“Of course,” I answer, gazing at him seriously. I don’t stop scratching at Trouble and Lathani’s ears – as soon as I stopped eating, they insisted on being petted again – but I focus on Loran.

  Having asked to speak, he doesn’t seem to know how to continue. Instead he drops his eyes to the tabletop and fidgets with his fingers.

  “Have you made a decision?” I prompt gently. He swallows and then nods.

  I feel the sense of resolve in the Bond a moment before he lifts his gaze again.

  “If I choose to buy out my service contract…can I still stay?”

  My eyes narrow fractionally. I want to be absolutely clear on what he’s asking before answering.

  “When you say ‘stay’, what do you mean?”

  His shoulders hunch slightly.

  “Can I continue to serve you? But…as a servant, not a slave?”

  I narrow my eyes more obviously – I can sense that something rings false in his words.

  “Be completely honest,” I instruct him. My voice isn’t harsh, but he flinches nonetheless. “Ask for what you truly want. The worst thing that will happen is I will say ‘no’. I promise I won’t…punish you or anything like that just for asking.”

  He still looks uncertain, but then steadies himself with a deep breath.

  “I want to stay as part of the pack,” he says hurriedly, almost fast enough to blur the words incomprehensibly. The emotions that wash over the Bond between us make it clear that when he says ‘pack’, he means ‘friends’ or even ‘family’. This is what was ringing false in his original request – he doesn’t want to be a servant, he wants to be one of us.

  And there’s only one answer to that.

  “Of course,” I reply, a hint of incredulity in my voice that he even needs to ask that – when he can feel the affection with which he’s held by the samurans, or the deris, or Trouble’s little pack of raptorcats.

  But Loran doesn’t seem to have heard what I said; perhaps he only heard the tone.

  “But I understand why you wouldn’t want that, and I assure you that I will not try to force myself where I’m not wanted–”

  “Loran,” I interrupt and he silences himself immediately. “We’d be very happy to have you remain as part of the pack.” Pulling away from my caresses, Trouble pads over to Loran and nudges his hand, demanding attention even as he sends vehement agreement over the Bond. Loran looks a little shell-shocked but he strokes Trouble’s head with fingers that tremble. Bastet’s head nudges at my now-free hand and I suppress an eye-roll – I don’t want Loran to misinterpret it.

  Markus is right, Catch agrees, stepping away from where he’s been leaning on the wall near River, and moving to place his massive clawed hand on Loran’s shoulder. You have proven yourself a true member of the pack. If you wish to stay, we will be happy to have you.

  “Thank you,” Loran tells him, his voice rough. There’s the faintest glitter at the corner of his eyes as he looks up at the samuran, but it’s gone a moment later when he blinks.

  I clear my throat gently to bring his attention back to me.

  “Just to be clear, are you asking to keep the Bond even after you’re free?”

  Loran eyes me for a long moment and then nods slowly.

  “Yes, sir,” I brush the Bond between us. That, at least, is honest, though I do sense a hint of nervousness about it.

  “Alright,” I accept. And then I break the chain that binds us together.

  Loran starts half out of his chair, prompting a growl of annoyance out of Trouble as his rightful worship is disturbed.

  “Sir! What–” He swallows and abruptly his face crumples with disappointment and bitterness.

  “Sorry, I should have explained,” I hurry to say, cursing myself internally. There I was being all dramatic and I neglected to think of how that would be interpreted by someone like Loran. “I’m only breaking the Dominate Bond so you can choose whether you wish to have one or not with nothing influencing your choice.”

  A faint hope passes across Loran’s face like a ray of sunlight.

  “You mean…?”

  In answer, I offer him a Companion Bond.

  “This is no longer Dominate,” I tell him seriously, “though it has some similarities. In accepting it, you offer me as much control as I could exercise with Dominate. With one difference: if you ever wish to break it, you can do so unilaterally. It is entirely your choice if you wish to accept it – only do so if you actually want it.”

  He eyes me for a long moment, not yet taking the Bond, but not rejecting it either.

  “This is what…everyone else has?”

  “Almost everyone,” I agree. “It takes trust from me too, you see – to know that the other being can break the Bond whenever they choose, and yet to trust them to be with me when I’m vulnerable.” It is a risk, but I’ve seen enough of Loran’s character to do so. A person reveals who they truly are when they’re under threat – Loran showed himself to be loyal enough to offer himself up to be tortured instead of my companions.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He swallows, then nods, and I feel the Bond snap back into place, stronger than ever. I smile.

  “Welcome to the family, Loran,” I tell him gently. I ache to stand up and put my hand on his shoulder as Catch did, but fear that it will make him uncomfortable. Instead, I just stay sitting and send him waves of warmth down the Bond. He blinks several times in quick succession, then nods jerkily.

  “Thank you, sir,” he replies, his voice rough.

  I give him a wry smile.

  “I figure you can call me ‘Markus’, at least when it’s just pack, right? You’re not going to have that band around your throat much longer, are you?”

  “No,” he agrees, buoyant relief bouncing along the Bond between us.

  A knock falls on the door.

  “One moment!” I call, then look at Loran. “Do you want to go back to the manor and pay off that service contract of yours immediately? Or would you rather stay?”

  He hesitates for a moment, looking around our other companions. Then determination settles into the lines on his face.

  “I’d rather stay…if that is acceptable to you?”

  “Absolutely fine,” I agree and start piling the dishes up so they’re not covering the table. Unprompted, Loran reaches out to help me. “Would you like me to get another chair for you?” I ask him, figuring that the one he’s currently sitting in should be for the interviewee – assuming that’s what the knock on the door is about.

