CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The others on his flagship braced against whatever they could grab while they rammed the enemy’s galley, but Irrien remained impassive in his throne. He would not let others see him clinging to the mast like some weakling. He was strong, and in moments, he would be victorious.
He had a moment to savor the way he’d drawn in his enemy. This foe had been a cunning one, worrying at the edges of his fleet the way wolves hounded the edges of a herd. He’d forgotten, though, that Irrien was not some deer or cattle to be brought down. He was a fighting man, well used to such tactics. The folk of the dust had fought that way for years.
Irrien had been patient. He’d let his enemy’s confidence grow. Then he’d left his opening. Now he smiled. He enjoyed the moment when he outthought
