Chapter Eighteen
Griffin watched Myles lean over the side of the ship, heaving as the contents of his stomach streamed into the lake below. “I hate you, Griffin O’Shea,” he grumbled in between bouts of nausea as the ship rocked. “I hate you so freaking much.”
Riona chuckled from her spot sitting beside Griffin on the deck. “I don’t think the king likes you very much.”
“King Consort.” Griffin didn’t know why he corrected her. Maybe it was because Myles had risen to the position Regan once meant for him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Where’s Gulliver?”
Riona shrugged. “It’s not my job to watch the boy.”
The rocking intensified as water sloshed over the ship’s side. Griffin lunged forward, tackling Myles’ to the deck as water crashed over where he’d just been standing. Griffin
