The ship rocked gently beneath Yara's feet as she stepped onto the deck, the cool sea breeze tugging at her cloak. The scent of salt filled her lungs, mingling with the rich, damp wood of the ship.
Around her, the Siren's Kiss was alive with movement. The crew worked with efficiency, securing lines, adjusting the sails, and calling to one another in rough, loud voices.
She had never been on a ship before.
It should have been unsettling. She had expected it to be. Yet, strangely, she felt fine.
It was Val who had suffered instead.
She glanced toward the stairs leading below deck, where he was resting. The thought of him—strong, unshakable Val—felled by nothing more than the ocean's rolling waves was almost amusing. Almost. If he weren't so miserable.
A chuckle drew her attention.
"If I were a betting man, I'd have put coin on you getting sick before him."