The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [217]
“You came after me,” she said quietly. “Even after all my cruelties. You didn’t let me go.”
Frey didn’t know what to say to that.
“You won’t stop trying, will you? No matter what I do.”
“No.”
Slowly, tentatively, she raised her hand, brushed her fingertips down his chest. She stared at the buttons of his coat, as if contemplating them fiercely. Then she slipped closer and pressed her body against him. Her arms slipped around his waist, and her head leaned against his shoulder. She breathed in the smell of his coat and sighed.
“Don’t,” she said.
It was as if it had been only minutes since he’d last held her, instead of a decade and more. The feel of her was familiar and new all at once. She fitted into him perfectly. For a few precious moments, everything was tranquil, and a wonderful peace spread through him. Then, as if afraid to let it last, she stepped away from him. She gave him one last look, and there was something of sadness in her gaze but something of happiness too. Then she left him.
He stood in the empty cargo hold, staring after her. Back she went, back to the Delirium Trigger, back to being the pirate queen whose body she inhabited. He knew he should feel bereft, but he didn’t. Instead, a broad smile broke out on his face.
There was hope. After all this time, there was hope. The thought of it lit him up on the inside.
His friends were alive and well and together again. His craft had been made over, better than new. The drunks were singing his praises in every tavern from here to the Samarlan border. And maybe, just maybe, Trinica didn’t want to kill him anymore.
“Frey, my boy,” he said to himself. “Things are looking up.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHRIS WOODING is thirty-four years old and is the author of eighteen books. His novels have been published around the world and translated into twenty languages. He also writes for film and television. He lives in London, UK.
www.chriswooding.com