Warning: the first half of this chapter contains heavy smut.
It took Reaver's throat another two days to recover, and the better part of a week passed before Garth's stitches could be pulled. The cuts had been severe, even though they weren't particularly deep; after all, the skin had been pulled from his flesh.
Reaver watched this time, as Oakfield's doctor delicately snipped the fine twine. Garth found it easy to sit still as stitches were getting removed; on the odd occasion that it did hurt, it was only a quick, sharp sting.
"You know, I've needed more stitches since coming to live here than I've ever had in my entire life," Garth commented lightly. Reaver, who was leaning against the wall, watching the doctor closely, shrugged.
"That's hardly my fault, is it?" he replied flatly. Garth chuckled.
"You misunderstand me. I'm not blaming you at all."
"Ah, so it's this 'I wish I stayed in Samarkand' thing again?" Reaver's gaze shifted to Garth's face. He was amazingly perceptive, sometimes. Garth had been sure to keep any woebegone notes out of his voice. "You know, surely, that they would have found you there eventually. They are irritatingly persistent that way." He flashed Garth a grin. "Besides, if you had stayed there you would have missed out on yours truly! How would you have been able to live with yourself?"
Garth shook his head. "Technically, this wouldn't have happened, so I wouldn't know what I'm 'missing out on'." he pointed out. Reaver scowled.
"Keep your logic to yourself, Mage." he said haughtily, and Garth laughed at him.
Sparrow was due to arrive in a day's time, which meant that their precious recovery and relaxation time would come to an end. Sparrow would insist on taking action, even when he didn't know all the details; throwing himself in the deep end and hoping he wouldn't get caught in a rip was what Sparrow did.
Garth had spent the last few days pouring over book after book, trying to find out as much as he could about the Normanomicon. But in spite of the endless sea of information on its history and its evil, no one seemed to have recorded its current resting place. Garth's frustration was growing steadily.
"Mage, let it go," Reaver had implored in exasperation when Garth pushed away yet another book. "Wait until Mister Fix-It arrives. He's supposedly the great adventurer; perhaps he knows something about it."
"And if he doesn't?" Garth muttered. He reached for the next book, and Reaver huffed loudly in irritation.
"Keep this up then. I don't care!" And with that he stormed out of the study, well and truly proving otherwise.
Garth realised now why Reaver had been acting so sulky: he was being ignored. Garth had barely paid any attention to him since returning from Rookridge. He hadn't been doing it on purpose, but he supposed it was a lesson in humility for the Thief. Unfortunately, Reaver wasn't taking it well.
Reaver was giving Garth the silent treatment. He had probably been doing it for the past few days, but Garth hadn't realised until this morning. Sadly for Reaver, it wasn't the insult he had hoped it would be; Garth was endlessly amused by his childish tantrum.
He supposed he needed to apologise to Reaver though. He knew what he had in mind would more than make it up to the Thief.
It had taken him all day to psyche himself up for what he was going to do. Even now, as he descended carefully their shared home's staircase, insecurity and embarrassment welled up inside him. His mind screamed at him to turn around, to clean and take care of himself upstairs before apologising verbally to his lover. But he didn't. He was determined to do this.
Reaver was lounging about in the sitting room, reading by lamplight. Garth crept over to him - his size really was an asset sometimes - and plucked the book from his hands. He went to replace it on the shelf.
"Hey!" Reaver protested, forgetting his usual aristocratic vernacular in his surprise. He moved to take back the book, but Garth grabbed his wrist and, with the help of a Force Push spell, slammed him up against the wall and pressed their lips together.
Reaver made a surprised noise but soon responded to the kiss, raking his free hand down Garth's arm, his fingers lingering over the larger Will scars. Garth forced himself to keep his cool - he was not here to be dominated by the Thief - and he used another Force Push spell to effectively pin Reaver against the wall. Reaver blinked down at him breathlessly.
"We're going to play a little game," Garth murmured against his lips. He pulled away just enough to see the Thief's flushed face.
"I like games." Reaver breathed at length, evidently unable to think of anything else to say. Garth chuckled.
"If I can pin you over there-" he jerked his head to where a cushioned bench rested against the wall underneath the window "-I get to fuck you in front of that window."
Reaver's breathing quickened. He loved it when Garth swore, and he clearly liked the sound of Garth's game. "In that case, my prize had better be fantastic, Mage, because at the moment I don't particularly want to win."
