Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Cariad had never been on a ship before. Her bright red hair was knotted into several tight plaits and tucked underneath a kerchief that also hid her pointed ears.
She had bound her breasts and donned men’s trousers to blend into the rest of the sailors at port.
But she couldn’t help her more delicate features that separated her from the humans—especially the sea-weathered human men (and some fae) who swarmed the docks.
Aerona had told her to disappear and that’s exactly what she tried to do.
She was no longer heir to the throne, she was no longer an earth fae.
While Aerona finished her protection wards on the castle and its inhabitants, Cariad readied herself to leave the only home she had ever known.
She packed as sparsely as she dared, shoving only a few things into a small waxed satchel, hoping it would be waterproof for the journey.
In it, there was a journal she warded so it would look blank, a bottle of sand from their beach, a pouch full of coins, precious jewels from the Dwarven kingdom, a branch from the yew tree in the throne room, and a fresh change of clothes she stole from her father’s old wardrobe.
But now that she had slipped onto the deck of The Sovereign’s Pride, the weight of the journey she was about to embark on settled in her chest. Her heart beat against its cage like a trapped bird.
Every sound, every shout, every sudden movement sent her skittering to find a place to hide and what better place to tuck in than behind a large stack of barrels.
She just needed to stay hidden well enough until they left port.
And then, well, maybe she could persuade the captain to let her stay.
A deep voice barked out from nearby, “Oy! These should be below deck!”
A sailor grumbled out a disgruntled, “Aye aye, Cap’n.”
“Come again?” The captain shouted.
“Aye aye, Cap’n!” The sailor responded, a bit more enthusiastically.
The captain barked out something else but the wind took his words before Cariad could make out what he had said. The tone, however, was angry. Angry enough that Cariad could feel the admonishment in the pit of her stomach.
This was not a captain one wanted to piss off.
The shuffling of feet pulled her back into the present, fear of being seen gripped her.
She looked behind her and saw a door ajar.
With a wriggle of her fingers, a few vines crawled from within the room beyond and quietly opened the door.
Large human hands grabbed the topmost barrel nearest her head and, without a second thought, she crouched further into the shadows and slipped through the door.
With a wave of her finger the vines closed it softly behind her.
Inside, the room was dimly lit. Late afternoon sun poured through the windows and illuminated a large desk in one corner.
Several oil lamps hung from the rafters, swaying slightly and casting long shadows.
She crouched down in a dark corner, tucking herself between a shelf, and watched as the sun set low over the horizon.
Soon, the noise from the deck quieted and the only sounds she heard were the soft waves knocking against the hull.
As she settled in for the night, sliding down to put her head on her knees, Cariad hoped against hope that the captain would sleep ashore and she wouldn’t be found until the ship was well out to sea.
Someone kicked her feet. Twice. Hard.
“Ugh, stop,” Cariad groaned, wanting to roll over and continue sleeping but her muscles were too tight and—
“Stop?” A gravely voice said above her. “Where do you get off telling me what to do on my ship?”
Cariad’s eyes flew open and she met the cold grey stare of the captain. Sunlight streamed into the cabin.
“That’s right, sailor. Do you know the punishment for stowaways?” He glared down at her. His strong jaw was covered in stubble, his shirt was partially untucked, and she dared a glance lower to see if—
Oh, no. Her eyes darted back up. No, no, no. What time is it?
How could this have happened?
She clamped her mouth shut. It would be better if she didn’t give herself away just yet.
“No response?” The captain harrumphed. “Figures. When you find a woman dressed up like a sailor, sleeping in your private quarters, you have to wonder if she’s going to give herself away the second she speaks.”
Cariad opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off with a dismissive wave.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throw you overboard.”
“Is there anything I can say right now that would dissuade you?” Even though her throat was tight from fear, her voice came out a lot stronger than she thought.
“Not particularly.” Is that a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth? Or a snarl? “But let’s hear it.”
She straightened to stand, her eyes level with his chin, and took a deep breath. When she raised her eyes, she remembered a saying her mother had always said, “Regal women do not look up at anyone. We look down, despite our size.”
It had taken her ages to figure out what her mother meant, but by now she had mastered her ability to command with a single glance. And though she was almost a whole head shorter than him, she looked at him with such force that he staggered back a half step.
“I am in need of passage to the southern shores.” Was her voice wavering?
She took another deep breath and reminded herself that she was the heir to the Earth Fae throne, for goddess’ sake.
And she would convince him. But, if worse came to worse, she could pay him.
Weren’t all sailors some sort of greedy, money-grubbing pirate cousins anyway?
“Mhmm,” he said, rubbing his jaw and looking her up and down. His grey eyes flicked to the kerchief around her head and it took everything in her willpower to keep her hands away from her pointed ears. Then he trailed his eyes down her body and she repressed a full shiver.
How dare he! The blatant assessment of her physical form was enough to repel her from human men forever. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off.
“You are short, your skin is pallid, and your hands are soft. You’ve never been on a boat before and that is a problem for me and a problem for you.
I can’t have some delicate lady stowaway on this ship, expecting special treatment, not holding her own, prancing about in your borrowed clothes that still look like finery.
If you want passage on my ship, you earn it.
Plain and simple.” He strode over to the desk and flipped open a large book.
“I will call my First Mate in and we will assess your skill level and find you something suitable for your contributions. But I do not give special treatment to anyone, especially stowaways.”
Relief flooded her veins and Cariad stepped forward to thank him but the ship lurched and she was unused to walking while the boat rocked. She stumbled forward and her hands landed on the hard planes of his chest. She straightened and withdrew them quickly. “I, sir, I…”
“Careful.” He smirked at her. “If you had come to me on the docks and asked for passage, I would have given it. I am not the kind of captain to turn away a fae in need.”
How did he know? Cariad’s hand flew to her ears that were tucked away. “I didn’t know. I was only told I needed to find this vessel and head south.”
The captain continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “The port we were in was within Water Fae territory and protected from the Fire Fae by the Deoir family. We take refugees regularly. If you had spared a glance at any of my crew, half of them are fae or halflings. This is a humanitarian ship, a humble crew, and we expect everyone to do their part. Am I clear?”
Cariad swallowed, fighting back the bitter taste of guilt and shame. “I understand. I will help in whatever way I can.”
“Good,” he said, nodding once. A feather quill rested near an ink pot and he reached for it, dipping into the well a few times.
She watched as the muscles in his forearm flexed as he handled the delicate writing instrument between his fingers.
With his hand poised over the large book, he looked up at her.
“I need a name for my records. Initials are fine, as well, but in order for me to account for any lost souls on our voyage, a headcount is necessary.”
“Ceecee,” she blurted before she could think of anything better.
It was a name that Aerona had called her when she was a wee fae babe.
She distinctly remembered the absurdity of it.
As the oldest, Ceecee felt diminutive for the eventual heir to the throne.
But as Cariad grew into the role of bigger sister, the more she liked that Aerona had given her a special name.
“Well, Ceecee, welcome to the Sovereign’s Pride.
” Her childhood nickname on his tongue felt strange and she rubbed her hands together.
As he scratched her name onto the paper, along with a few other details, she noticed he did not write down her nickname or that she was fae.
Her shoulders relaxed and she let out a deep exhale.
“Now, on that note. If word of what this vessel does leaks into the wrong hands, should you speak to anyone about this vessel, its crew, our mission, I will make sure that you are unable to ever speak, to anyone, ever again. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes,” she answered, embarrassed by the meekness in her voice.