Chapter Two Before #2
Perhaps I can disguise myself as a particularly tall cabin boy, and His Lordship will forget I ever existed.
It was only a passing fancy, and a useless one besides. She had no desire to be a cabin boy, no matter the circumstances.
Instead, she forced herself up and into her last clean dress, the stiff ivory cotton patterned with amber flowers.
Cat knew it matched her eyes, though she had not seen her own face in weeks.
Probably for the best, she thought, feeling the grime on her skin and the knots in her hair.
Despite her best efforts, the sea took its toll on Lady Rose.
And Lord Rose did too.
The Credence had reached the outer bounds of the Lyrian Sea some days ago, and rough ocean gave way to calmer waters. With it came her husband’s return to her cabin and all that entailed.
She kicked away his breeches, still crumpled on the floor from his nightly visit.
For a second, she debated dumping them overboard, but that would only get the servants in trouble.
Instead, she folded the clothing neatly over one arm and delivered them to Lord Rose’s empty cabin.
He was up on deck with the rest of the ship, crew and passenger alike.
As Cat left his breeches on his narrow bunk, she thought about changing herself again, in more impossible ways.
Not into a cabin boy, but a mermaid or a siren.
A giant squid. A water horse. A spirit upon the waves, a storm with a human face.
Something terrible and otherworldly, beyond the grasp of men.
Something that could jump over the rail and be gone with the tide, to whatever corner of the world she desired.
And where might that be? Cat asked herself.
She had no answer, for there was nowhere else to go.
Sighing, Cat forced herself out of the cabin.
Dawn broke soft and pink over the Credence, gilding every weathered and weary face on deck.
Cat slipped amongst the crew and passengers, edging past His Lordship and their household.
The Roses were not the only Meridian colonists to make the crossing, though the rest slept in hammocks in the crew quarters.
Her husband’s title and dwindling coin bought cabins, at least.
Cat kept her distance, finding a spot on the rail as far from Ryman as she could.
She ended up at the forecastle, nearly level with the carved maiden that decorated the prow of the ship.
A mermaid, Cat noted, envying the fluid lines of the maiden’s piscine tail.
The lovely figure held aloft a real lantern, guiding their way forwards.
Cat wanted to smash it and send them off course.
Islands took shape on the horizon, appearing out of the haze where sea met sky.
Her grip on the rail tightened, nails digging into freshly swabbed wood.
Even at a distance, she could see the jagged peaks forming the green spine of the islands, like a dragon rising out of the waves.
Clouds clung to the heights, dark and heavy with rain.
Again, Cat thought of leaping from the ship and taking whatever form her spirit could, to go wherever the wind carried.
A voice yelled from the crow’s nest, bellowing over the crowd.
“Land ho!” the sailor called, pointing at the horizon. “There be Goldcoast!”
Goldcoast Island, one of the Meridian colonies. But not our destination.
A sailor nearby threw a weighted line overboard with a splash. Rope unspooled at great speed as the line plunged through the waves.
“Ten fathoms!” he shouted after a moment, singing out the depth.
It was the first time the line had touched seabed since they left the Meridian coast, and Cat’s heart sank like the weight. It would not be long now until they reached their destination.
And her future.
She glanced northeast to the jagged silhouette of another island, far larger and more mountainous. Prospera, she thought, trying to remember her books, and the maps within. Bound to the Kingdom of Esperin.
“We should not be so close to enemy waters.”
Cat looked over her shoulder to see her lady’s maid, Sara, glaring at the islands. She had a severe face made even worse by a tightly wound bun of black hair.
“Captain Meedy knows his business,” Cat muttered, hoping to ease her maid’s mind. “Not to worry.”
But privately, Cat worried too. Somehow the maps in her books made the Lyrian islands seem farther apart. In reality, Goldcoast and Prospera looked within striking distance of each other; all the more concerning given the state of war between their crowns.
“I will be grateful to be back on land again.” Sara shook her head. “Even in these godsforsaken islands.”
Before Cat could answer, a voice called across the deck. She shuddered at the sound of her husband.
“My lady wife, join us, won’t you?” Lord Rose said, gesturing for her.
Ever the dutiful spouse, Cat obeyed, leaving the prow to meet Lord Rose at the starboard rail. He stood with his hand on a bewildered sailor’s shoulder.