Garth chuckled again. "If you can get me upstairs, you can tie me to the bed and fuck me there," he answered simply.
Reaver's eyes widened as he stared at Garth in shock. "Really?"
"Yes." The idea made him nervous, but Garth trusted Reaver enough now to let him do it. Reaver would take it slow, he wouldn't do anything that he knew would make Garth panic. Garth smirked up at him. "Well?"
Reaver's eyes darted over to the window. Garth knew he was calculating his chances. "Your location is closer," he complained breathlessly.
"You have a size advantage over me," Garth pointed out. Reaver pouted.
"You have a Will advantage."
Garth laughed again. He leaned up to kiss Reaver again. "You'll just have to deal with that," he murmured against the Thief's lips.
Reaver worked his wrist from Garth's grasp and pushed him backwards, not once breaking the kiss as he tore at Garth's coat's fastenings. Garth raked one hand through Reaver's hair - a move that he knew always distracted the Thief - and moved the other hand down to unlace Reaver's trousers. He was already hard, Garth noted triumphantly. Once unlaced, he slipped his hand inside and danced his fingers over Reaver's inner thigh, using his Shock spell like he had at the Rookridge Inn.
This time he was able to see Reaver's face. It twisted with pain and pleasure as he moaned loudly, his hands clutching the front of Garth's coat where they had been unbuttoning it. Garth took the chance to push him back towards the window, covering half the distance before Reaver realised was he was doing and dug his heels into the floor.
"Not so easy, Mage," he growled roughly. He tore Garth's coat from his body and tossed it aside carelessly. He raked his fingers over Garth's abs before kneeling to replace them with his tongue, his hands working the lacing on Garth's trousers deftly.
Garth gasped at the feeling of his tongue, moaned at the sight of having Reaver on his knees before him, but refused to give in. Reaver was thrown onto his back as Garth used yet another Force Push spell. Garth concentrated, using a small Blade spell to slice Reaver's shirt off him - he knew Reaver wouldn't care, it wasn't one of his favourite shirts - and followed him to the floor, pinning his wrists above his head as their lips met in another kiss. Reaver bucked his hips up against Garth's and Garth broke the kiss.
"Oh, Mage, just fuck me here," Reaver groaned desperately, grinding his hips up again.
"No," Garth growled forcefully, pulling away just enough so that Reaver couldn't get the friction he so clearly craved.
Reaver cried out in frustration and broke free of Garth's grasp. He sat up and pushed Garth's chin up to give him access to his Will scarred neck. His hands caressed Garth's chest and Garth moaned, allowing himself to give into the sensations for just a moment.
"I've just about had it with you," Reaver hissed. He stood, pulling Garth up with him, and Garth dimly realised that the Thief was trying to pick him up. In a last ditch attempt to distract him, Garth pushed his hand into Reaver's trousers, wrapped it around his erection, and used the smallest Shock spell he could.
Reaver's cry was deafening. His fingers bit bruising into Garth's shoulders as he hunched forward, his head resting in the crook of Garth's neck. "Fuck, Garth!" he moaned loudly, driving his hips forward.
One last Force Push spell was all Garth needed to send Reaver sprawling onto the bench chair. Reaver looked at him through hooded eyes, a ghost of his usual grin on his face. Garth leaned over him, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips.
"Do I win?" he asked lowly.
Reaver took a shuddering breath. "Yes," he replied.
Garth smirked. He had been preparing himself for this all day, of course he won. "Then turn over," he ordered, his fingers caressing Reaver's cheek gently. "And brace yourself against the window."
Reaver didn't bother hiding his eagerness as he did as he was told. Garth pushed his trousers down to his knees, but when Reaver went to kick them off Garth gave his backside a chastising slap.
"They stay there," he ordered as Reaver moaned and pressed his cheek against the window.
Garth's trousers were already partly unlaced from Reaver's attempts earlier. He finished the job and drew out his erection, already protected and lubricated. Much of the lotion had rubbed off on the inside of his trousers, but he had learned that Reaver didn't need too much. Hell, he didn't even need preparing. But when Garth positioned himself at Reaver's entrance, the Thief made a sound of protest as he twisted around to look at Garth. Garth chuckled.
"I put one on upstairs," he said simply. Reaver gaped at him.
"Am I to understand that you allowed me to sit down here as you touched yourself upstairs?" he said indignantly, and Garth knew he was about to be on the receiving end of a rant. "You sly dog, of all the… Not that I don't appreciate the preparation that went into this, but if you're going to jack off in the house, at least tell me so that I can wa- Okay."
