Gods, had they seen what he’d been so close to? What he’d almost done without realising?

She chuckled. “Celebrate, then!”

They released a collective breath, the sound a low murmur on the wind, and turned to each other with relieved laughs, grins, hugs, slapped shoulders.

Once the attention was off her, Vee’s smile softened, and she nodded to Knigh, pulling him into a hug and clapping him on the back as if joining the celebrations. “We’re safe, Knigh,” she murmured, “all is well.”

He exhaled, a shudder rocking through him as he let his head rest on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing her. “Did I—”

“No.” Her breath tickled his ear as she stroked his back. “You didn’t hurt me. All is well.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

Holding his shoulders, she pulled back, still close enough that the blood and sweat on her filled his nostrils, metallic and sharp and tinged with something uniquely her. Eyes softer than he’d ever seen them, she looked up at him and nodded once. “You saved my life—our lives is what you did.”

“But—”

“Knighton Villiers—Blackwood—whoever you are. You saved my life. We have a treasure ship. These are things to celebrate. Understood?”

He stared back at her. He’d almost—Lords knew what he’d almost done. Again.

Her eyebrows rose.

All is well, she’d said. He’d almost, but he hadn’t. She must have seen the rage coursing through him, burning away his self-control—burning away his self, Wild Hunt damn it. She’d seen it, and she’d brought him back before he’d hurt anyone outside of battle.

Licking his lips, he nodded. “Thank you.”

Lords, Ladies, gods, he’d never meant anything as much as those two words.

Celebration

Late that afternoon, Vice smiled to herself, strolling across the white sand of a nearby island as she watched her crewmates build a bonfire. They’d put the surviving men of the Covadonga ashore on another island with the supplies from their hold, and now it and The Morrigan sat at anchor in the sheltered bay. There hadn’t been as much silver as they’d expected. That, coupled with the presence of marines, suggested the Navy had been fed information as a trap.

But it was more money than they’d had yesterday and a prize ship to present to the Queen.

Rubbing her face, she shook her head.

It had been a tough fight, and they’d lost good people. But they’d survived.

The sand was soft beneath her bare feet, the breeze fresh, and the sun warm. Yes, definitely alive.

Thanks, in large part, to Knigh.