Chapter 6
Isat on the rickety cot in the room. Was this to be the rest of my existence? Locked doors, orders, and endless waiting. I was always so certain it would be more. I wanted to cry, scream, fight. But for what? To who? My thoughts were driving me mad. I’d be nothing. No one. Forever.
As soon as the sky shaded pink, my fist collided with wood. “The captain said dinner was at sunset!”
Keys rattled and the door swung open, the small drucia waiting on the other side in silence.
I swept past her, ascending the staircase with purpose.
On the deck, the vast sea expanded in every direction, as flat as glass. The fading sun inflamed the world in hues of orange and gold, while the rhythmic sound of sailors at work and the gentle waves against the ship’s hull filled the salted air.
It was calm this far from land.
Scanning the deck, I spotted him and his broad figure against the sunset sky.
“Do you at least feed your prisoners around here?” I shouted across the ship.
He turned slowly, expression steadfast despite the curious looks from wide-eyed sailors flitting my way.
With deliberate steps, he approached me.
“I was told you were a lady.” He looped his arm into the crook of my elbow firmly, spinning me around. His touch was warm. “Not a barking dog.”
I smiled prettily. “If you wish to call me a bitch,” I said emphasizing the curse loudly, “then come out with it, Captain. Do not hide behind some terrible attempt at wit.”
More glances fell in our direction as the captain forced a false smile and firmly navigated us across the bustling ship’s deck.
Despite the scowl etched into my face, for some sick reason, I savored every moment we touched.
He felt real. Corporeal. Like an anchor when the rest of my world was thrown into the air, sent flying, uncertain of its landing.
“Ladies aren’t supposed to speak in such a manner,” he said in a sharpened whisper that raised gooseflesh down my neck.
I let my stare bore into his features, however handsome.
“Ladies are not supposed to be locked away either,” I said.
“I must manage my cargo as I am instructed to,” he said, anxiously tonguing his cheek. “Although, I assumed you had been made aware of those arrangements.”
“That’s what I am then? Cargo.” I held his gaze, refusing to back down.
He winced.
The crew moved with practiced ease, acknowledging the captain with nods before returning to their tasks.
“No, and I apologize for the way the situation was managed. I believe the measures were for your safety and in that attempt your dignity was overlooked. I’m sorry for my hand in that.” His words were thoughtful and measured.
A savory smell drifted from the direction of the dining hall we were nearing. My mouth watered. I had refused to eat that morning, too grief-stricken to take a bite. But I was never one to miss meals.
“Hungry then?” He smiled, noting the hunger in my eyes. “We’ll get you a good meal and return you to your quarters,” the captain said in a smooth directive. He was used to giving orders.
“Where will you dine?” I asked.
“With my crew. As I always do.”
“Is that not a little beneath a captain?” I mocked, pushing against the strange feelings this man inflicted upon me.
“Some may say so, and few captains do. But it’s time well spent eating and speaking with the men who keep my ship afloat.”
A good answer that I unfortunately respected.
I slipped out of his grip and marched into a dining room bathed in half-light, where two young men in aprons were setting a long table with care.
“Then I shall dine with them too.”
The captain never refused me. Either he didn’t want me to cause another scene or attempted to call my bluff, thinking I’d never actually want to dine with sailors.
He was rigid and on guard as the room filled with men, each serving one another and eyeing the head of the table where the captain and I sat.
As did my mute chaperone, the drucia, from her quiet corner on the other side of the room.
But eventually the captain settled into his chair as the sun nestled into the waves. The conversation hummed over our empty bowls of stew, the dripping candles gilding the sailors’ faces.
A toothless man, Chumly, the captain’s right hand, slipped two full tankards of ale into our palms.
“The captain’s a good man, me lady, kindest captain I know. One time he paid to have this tooth pulled.” Chumly reached into his mouth and pointed to his glistening gums. “Cost two whole gold and he didn’t bat an eye.”
The captain reached across the table and pulled his sailor’s hand from his mouth.
“It’s not polite to speak with your mouth full, Chumly. Especially not in front of ladies,” the captain said with a chuckle that warmed me through.
“Sorry captain.” Chumly answered shyly. “Will you finally tell us, Lady, why are you on this ship?” He leaned in. “We have a runnin’ bet.”
“I said you’re a merchant’s wife,” the young man next to Chumly shouted, bits of stew flying with the words.
“I said a mayor’s betrothed,” Chumly offered.
I looked to the captain.
“You haven’t told them?”
“I don’t know either.” He shrugged his heavy shoulders.
“Tell us, Lady,” a man cheered, then another bellowed, “Yes, tell us!”