Garth cut him off effectively by thrusting forward, burying himself to the base inside Reaver. Reaver groaned softly and bit his lip, pressing his cheek against the cool window again. Garth pulled out, angled himself the way Reaver had taught him, and this time his thrust was rewarded with a loud moan.
Garth continued, oblivious to everything but Reaver. There was a squeak: Reaver had propped himself up against the window with one hand; a particularly loud moan: Garth had reached around and began to stroke Reaver; a hand tangling in his hair: Reaver was clutching him tightly; a salty taste on his tongue: he was kissing Reaver's shoulder. All of it combined with the scent of mild cologne and sweat and that very peculiar smell which could only be described as sex, and the intense heat all around him, Garth felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge with every moment.
"You said once," Reaver panted; he sounded just as far gone as Garth, "That living together didn't make us friends."
He had said that, hadn't he? When he had first arrived, after accepting Reaver's invitation to stay with him. It seemed so long ago now; he hadn't even liked Reaver back then. The arrangement had been a matter of convenience, one that he could back out of when it grew tiresome. Now, Reaver would have to tell him to leave before Garth went anywhere. That, or kill him.
Garth chuckled breathlessly. "What of it?" he gasped. "I think we're a bit beyond the 'friends' label now."
Reaver glanced over his shoulder, his cheeks pink and his eyes clouded with lust. "So, still not friends then?" he asked cheekily.
Garth laughed at the absurdity of it all - he really didn't understand Reaver's mind sometimes - and thrust harder, more erratically. Reaver's moans developed into screams and in between them he urged Garth on vulgarly.
"That's it, Mage! Harder! Put on a show for the entire worthless fucking town!"
Garth's fingers dug into Reaver's hips, hard enough to bruise, and he gave Reaver's erection a particularly hard, rough stroke. Reaver arched, pushing himself up so that his back was against Garth's chest, and he clutched onto Garth's arm as he climaxed with a cry.
The spasming body against his was enough to push Garth over the edge. With a final deep thrust he came, muffling his moan by biting down on Reaver's shoulder. Reaver moaned at the contact.
The stillness that followed was a sharp contrast as both men tried to catch their breaths. Garth pulled out of Reaver and carefully removed the soiled condom, wrinkling his nose with distaste as he trudged over to the coffee table, retrieved a tissue and wrapped it inside it.
Reaver slumped down from the seat onto the floor, somehow managing to look elegant even as he sprawled himself out. His grin told Garth that he was thoroughly sated. "What brought that on, Mage?" he asked curiously. Garth chuckled.
"The sudden and intense desire to put you back in your place," he answered simply. Reaver beckoned him over, and Garth sat on the floor next to him.
"Was it really so hard?" Reaver teased, and Garth scoffed at him.
"I was psyching myself up for it all day." he confessed. Reaver laughed.
"It wasn't all that sudden, then." His arm curled around Garth's shoulders and Garth was pulled up against him. He rested his head on Reaver's shoulder. "I'll win next time," Reaver told him confidently.
Garth shook his head. "Next time may be a while off," he warned. "Sparrow is due to arrive tomorrow. Who knows what he has planned?"
"There is always time for sex." Reaver said solemnly, and Garth laughed.
**
Hammer was not amused, and Reaver was. She was acting like a child that had been left out of playtime, and it was all because Reaver and Garth's window antics were the talk of the town. Only, it seemed that no one would say what those antics actually were.
"Seriously, people are either amused, disgusted, or…" she trailed off, gnawing at her lip uncomfortably. Reaver revelled in her discomfort like a kid in a candy store.
"Horny?" he suggested, and Hammer shot him a mortified look.
"Okay, what were you two doing?"
To his credit, Garth was completely calm. He watched over a mug of cool apple juice as Hammer blustered, his face completely expressionless. When Hammer rounded on him, he looked so innocent that it was almost impossible to believe he had taken Reaver for the whole town to see the night before. Reaver was faintly proud of him; not so long ago, Garth would have been blushing furiously at this conversation. Reaver realised he was something of an influence on his Mage.
"You needn't worry too much about it, Hammer," he said calmly, still clutching the mug. He was keeping his hands preoccupied to keep himself from fiddling self-consciously, Reaver knew. "Though if I were you, I'd stay away from the sitting room's front window. Reaver made quite a mess of it last night."
