Chapter 2
Present Time
“What kind of mess did you three get yourselves into this time?” I hissed, flipping Kaelias’ arm over to expose the long slice running from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. “You’re lucky this wasn’t deeper. Let’s be clear, it will need stitches, and you will need to rest thereafter—for weeks.”
“One week?” He signed, smiling and batting his long lashes as if that was going to work on me.
“No.” I began cleaning and disinfecting the wound, wiping up the blood, and preparing the skin to be stitched. “Two weeks minimum, and really, it should be longer than that, but I know how stubborn you are. I’ll be telling Lorian too, so there’s no getting out of it this time.”
Kaelias winced when the needle pierced his light brown skin, but he didn’t shout or curse.
He never did. Nothing would make him break his vow.
Not that I knew much of what said vow entailed.
In the two years I’d known him, he’d never shared more than the fact that he’d taken a vow of silence, and I’d never asked.
I’d gotten the feeling early on that it was an off-limits topic.
“What happened out there?” I paused to look up at him. I’d learned to sign to communicate with him, but I was nowhere near perfect. It was easier for us both if I spoke and he signed.
Most of the crew found him cold and emotionless—and I admittedly had too, When I’d first met him.
It was a challenge to get to know him properly through paper and ink.
Once, I’d asked him to teach me to sign, his personality shined through.
It only took a little effort. Now, he’s my best friend on the ship.
He is actually quite funny, and loyal to a fault—a serious fault.
He’d no doubt gotten his injury protecting someone who’d made a stupid mistake in battle.
Kaelias signed with his free hand. “There were more guards than expected.”
“Who were you saving this time?”
“Lorian.”
I sighed and resumed my work. Lecturing Kaelias about how reckless he was when it came to Lorian was like talking to a brick wall.
He would die for the Captain without so much as a second thought.
I’d gathered that they’d known each other prior to the whole pirating business.
Everything else was a mystery, because neither of them were inclined to talk about their history, and the only other person who might have a clue was Makatza, but I didn’t feel comfortable going behind their backs to ask. We all have our secrets, after all.
“You’re done,” I said, tying off the stitch. I handed him a small jar of ointment I kept on hand. “Put this on the wound twice a day. Scratch at your stitches and I will give you a wound far worse than that one.”
He gave a sarcastic nod, but I knew he’d listen. If not to me, to Lorian.
Whatever had happened out there—it had been bad.
I’d had far more crew members in and out of the infirmary throughout the day than was normal for a standard raid.
Most had minor cuts or bruises, but there were a few, like Kaelias, who’d needed stitched up.
It had taken a toll on my already dwindling supplies.
I’d been mentioning the need to restock for weeks—now it was no longer a suggestion.
By the time I’d finished up for the night, my muscles were screaming from being hunched over for so long.
My hands were red and raw from working with the needle, grinding down poultices, and pulling bandages tight.
There was more to do, supplies to restock, tools to disinfect, but it would have to wait until the morning.
I needed to speak with Lorian immediately.
The Captain’s cabin was every bit as chaotic as he is.
He’d collected tiny treasures from every place we’d ever sailed, and decided to store them all inside.
Every inch of the walls were covered with paintings, maps, and trinkets.
Every time the waves were rough, more of his collection would tumble to the ground—shattering or tearing apart—and Makatza and I would scold him over how he needed to cut back. He always agreed. He never cut back.
I knocked and heard several things clatter to the ground as he shifted his legs—no doubt kicked up on the desk—back down to the floor.
“Come in.”
Lorian looked surprisingly worn down. For as busy as he kept us, he never let it show on his face—until now.
A permanent grimace etched into his mouth, and his dull, listless eyes fixed on the map before him.
He’d tied his hair into a mess of a bun behind his head, which would have been fine, except he is the type to always have his mane perfectly combed and braided.
He was as vain as they came. One look at Lorian had confirmed my earlier suspicions—whatever had happened was not good. At all.
“So… the raid.” I was dipping my toe in the water of his patience, testing if bringing up a medical supply restock at the present moment was going to send him over the edge.
He looked up at me, and guilt flooded his face. “I fucked up.”
So, I was speaking with friend Lorian, not Captain Lorian. Supplies would have to wait a bit. “Lorian. It happens.”
He sucked in a deep breath and shook his head, shifting to stare out of his small window. “No. We went after a shipment of gemstones that was supposed to be going to an Elven noble family. Pieces of shit, truly. They deserved it.”
I sat down in the chair across from him. “Kaelias said there were more guards than you anticipated.”
Lorian flinched and looked back at me, the guilt melting into concern. “Is he… alright?”
“He’ll be fine. He needs to mind his stitches, but it’s nothing dire.”
That seemed to settle him. “More guards is an understatement, and not half of the problem. The report I’d received was false. The shipment was actually headed for the capital city Val’Naeris.” He buried his head in his hands. “To the goddamn castle.”
Oh. Oh, Lorian had indeed fucked up. “That is not ideal.”
