23. Crustaceans and Cats (part 5)

When they reached to top, the crewmen were walking about the deck, completing their daily, ship-life rituals and paying no heed to the prince and captain, for no one had been alerted of their escapade, except for Captain Stirling’s finicky first mate, Persnick, who was nowhere to be seen at the moment; he was probably off somewhere concerning himself with trifling matters that he claimed to be of great importance. Tarin gallantly assisted the captain aboard her ship by seizing her round the waist and transporting her to the deck with a genial smile stretching from ear to ear across his visage. Again, her face reddened as vindictive words seethed from her lips.

“Were you born without a brain in that thick head of yours? Maybe you could have used it when you practically dropped me to the world below! Oh, wait! I forgot. You did have a brain once, but you left in on top of the sun-fogged, tallest mountain in the world with a fawning heifer whose name you can’t even remember! No, I’m sorry, there’s no chance of you recalling her name because you never asked for it in the first place! If you had only been focused enough to not lose your thoughts to that elf-skinned harpy-girl, you might have considered placing the fobbing CGTD on the enemy’s ship, and I wouldn’t have had to venture off with you unannounced and nearly fall to my death in the process!”

Withstanding the sharp poison darts being flung from the crossbow of her mouth as if they were mere downy feathers from day-old hatchlings, Prince Tarin persisted to hold a smug grin. With arched eyebrows he matched her crossed-arm stance and tilted his head, “You’re done already? I must say, your last rant was much longer.” This won him a grisly glare, which lasted all of three seconds before she turned away, sorely scowling. The prince leaned forward, sliding into her peripheral vision in attempts to gain her attention, but she refused to look his way. Shrugging, the nineteen-year old prince pivoted on his heel and sauntered away.

Elden’s head whipped around against her will and her eyes followed his every step. Snapping them closed like window shutters in a dust storm, she bit her lip, aiming to stop the words in her throat from bubbling out. She failed. “Tarin, wait!”  

The sound of his black leather boots boomed in her head as he returned to her, but she dared not reveal her pupils till they stopped before her. “Yes?” he sniggered, both of them knowing full well that she had broken her own code of conduct dealing with the addressing of people of eminence. She stared down at her own sable boots.

“Thanks.” Her voice was gruff.

            Stooping down, he simpered in her ear, “You are very welcome, Captain Stirling.” 

The End

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