Reaver had to struggle greatly to hold back his laughter. Finally, he managed an indignant huff as he glared at Garth. "It's your fault, Mage. I didn't have a choice in the matter. Besides, yourefused to clean it up!"
Garth shrugged. "You weren't complaining at the time," he said simply. "And it's your bodily fluids on the window, not mine. You clean it up."
"I don't want to hear anymore!" Hammer cried, and Reaver didn't hold back his roar of laughter this time. Garth looked faintly amused as he took another sip of his drink. "Oh, Sparrow, get here soon! Save me from these lunatics!"
"You're welcome to join us on any night," Reaver suggested lightly. Hammer flushed brightly.
"Three's a crowd," she said quickly. Garth began to chuckle.
"Reaver would beg to differ."
"That I would, my dear Mage." Reaver was elated to see that Garth was enjoying this as much as he. After all, with Mister Scowls-a-Lot on the way, they needed as much fun as they could get. Reaver was in no hurry to fight, not after the Temple of Shadows. Having to watch Garth scream in agony, eyes screwed shut, arms jerking desperately as he tried to break free of his captors still haunted Reaver. At least when he killed someone, he made it quick.
"If I care any less about what Reaver thinks, I'll pass out." Hammer said flatly. Reaver sighed dramatically.
"Oh, you heard what she said, Mage!" he cried. "You heard! Cruel maiden, I offer my fragile heart to you on a platter, and you devour it mercilessly!" The other two snorted.
"So your heart lies in the bedroom," Garth said thoughtfully. "This explains a few things."
"Or by the front window," Hammer muttered, and the two men descended into laughter.
The front door was flung open with a crash, announcing Sparrow's arrival and effectively silencing any further banter between the three Heroes. Sparrow's boots fell heavy on the wooden floor, and as soon as he reached the dining room he rounded on Reaver.
"What the hell did you do to him," he began slowly, incredulously, "that would make him want to have sex with you in front of the whole of Oakfield?"
"Nothing!" Reaver said innocently, and Garth began to chuckle again.
"To be fair, Sparrow, only two or three people actually saw it," Hammer mumbled. "But something like that makes for great gossip."
"Right." Sparrow ran his hand through his hair. He looked terrible. Dark circles ran deep underneath his eyes, his hair was limp, and his complexion was pallid. When he sat, he flopped down into the chair with a bone deep exhaustion that Reaver knew came from being a parent with a critically injured child. The exhaustion would only disappear once the child was fully healed.
"How is she?" Hammer asked gently. Sparrow sighed heavily.
"Awake. She hasn't gotten out of bed yet." He stretched in the seat, resting his head against the back of the chair, exposing his neck and collarbone more clearly. His skin looked clammy.
"And Keiran?" Garth asked quietly, and Reaver glanced at him blankly. This was news. He hadn't known the boy was injured, though he supposed it really shouldn't have surprised him. The lad was far too brash and impetuous when he fought; it was bound to cost him sooner or later.
"Healed. He's fine." Sparrow's eyes were closed now, his arms hanging limply by his sides. "Alex nearly killed me." Of that, Reaver had no doubt. He could only imagine her reaction when he arrived home with not one, but two injured children.
"But it wasn't your fault!" Hammer protested, and Sparrow shrugged.
"I let those Spire Guards sneak up on us. I should have been paying attention." he said bluntly.
Reaver had had enough of this pity party. Though he understood far too well the attraction of playing the blame game with oneself - he played it just about every night, after all - there was a time and a place for it. Wailing in front of others was weak, pitiful, and left you open for manipulation. Reaver cleared his throat, indicating that they should all pay attention to him now.
"Shall we move on to why we're actually here?" he suggested to Sparrow shortly. Hammer gave him a sharp look and even Garth frowned disapprovingly, but Sparrow nodded.
"I went back to the Temple of Shadows," he muttered. "Not a Guard in sight. They've moved."
"Sparrow, they told Reaver that they're after the Normanomicon." Garth said. Sparrow glanced at him.
"The book that raises the dead?" he asked, and Garth nodded. To everyone's surprise, Sparrow gave a short, hollow laugh. "I know where that is. I can get it within two days. Besides, it appears to only invoke the undead, not bring people back to life. Speaking from experience here."
"Oh, is it story time?" Reaver asked sardonically. "Or are you going to leave us to wonder as you so often do?"
"Just for that, wonder." Sparrow snarled. He glanced at Garth. "Well?"