Cat curtsied to them both.
Lord Rose grinned, showing a mouth of mismatched teeth. “Mr. Bridger here tells me of our island and what a prosperous future we might enjoy here in the colonies.”
Mr. Bridger gave a perplexed look. “My lady, I simply said if ye work hard and put yer salt in the Lyrian, she’ll give it back tenfold.”
“Salt?” Lord Rose raised an eyebrow.
“He means sweat, my lord,” Cat offered politely, wondering how a man like her husband even put his shoes on. But she held her smile for the bewildered sailor. “We will certainly endeavor to prosper here, Mr. Bridger. I am eager to see Rosby Island for myself.”
Her husband puffed up his chest beneath his coat, his pink face proud.
“Rich farmland, a country estate to rival the great houses back on the Continent. The King himself gave Rosby to my lord uncle for his services in the Anticlean Wars, and with his death it passed to me.” He gave a little salute, and Cat hid a scoff in her sleeve.
Her husband had never served a day in the navy, the army, or any group more organized than a hunting party.
“It will be nothing to flourish here, nothing at all. I do not know why I did not pursue this years ago.”
Because you were not destitute years ago, Cat thought, holding her tongue. She dearly wished he had left for the colonies then, so he might have been gone from Meridia long before she came of age. Instead, I fell neatly into his trap.
It was painful enough to watch Ryman spew his nonsense and spend money with abandon. But to know how tied she was to his demise . . .
Ryman Rose was an anchor, dragging her forever down.
He continued his mutterings about farming and trade, two things Lord Rose had little understanding of. The sailor stood by, nodding dutifully, his face pulled into a polite grimace. Cat ventured he’d heard such things before from other starry-eyed lords with lofty ambitions and shallow pockets.
“Pity there’s no slaving. I could turn quite the profit with a few bought backs,” Ryman added.
Even Cat could not school her features against such unsavory words; she winced, recoiling. Mr. Bridger’s face went sour too, and he twisted out of the lord’s grasp. He even dared to wag a finger in the lord’s direction.
“Slavin’ is for the devil, sir,” he said sharply, cheeks red. “Certainly, a good Meridian man like you knows that.”
Ryman’s face flushed in reply, and Cat delighted to watch him squirm.
The Meridian Empire had outlawed slavery nearly half a century ago, as had the Esperese.
The trade of human flesh was expressly forbidden, frowned upon in most corners of polite society.
Or at least, they pretended to frown at it; greedy men like Ryman lamented the wealth lost, no matter how many souls were saved.
“Of course, of course, I’m only saying—from a profit standpoint, nothing more,” the lord mumbled. “I shall have to look into indentureds instead.”
As if you could afford them, Cat thought to herself. Indentured servants still had to be paid and given a set term of employment.
Mr. Bridger only sneered and stalked off, leaving Ryman blushing in his wake.
“Quite sensitive for a sailor,” he grumbled. “And foolish. There’s money to be had here, and not enough labor to make it.”
Cat bit the inside of her cheek. “Slavery has been outlawed, by Church and Crown, my lord. He is merely faithful to both.”
At that, Ryman’s flush deepened, his cheeks the same scarlet as his namesake.
“And I’m not?” he growled, his voice dropping in a dangerous way.
“I did not mean—” Cat began, but was cut off by a shout from the topsails.
“Sail ho!” the spotter called, his tone harsh. He waved out at the sea, not towards the islands but away, past the Credence’s stern. Every face turned in the same direction, squinting out into the horizon.
Indeed, a sail appeared to the northwest, a white cloud quickly gaining in speed and size.
What it could be, Cat had no idea. But the crew moved as one, well trained in their business. To her surprise, half a dozen disappeared below. Her throat tightened.
The cannons are below.
Cat’s eyes snapped through the sailors around her, seeking a tricorne hat and round physique.
Lord Rose found him first, bustling across the deck.
“Captain Meedy, what is the meaning of this?” he said, reaching for the man’s arm.
But the captain brushed Lord Rose off as if he were a fly. Instead, he raised a spyglass, training the instrument on the approaching ship.
“What flag, sir?” the first mate called, his hands on the wheel at the helm.
Behind Cat, Sara whimpered, raising her hands to her face. “I knew it, we sailed too close to the Esperese island. It’ll be the green cross on their flag,” she said. “We’re done for.”