gisele, and hopefully Gisele would be able to stall any royal envoys who traveled to the castle, but Maxime himself was still in the dark.
Doubtless he’d figured out something had happened. He was no fool, and would know she only had his best interests at heart. He wouldn’t be angry for long. He could wait.
Imena returned her thoughts to navigation. Remaining on the open sea seemed the safest option, but just to be safe, she reminded herself of available ports, official or otherwise, on the heading she planned. She scribbled down her preferred course, then two options, with some side notes to Chetri, then fastened the paper firmly onto the corner of a table. Carefully, she rolled and stowed her charts in their waterproof casings. She couldn’t put off talking to Maxime for much longer. She would go and speak to him immediately after she’d been up to pass on her orders.
Chetri said, “We’re not fully provisioned. We got the extra spars loaded last night, but we’re lacking some of the supplies I’d like to have, if we’re to stay out for as long as you fear.”
“You think I’m being too cautious?” she asked.
He considered, stroking his fingers over the hilt of his dagger. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t trust royalty, especially not when money’s involved. And that’s what it’s really about—His Highness wants control of His Grace because then he’ll have control of a duchy stuffed with coin.”
“If it is King Julien.”
“If not him, then his flunky,” he said. “They’re all corrupt—well, aside from His Grace. He’s fair and honest in his dealings. Will we be getting word from that Sylvie girl? Will she really be able to uncover this plot? She puked the whole time she was aboard that one time.”
“Her Grace the Duchess Camille relies upon Sylvie,” Imena reminded him. “She’s