"I've read much about the Book of the Extremely Dead." Garth said plainly. "There are arguments for and against what you just said. I'd have to see it for myself to confirm that belief."
"Then I'll bring it to you before I hide it again." Sparrow replied. "I'd destroy it, but apparently I'd be cursed if I did. In any case, unless they can find it within the next few days, the book is nothing to worry about."
"The Book of the Extremely Dead, you say?" Reaver mused lightly. "I wonder how many times one must die before one can be considered extremely dead?" He looked at Sparrow. "Surely you qualify for that title." he said shortly.
Sparrow actually looked faintly amused. "What an honour." he said dryly. "I've yet to receive my award, though. Anyway, what concerns me is where the Spire Guards are hiding now. They're certainly not at the old Temple anymore."
"Think, Sparrow." Hammer urged hopefully. "Is there anywhere they could be now? A place where they can stay without getting noticed?"
Sparrow sighed and rested his head back against the chair again. "I've really thought about this." he admitted. "I can honestly say that I have no idea. I can't think of anywhere that they might be."
Hammer's air of hope deflated and she sunk back into her chair. Garth stared down into his now empty mug silently, and Sparrow kept his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Reaver sighed. As usual, it was all up to him to pull this party out of their pity.
"There is someone who could tell us." he said, looking expectantly at Sparrow. "What happened to that irritating blind-but-sadly-not-mute woman?"
Sparrow opened his eyes, startled. "Theresa?" he said. "Last I saw her, she was in the Spire."
"I assume that's why the Spire Guards have yet to return there," Garth muttered. "That woman knows magic far beyond the boundaries of my knowledge. This time, I'd like to keep it that way."
Hammer looked at him in surprise. "Why? All knowledge is worth having!" she insisted. Garth smiled wryly.
"Perhaps. But sometimes the consequences aren't worth it." Hammer blinked at him, as though she hadn't thought of that.
"The only way to get to the Spire is by ship," Sparrow said, and he looked at Reaver pointedly. Reaver scowled. So Sparrow completely abolished Albion's best pirate port, threatened Reaver with death if a pirate even stepped a foot into Oakfield, and now he was expecting Reaver to help him? He glared at Sparrow with open hatred. He knew where his old crew were now, of course - these days, they preferred to dock in Eire, Albion's neighbouring country - but that didn't mean Reaver was going to call on them. He was actually fond of a few of those men, and he didn't trust Sparrow not to kill them once he had what he wanted.
Sparrow caught sight of his face and sighed in despair. "Please, Reaver," he begged. "A Hero has to make this journey, I can feel it, and you're the only one that can captain a ship."
"Then have one of your lawmen sail you out there," Reaver snarled. "No. I'll have nothing to do with it."
"They don't know the waters like you do!" Sparrow insisted. "You're a far better sailor than anyone!" Reaver cocked an eyebrow. Flattery? It wasn't working. He sneered at Sparrow with barely-concealed rage, and Sparrow heaved a desperate sigh. "I want to stay with my family." he admitted.
Reaver scoffed. "Oh, so you want to have your cake and eat it too?" he mocked. "Burn in hell, Sparrow. You dug your own grave on this one; you can damn well climb out of it!"
"I'm not asking you now, I'm telling you!" Sparrow lost his temper. He leapt to his feet, his Will scars glowing brighter by the moment, and Reaver was quick to stand too. Blades appeared around Sparrow's head.
"You'll go, Reaver! Even if I have to force you!" he roared, the Blades now trained on the Thief. Reaver drew his gun, but he knew he couldn't defend himself against magic. And if those Blades were anything like Garth's, they would protect Sparrow from his shots, so going on the offensive was useless too. Despite this, he sneered defiantly, his pistol aimed at the point between Sparrow's eyes.
"Try it!" he snapped, and Sparrow yelled angrily. The Blades fired. Reaver just managed to shoot away two, and prepared himself for the pain, for the almost-certain death that would come of getting skewered by so many blades at once. But it never came. The Blades shattered before they struck him, as though running into an invisible wall.
He blinked. A single Blade was floating above his head, ready to shield him again if needed. Garth hadn't moved from his seat, but his gaze was trained unblinking on Reaver, his face a mask of concentration. Reaver stared back at him in surprise. Never had he expected Garth to take an active role against Sparrow for him. Guilt stabbed him in his chest, annoying him. He had almost forgotten that they were after Garth as well as Sparrow.
