Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Once her unfounded fear of being discovered had subsided, Cariad relaxed.
Only to quickly realize she was quite nauseated on open water.
The further out to sea they went, the rougher the seas got and she ended up spending most of her time with her head over the edge of the railing emptying the contents of her stomach.
A few times the captain walked by and shouted that she’d soon get her sea legs but something in the back of her mind told her that she was better off on land.
Twice the first mate hovered nearby, just out of eyesight. She would have said hello and introduced herself but each time she took her eyes off the waves, another bout of retching overtook her and she hung her head over the edge once more.
Finally, land was sighted as the sky turned a light lavender haze, and for the first time all day, she let herself cry. As the Sovereign’s Pride anchored and the two small boats were lowered, Cariad sank to the deck, exhausted.
“Chin up, Ceecee.”
Her heart skipped a beat and a wave of homesickness washed over her. She would know that voice anywhere, but why on earth were they here? Through the sweaty, salt-sprayed curtain of her hair, she could barely make out a familiar figure.
“Thorne?” She croaked. Her lips were cracked and her throat ached but despite the horrific first day out at sea, she felt warmth filling the center of her chest.
Her question was met with a light chuckle. “You can touch the earth once more, you landlubber.”
She blinked a few times and finally pushed her hair from her face.
Thank the Goddess.
There, standing in front of her, was her flighty friend, the snarky bird shifter fae.
They stared at her, a mask of amusement across their face.
She took in their features—their shock-white hair, purple eyes that missed nothing, and dark brown skin that somehow glistened even in the fading light—and almost crumpled with relief that they were here.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” Thorne whispered, kneeling next to her. She opened her mouth to object to the title but they continued. “No one else is listening, don’t worry.”
Their hand stroked her back and she leaned into the healing touch. The last fae she expected to run into, Thorne was a force to be reckoned with. They operated on their own time schedule, was constantly meddling in dicey affairs, and appeared (and disappeared) at whim.
Nevertheless, she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes, grateful that she had at least one familiar face for this tiresome journey. The boat swayed gently in the calmer waters and Cariad felt her seasickness easing. She would be relieved once her feet were in the sand.
“Have you been here the whole time?” She stood on weak, wobbly legs and Thorne reached out to help her but her question was met with silence.
A few sailors scurried past them and once they were out of earshot, Thorne sighed. “Yes, I am the first mate.”
Cariad snorted. “You?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Thorne quipped.
“Only a little,” Cariad smirked. To have the responsibility of being the first mate was something that seemed at odds to their very nature.
She must have given Thorne a look because they shook their head haughtily. “I happen to be a very quick learner and have proven myself indispensable to the captain.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure he’s pleased as punch to have the heir of the Air—.” But she didn’t get to finish.
Thorne’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Shush, you!”
Sailors scurried about, shouting orders to load up the rowboats. Thorne dropped their hand and pushed Cariad over to the stairs near the upper deck. A quick glance around and they added, “I am just a bird shifter on this ship. Not Thorne. Not the heir. Everyone here calls me Birdy.”
She almost laughed but then asked, “Really? Birdy?”
Birdy (she doubted she would ever get used to that name without the desire to snicker) nodded their head once as if it wasn’t the most hilarious name they could have chosen.
“And, like I said, I am indispensable. I can easily scout ahead and report back anything I see to the captain. And if we are met with unfavorable conditions or ships, my air magic comes in handy.”
Cariad swore they preened. “So, what you’re saying is that we’ll be fine on this ship until we reach the southern shores?”
Dare she let herself hope that things would only improve from here on out?
Birdy opened their mouth to answer but the captain’s booming voice cut off their conversation.
“Birdy, you stay behind for first watch.”
She could feel the captain’s presence behind her. The space he took up, the way the air shifted to make room for him and his commands. Even Birdy, who was cocky and known for not bowing to any sort of authority figure, adjusted the way they stood.
“Aye, Captain.” Birdy dipped their head and met Cariad’s eyes once more before shifting into their falcon to perch at the top of a mast.
“Ceecee?” The captain asked as if he had forgotten her name. She turned and the smirk at the corner of his mouth was enough to tell her that he hadn’t.
“Yes?” She answered.
The captain crossed his arms and frowned. Waiting.
For what? And then she remembered. How full of oneself did you have to be? “Yes, captain?”
“Time to disembark, milady.” He met her sarcastic tone with an exaggerated bow and twirl of his arm.
Cariad leaned forward and stared down, down, down the side of the ship to the small dinghy that floated in the water. Her knuckles gripped the wood tightly. Several sailors looked up at her shocked face. They looked so very far away.
