Raed paused as he came up the stairs of the quarterdeck. She had to be aware of his presence, but she did not turn. As he watched, Sorcha flicked the remains of her cigar over the side. “Well, that was the last one of those.” She sighed theatrically. “I have some in my cabin,” he offered, walking over to stand at her back. “I acquired them off a pirate captain.” Sorcha glanced up at him. “No honor among thieves, then?” Raed laughed despite himself. This Deacon was as prickly as a desert cactus. Leaning on the gunwales, he stared over the ice. It was beautiful in a threatening kind of way, like shattered gleaming glass as far as the eye could see. “I don’t suppose you are going to be able to careen your ship now.” Sorcha pulled her legs up close to her on the bench in a curiously childlike gesture. “Now, that would be rather foolish under the circumstances.”