Shaking my head no, I answered, “Better to keep you on your toes, otherwise the ale may stop flowing.” That was easier than the truth. That I was headed to marry a man who looked at me with disgust. A man who lied, staining my name, because he wanted to use me.
I smiled and raised my cup, an uproar of cheers following.
“I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long,” the captain said, those ardent eyes peering over his tankard.
“And why is that?” I asked in a murmur.
“It’s a rough crowd. They’re on their best behavior, but surely a far cry from the nobles you must dine with.”
How little he knew. I had played cards with cooks and laughed with gardeners over meals my whole life. Here, I felt far more comfortable than the court of misery I was just banished from, again.
“And you believe nobles are more pleasant company?” I asked.
His features flattened.
“No. But you …” His eyes crosshatched my face, searching. Wanting to ask something, “You seem—”
“Captain!” A small boy called as he needled through the crowded room to the captain’s side. No older than ten, his little fingers mindlessly latched onto the captain’s chair in familiarity.
“How was your watch, Alistar?” the captain questioned as he clapped the boy on the shoulder, shaking the boy’s sandy cherub’s curls.
“Not a sea beast in sight, sir!” the boy exclaimed.
“Very good. Now go wash up and get yourself something warm to eat, sailor,” the captain instructed with authority, despite the ale reddening his cheeks.
“Yes, Captain,” the boy answered with a large smile, then scurried off.
“He’s quite young,” I remarked to the captain, leaning back in my chair as he did.
“Picked him up in Haverford. His father was a farmer, but when he died, the lands went to his brother who didn’t want another mouth to feed.”
“That’s awful,” I said softly.
“That is the world,” he said, turning to Chumly, who was going on with two other men about a time when he fed seagulls off the bow.
“The food splat right on me face, and the beasts dove and chased me! One even bit me arse!” The room rippled with laughter and so did the captain, his deep, cheerful laugh rumbling through my soul. This was nice. Good people eating, drinking, and being truly happy.
“Captain,” I asked, wanting those brilliant, sun-soaked eyes back on me.
“Yes,” he answered, half-listening.
“Alistar was on the lookout for beasts, is that what you said?” I asked.
“Yes, I give the shift to younger sailors,” he answered, his voice resonating richer than the deepest notes my left hand played on the virginal. I wish I could wield that sound, command it with the mere movement of a little finger.
“Personally, I feel far safer with Alistar on the lookout,” I joked in a murmur.
The captain smiled, leaned in, and whispered, “Between you and me, there are no beasts, at least not in these waters.”
The gentle, deep octave of his voice sank into my belly.
“Ah.” I savored him. His tone, those eyes. Both radiant and mild. Like a summer day. “Not a siren in sight then?”
The room instantly silenced.
The captain faced his crew, but their eyes were all turned to me.
“What did she say?” Chumly asked in a scared rasp. All welcome was leaving his face, replaced with guarded terror.
“Wish you hadn’t said that,” The captain said through clenched teeth, then stood from his chair and addressed his crew. “Let’s call it a night, men. We have an early start tomorrow.”
“But the woman, she spoke of the monsters that haunt the seas, desiring the flesh of sailors and—” The word “woman” was on his lips like a swear.
“To bed with all not on night shift. That is an order,” the captain demanded.
The men reluctantly obeyed, the shuffle of their chairs and whispers overtaking the sound of the ocean’s rush.
The captain looked down at me, still in my chair. “You as well, Lady.” He nodded to the drucia standing by the door waiting for me. “Your chaperone waits.”
“What did I say that frightened them?” I asked, wondering what could strike such fear in sea-hardened men.
“Sirens.” He rolled his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. “There is talk of ships disappearing at the ports and sailors are a superstitious lot.”
Just as the old men had whispered of in my father’s court. I was so stupid for even bringing it up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the evening.”
“It’s fine. We’ll be at Whiterok by daybreak, so you should get some rest anyway.”
I wasn’t ready for the little dream to end. All that waited on the other side of the night was the thing of nightmares. Marriage to a monster. An unknown city on the sea miles away from everything I loved. The end of my life.
“Have you been there before?” I asked. Stalling.
After a long pause the captain finally answered, “Yes.”
Too short. I wanted a sentence in that soothing voice.
My face twisted as tears stabbed behind my eyelids.
“What have you heard of the man who created it?” I focused on my trembling hands. Able to feel the captain’s gaze lingering on me, while fearing if I looked up at his handsome face and met the stare of those comforting eyes, my own would rain with tears.
“I know … that he is a good man. Now, goodnight, Lady.” Then he left.
It was a silent walk back to my room with the drucia, the black night so clear that the sky dazzled with silver stars.
But the beauty of the clear night disappeared the moment she locked the door behind me, leaving only a glimmer visible from the small window of my room as I laid my head down to sleep.