“I—Where’s—I don’t—I think—,” she stuttered, her body involuntarily shivered at the thought of falling off the ladder as she made her way down.
The ship heaved slightly in a large wake.
How dare she have to choose between climbing down a ladder that was in no way safe and staying on this wretched floating piece of wood?
“You climb down the ladder,” Captain Smartass said.
“Yes, I’m… aware. I just didn’t think it would be quite so big.”
A passing sailor laughed and then turned his chuckle into a fake cough.
Captain Smartass called over his shoulder, “Something funny, Padraig?”
“No, Sir,” Padraig quipped and shuffled away quickly.
“Right, then, down you go,” Captain Smartass gestured once more and looked at Cariad expectantly.
She shook her head. “You know, I think your first mate could use some company and I’m not feeling quite as seasick as I was earlier. In fact, I think being on a ship suits me. I volunteer for first watch, too.”
He smiled. “Don’t tell me someone like yourself is afraid to climb down a silly old rope?”
“It’s the old part that worries me,” she sniped back.
Captain Smartass huffed. Then he crossed his arms and looked at her. And looked. And looked some more. “Well?”
She really had to do this. She had to climb over the railing, climb down the rickety rope ladder, and get into another boat. Her hands went clammy. “Well.”
“If you want your feet on solid ground tonight, this is the only way.” He shrugged. “Unless you want to try and swim but between here and the shore is a reef that is not unknown to have sharks and sharp coral, both of which can take a nice bite out of soft flesh.”
Cariad gulped. Sure enough, a few black fins poked up through the water a few yards out. Her heart sunk. She looked at the rope and down at the boat once more.
She could do this.
“Daylight’s wasting,” Captain Smartass grumbled. “And if you don’t get down there, I will toss you into the water myself.”
“Fine,” she huffed and scrambled over. And then stopped. She clung to the edge, her legs shaking, her hands gripping the railing so hard her fingers turned white.
It was a long way down. And was the ship swaying even more right now?
She tried imagining she was at the top of a tree and the sea below was just the forest floor and the ropes were the vines and they were safe and holding her. But a soft breeze pulled at her hair and the brine filled her lungs, and there was no hope. The flimsy illusion shattered.
A few of the sailors down below tried calling out to her. But the creak of the ship as it bobbed in the water assaulted her ears and she could not hear anything else.
She closed her eyes and tried lowering down by feel but as soon as her hand let go of the railing, she swore the rope was untwining and she scrambled back up once more, grappling for something solid.
Captain Smartass disappeared.
At least she was over the railing. He should be happy with that. After all, it was progress. She let her forehead rest against the side of the ship. A rustling sounded next to her and she cringed. But then the captain’s voice was right near her ear.
“Okay, Ceecee, you’re going to take one step down at a time. And then, once you’re down, the boat will be on shore before you know it. Take a deep breath and just follow my voice. Ready?”
She dared a peek, slowly opening her eyes and glancing to her right. There, swinging carefree next to her, was the captain. His strong hands gripped a long piece of knotted rope, his strong legs wrapped around it. How he held himself there with such little effort baffled her.
“Are you ready, Ceecee?” His voice asked again.
She nodded, not sure she could trust her voice to sound like anything other than squeaky.
“You’ll need to let go of the ship you love so much.” His voice was soothing and calm, despite the hint of sarcasm at the end.
And, by the magic of the goddess because that was the only reasoning available to her at the moment, she loosened her grip and bit by bit, he coached her down each rung.
He talked about nonsense things, peppering how far down she was with little bits of praise like ‘well done,’ and ‘you’re almost there,’ and when she just about reached the bottom, he slid into the boat ahead of her.
“Final step.” His voice was strong and steady.
Her legs wobbled as she gingerly touched her toes on the solid wood.
She carefully let go and, once again, her legs threatened to give way.
His hands were on her hips in a flash as he steadied her.
Her face flushed at the contact, her eyes locked on his forearms. She swallowed thickly.
Tiny flames erupted where his fingers gripped and she shivered.
The sensation was so foreign to her that it actually angered her.
How dare he put his hands on her without asking?
She snapped, “I’m fine now. Thank. You.”
Whether he could tell she was angry or not was not her concern.
His hands dropped immediately and he grabbed the rope ladder. “You’re welcome.”
“Off you go then,” he said gruffly to the two sailors holding the oars.
She couldn’t bear to make any eye contact with anyone in the boat and refused to watch his lithe body scramble up the ropes and over the railing. Instead, she locked onto the green trees in the distance and yearned for the comfort of solid ground.