He scoffed. “No. Not ideal.”
“You didn’t kill royal guards, right?”
“No. The shipment was small enough that it was being handled externally. I don’t think the King will care much about a few crates of gems, but he’ll set a bounty on us to protect his image. And no fence is going to touch them knowing where they came from, so this whole thing was pointless.”
I knew that bothered him more than our inevitable death at the hands of either bounty hunters or the royal guard.
The gold from the shipment was to help a port town we’d recently visited, a town that had suffered fires and crop losses.
Lorian had heard their stories and given them what we could spare, promising to be back with more.
The Lord of their territory had done nothing to help.
Without the gold, there was little we could do.
A knock sounded at the door, and Kaelias and Makatza waltzed in.
“Family meeting?” Makatza laughed, plopping down in a chair.
Lorian rested a hand on her shoulder. “Just wondering if I should drown myself in the ocean or take my chances at the end of someone else’s blade.”
“Blade, always.”
Kaelias signed something to Lorian that I only caught the end of and couldn’t make sense of.
“No.” Lorian’s voice was ice cold.
“What is it?” I asked, twisting around to Kaelias.
Lorian shot up from his seat, eyes boring into Kaelias.
“You will not repeat what you said to me.” An uncomfortable pause followed, the two of them staring at each other unflinching, before Lorian finally waved his hand in front of him.
“Everyone out. I’m tired. We will deal with this in the morning. ”
Kaelias was the first to rush from the room, followed by an awkward shuffle of Makatza and me.
I didn’t chase after him, and I bid Makatza a quick goodbye.
Something had set Lorian off, and I wasn’t about to stick around and bug him about supplies, even if we did really need them.
If what he’d told me was true, we’d have much bigger problems to worry about anyway.
The one good thing about being the ship’s substitute doctor—substitute because I’d had zero formal training and everything I’d learned was from a book—was that I no longer had to sleep in a hammock surrounded by snoring crewmates.
It was the stuff of nightmares. All sorts of bodily noises and smells that shouldn’t have been possible.
Sleeping on the road under the stars had been more pleasant.
Animals smelled better and were quieter.
As long as no one was sick enough that they needed to be isolated, I had the infirmary room to myself.
There was enough leftover space for a small pallet bed in the corner, a side table, and a mirror.
I’d tried to make it my own with the few items I’d collected along our travels over the past two years.
It wasn’t beautiful or luxurious, but it was home, and I wanted it to stay that way.
I kicked off my boots and unlaced my corset before sitting in front of the mirror and gazing at my reflection.
Back so soon? Did you miss me?
It was my own face that stared back at me, though not my mouth, not my words. It’d terrified me the first several times it’d happened. I’d thought I was losing my mind—and maybe I was, though I was used to it now.
“How do I get us out of this one?”
Are you taking me up on my offer, my sweet little monster? I’ve told you how powerful I could make us. We could have this entire world bowing at our feet, begging us for mercy.
“I don’t need that kind of power. I only need enough to protect the people I care about.”
You don’t trust me.
I let out a breath, but the image in front of me didn’t move. “I don’t know what you are.”
Zaelos.
“Zaelos.” I repeated the name out loud, hating the bitter taste it left on my tongue.
Something about the name sucked the air from my lungs and sent a burning pain through my skull.
There were flashes of images:snow, a crumbling body, an outstretched hand, darkness.
I rubbed circles along the sides of my head. “That doesn’t answer what you are.”
I am you. You are me. I am tired of playing this song and dance with you.
As if I wasn’t tired of being startled every time I looked in a mirror. “What do you need me to do?”
Answer the magic that dwells within you. Stop fighting it.
“Thank you, that was so helpful.” I rolled my eyes.
I don’t like this one. The voice hissed. You’ve picked up an attitude amongst these swine. I liked you quiet.
“I like it when you’re quiet, too. The constant riddles are rather annoying. If you have something useful to say, you know where to find me.” If I had to listen to that disgusting, twisted echo of my voice for a moment longer, I was going to shatter the mirror into pieces.
I ripped my shirt off my body and threw it over the mirror. “Goodnight.”
I laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I repeated the words in my head over and over.
Answer the magic that dwells within you.
Stop fighting it. It was similar to what the people of my village had expected of me.
They had wanted me to master my magic to honor our god.
To save them. Save us. Save us, Saintess.
It danced beneath my skin—as if it knew.
The one time I’d let it surface, it had stained my skin with black tendrils that had covered my fingers and curled up my wrists.
The marks had been hot and painful to the touch, and all I’d had to show of it was a tiny wisp of black shadow that had faded in the next moment.
I was no Mage, and I had no intention of learning how to utilize my magic if it was going to satisfy the thing in the mirror.
I didn’t know what it was. What I was. If I continued to ignore it, things could stay as they were. I could stay who I was. Who I’d grown to love to be.
Nairu. Pirate Doctor of The Pheonix Heart.