How irritating. He would have to go now, lest he lose his Mage to the Spire Guards. When had he become so fond of Garth? It was infuriating.
Garth glanced at Sparrow calmly as the king rounded on him.
"You-"
"You can be more diplomatic than that." Garth said shortly, and Sparrow's rage left him as quickly as it came. He fell back into his seat, his head in his hands.
"Sparrow?" Hammer tried tentatively, her eyes wide and her knuckles white as she clutched onto the side of the table. Cautiously, Reaver tucked away his pistol, but he remained standing. Sparrow was a volatile man.
"What do you want, Reaver?" Sparrow asked heavily, not looking up. Reaver sneered.
"More freedom, of course." It wasn't fair. If he tried to live as he pleased in Albion, Sparrow would be after him. If he left Albion, the Shadow Judges would eventually come after him. He cursed the blemish on the face of humanity that was Sparrow. He couldn't win.
But he could compromise. Especially with Garth on his side. The Mage had yet to dismiss the Blade hovering above Reaver protectively. His face was unreadable as he eyed Sparrow.
"Freedom doesn't mean you can go around killing whoever you please," Sparrow murmured, and Reaver knew this was an argument he would never win. No matter how dire the situation, Sparrow would never allow an innocent to die. Unless it's to save his family's lives. Reaver noted wryly. Thousands were allowed to die then.
He shot Garth a helpless look. He had no idea what to ask for, beyond his freedom request, and he didn't want to waste this opportunity. Garth examined him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.
"Disband the town council," he said firmly. "Let Reaver run this place on his own."
Reaver stared at him in astonishment, wondering why he had ever tried to deal with Sparrow without him. Garth gave him a small smile, knowing that his request had more than thrilled Reaver.
Sparrow glanced from Garth to Reaver, and sighed heavily. "So that's it, then." he muttered. "I don't know…"
"Hammer will still be here to keep an eye on things for you," Garth said, and at that, Hammer nodded. He hadn't included himself, Reaver noted with interest. It was probably because Garth wasn't going to spy on him for Sparrow, whatever the cost. That, or he knew Sparrow wouldn't trust him fully after he defended Reaver.
"It'll be all right, Sparrow," Hammer soothed. "I know he's a cad, but he's smart enough to run this place without too much trouble!" She shot Reaver a look, as though begging him to confirm her statement, and Reaver grinned at her.
"True enough," he said, and Hammer visibly relaxed. Perhaps she wasn't so bad after all, he mused. She had certainly been tolerable this past week. He still abhorred her complete lack of femininity though.
Sparrow looked at her for a moment, undoubtedly weighing up his decision in his mind. Finally, he sighed in defeat. "Fine." he said. "Consider it gone." He didn't look happy at all. Reaver smirked at him, but resisted the urge to rub it in his face further.
"I'll pen a letter to my first mate then, shall I?" he said lightly. Truth be told, he was rather looking forward to seeing the man. Leonardo was probably the most competent man he had ever had on his crew. "Oh, and another thing: one of you will be coming with me. I'm not heading into that glorified eyesore by myself."
"I'll go," Garth said, before anyone else could reply. "Sparrow should stay with his family, and Hammer is needed here." Despite his resolve, he looked faintly sick, and something ached dully in Reaver's chest to see it. He went over to him, and rested his hand on the Mage's shoulder.
"A pleasure cruise, then!" he declared, smiling down at Garth, trying to make the man relax again. "You'll love it, Mage!"
Garth smiled faintly up at him. "Given the destination, it doesn't sound particularly pleasurable." he muttered. Reaver's expression softened and he brushed his knuckles against Garth's Will scarred cheek.
"Technically, our ultimate destination is Albion." he said, and Garth chuckled.
"I'll give you that one. But I do tend to get sea sick for the first few days."
"No matter, we have potions that can take care of that." Reaver said dismissively. He looked at Sparrow, who had been watching them with a startled expression. "My guess is it will be a week's worth of sailing before we get there?" he asked.
Sparrow frowned thoughtfully. "Eight days," he said at length. "That's how long it took us to get back, wasn't it?" He looked at Garth.
Garth nodded. "The weather had been fine, too. Though the ship wasn't exactly first-rate, and that fool of a captain…" he trailed off, shaking his head.
Reaver laughed. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he soothed, running his finger absent-mindedly around the shell of Garth's ear. "We'll be in and out of there before you know it. Now excuse me, I have a letter to write."