  He looks uncomfortable at the thought.

  “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

  “Up to you.” I watch as he carefully stands – Catch shifts his hand away easily and returns to guarding River; Trouble isn’t nearly as amenable and complains loudly about being disturbed again. When the raptorcat realises that his matriarch has taken his place on my lap, he growls even more loudly. As soon as Loran positions himself on my left and slightly behind me, Trouble goes to slump against his leg, moaning almost piteously to the man. I bite my lip to stop myself laughing.

  “You can come in,” I call to the person at the door and it opens to reveal Emilia accompanied by a short but swarthy man. He has a grizzled beard, weather-beaten lines all over his face, and bags under his eyes, but his eyes glint with intelligence. He’s dressed neatly in a pair of dark blue trousers that come down to just below his knees, a short overrobe – more of a jacket, really – that only comes to his waist and has a line of buttons down the front, and a wide-brimmed hat with some sort of seashell emblem on it.

  “Captain Tolly, Lord Markus,” Emilia announces. The man bows deeply.

  “Milord,” he greets, his voice a low growl.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” she announces, then ushers the man in and closes the door behind him.

  “Captain Tolly, please, sit down,” I invite. The man hesitates for one moment – his eyes brushing over my companions – and then he strides to the seat, his movements sure and confident. “Emilia tells me you may be looking for a ship to captain,” I start neutrally.

  “Aye. Did she tell ye why?”

  “Something about a sea-beast that destroyed your last ship. Nothing more.” I’m careful to keep any hint of accusation out of my voice.

  “‘Tis true,” he sighs, his gaze drifting over my shoulder to stare at some memory instead of what lies before him. “Five voyages from Haven, to Whalehost, to Rainpoint, and back again, and on the sixth – disaster.” He shakes his head. “If we’d had a mage or two on board…but we didn’t. The ship was lost and all but eight of my crew with it.”

  “Why didn’t you have a mage on board?” I ask with my eyes slightly narrowed. “If you don’t mind telling me,” I add, belatedly considering that it might be a sensitive topic. The weather-beaten lines on Tolly’s face tighten but he answers with only the slightest hint of reluctance.

  “I asked around – none would come with me. I…I offended someone high up in the guild at Rainpoint. I can’t prove it but…I think it was because o’ that.” He gives a slightly defeated shrug – this one using his shoulders like I would, and not his hand as Nicholas does.

  I nod slowly.

  “If you don’t mind me inquiring further, how did you offend the person high up in the guild? And which guild?” If it’s the guild of mages, that could make things complicated. If it’s the Captain’s Guild…well, it’s not necessarily less complicated, but differently so.

  “The guild o’ captains,” he answers promptly, then hesitates a moment. “And…I won a race.” Seeing my look, he explains further. “With the favourite of a senior captain.” He shrugs again. “I ain’t gonna throw a race just to make someone else happy – that ain’t me.” Then his shoulders slump a little. “But my crew weren’t worth my pride.”

  I tap the surface of the table thoughtfully. So far, my impression of him is good. He lost his last ship and much of his crew, but it seems to be mostly due to the machinations of others than his own incompetence.

  What do you think? I ask my companions, particularly aiming my words at Lathani.

  He seems honest, she replies with a hint of nonchalance. He regrets the loss of his pack. And he’s hurting at the loss of his home. And angry at those who caused the problem.

  That’s what I’m reading too.

  Thanks, Lathani, I tell her gratefully. “Captain Tolly, I’m sure you’re aware of the ships being built at the quayside. Are you familiar with their destination?”

  The captain grunts.

  “Ain’t a soul in this port who don’t know that.”

  “Then how would you feel about captaining one of them?”

  Only the twitch of Tolly’s eyebrows make me wonder whether Emilia actually told him about why I wanted to speak to him.

  “Ye…ye would be willing to trust one o’ them to me?” I hear the unspoken ‘even though I lost my last ship’.

  “You come recommended by Emilia,” I tell him with a faint shrug of my own. “And you seem honest enough. I’ll ask you straight – do you think you’re capable of it?”

  Tolly’s gaze takes on a far-away quality.

  “Any o’ them are bigger than my last lady,” he murmurs. “But with the right crew….” His gaze snaps back to me. “Which are ye thinking about? And could I choose my own sailors?”

  “At this point, you could take your pick,” I inform him. “And yes, I will happily leave gathering the crew in your hands – as long as I have the final say on the officers at least.”

  He tilts his head thoughtfully.

  “What kind of salaries would ye offer? And would ye only offer coin or forage rights on the Lost Continent?”

  Fortunately, budgets and what to offer those I’ll be recruiting were part of the conversation Nicholas and I had yesterday.

  “On-ship salaries will be according to the standard, though I’ll offer bonuses for attention to duty. Alternatively, I'm willing to offer forage rights, yes, though it will have to be limited to what each sailor can personally store. I don’t want the ship cluttered to the point where its ability to sail is compromised.” Forage rights basically means that the sailors earn less per day of labour on the ship in exchange for the right to search for and bring back items of their own from the Lost Continent. It’s a gamble given how little is known about the Lost Continent, but the potential is huge.

  “Understandable,” the captain agrees. “Very well, let’s negotiate.” The glint in his eye makes me think that he’s looking forward to it. Abruptly I find myself hoping that he isn’t a Classer with a mercantile Skill – I might find myself on the poor end of the deal if so.

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