Chapter 35: No Time to Write Wrongs

Maeve

I went back to my room. Troy’s room, after dinner to find it spotless. The mess I had made was righted, and I noticed as I opened the drawers in the bedside tables that he had placed everything back inside, including the wadded-up papers and random rocks. I smiled to myself as I shut the drawers, looking around before thinking better of going to bed right away, and decided to visit the infirmary instead.

Cleo wasn’t there, but I found Myla still sprawled out in the bed in the center of the room, her eyes shut and mouth slightly open as she lingered in a deep, ceaseless sleep. I touched her face, then her hair, murmuring a silent prayer over her as she slumbered.

“She’ll wake up from it,” said Keaton.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, turning to find him leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “You scared me,” ! said, blood hammering in my ears.

“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be down here. Cleo’s found a friend in Meran, I’m afraid. Both talkers, those two.”

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with Cleo-”

“Well, she’s my mate’s mother. I suppose that allows for some kind of intimacy.”

The blood drained from my face as I looked up at him, then back down at Myla. “What did you just say?”

“My mate,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a single step into the room and looking down at Myla.

“No, she-”

*Why don’t we step outside for a minute, Maeve? I think the two of us have some things to talk about.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the infirmary with me close behind him, my mind reeling at his revelation.

Myla’s mate? Him? A pirate?

I suddenly remembered the strange look on his face when Myla was brought aboard the ship, how he had gone to her immediately. struggling to maintain his composure as she laid limp in the stretcher.

Crazier things have happened, I thought dismally, thinking of how shocked I had been when I found out Gemma and Ernest were mates.

Oh, Gemma. I wished she was here. She would be thrilled for Myla. And she would definitely have scolded me for being anything but happy for her.

I buried my grief, following Keaton up the many staircases until we reached the main deck.

“You’re too hard on him, you know.” Keaton was leaning on the rail, looking out over the water. His shirt was billowing in the soft breeze as the waves beat against the sides of the boat, the sails overhead pulling us further into the open water.

“He must have explained what he did to me,” I said shortly, leaning on the rail in a similar fashion, my hair still knotted in a bun on the top of my head. I was thankful for it; I didn’t like the wind whipping my hair into a tangled frenzy.

“He did. You have to realize, though, that he was expecting to find you there in Drogomor.”

“Wasn’t that the whole point? Pretending to be my breeder to gain access to the castle?”

Keaton looked at me for a long moment, then looked away, sighing. “He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, I’m not understanding you.” i tapped my fingernails on the railing. growing impatient. I had already tried to ask about his mate bond with Myla, but he had quickly changed the subject, the pain of her injury and state of being etched into his face. I didn’t push the subject, even though I wanted to

“I’ve known Troy for a very long time, Maeve. If he had known what was going to happen, he wouldn’t have set foot on Valoria, you have my word.”

“Your word means nothing to me.”

“You’re a real peach. I can see why Troy likes you.” Keaton smirked, his eyes a deep greenish-gold in the twilight sky.

“He doesn’t. He doesn’t know me, not anymore. That Maeve died in Drogomor.”

13:46

Chapter

No Time to Write Wrongs

“Well, that’s rather ominous.” He pushed against the railing, facing me.

t’s true.copy right hot novel pub