Until we weren’t even doing that.
The wind itself fled that place, cowering into stillness and leaving us adrift in waters so calm, I could barely tell we were on the ocean at all. I stood at the helm, my eyes scanning the waters for something that might act as a destination, but even if I’d found something, the sails hung empty and limp. In the crow’s nest, David had been standing silent for many hours with nothing to announce. No rocks. No waves. Night fell on a quiet tide and an even quieter crew as the men began filling their time with pointless work just to keep busy until finally, the few men appointed to keep a lookout were the only ones awake on the entire vessel.
Dahlia came to visit late into the night, dressed in one of my shirts and nothing else. She reached out for me, practically prying my hands off the pegs of the wheel.
“Come,” she said. “Nickolai will take over. You need rest.”
I sighed, barely realizing how long it had been since I’d closed my eyes or rested my legs. I relinquished control of the ship and forced myself to accompany Dahlia down into our cabin, my fingers chilled and my joints stiff. My clothes had been heavy with rainwater for some time, but I hardly noticed until Dahlia began to strip me of my garments. First my heavy coat. Then my boots and belts and baldric. My weapons. She removed pounds of weight until I was in nothing but my britches and then all but forced me to bed.
“I wish I could warm you,” she said, sitting down beside me. “But I’m afraid my body is unfit for such things.”
“Your presence warms me well enough,” I said.
Dahlia leaned in, her lips grazing my shoulder. “I do not know which is worse. A raging storm or this ongoing stillness.”
“Neither do I. But a breeze is sure to come.”
“I know.” She fell silent for a beat, her fingers playing along my forearm. “Do you think you might come to regret taking this journey?”
“What sort of question is that so late in our venture? Do you doubt my resolve already?”
“I do not think we’ve seen the worst of it. When we have, regret may follow, no matter what.”
“I have never shied from a dance with death. I will not start now. I knew not what kinds of challenges we would face on this journey, but I knew they’d be here. I regret nothing.”
Her eyes softened as if my words had stirred something in her. My siren was prone to feeling guilt, whether she had a part to play in a situation or not. I hated that I could not always soothe that part of her, but in the days to come, it would not matter. Guilt-prone or not, she never failed to stand when the time came to do so. I had more faith in her than I had in myself at times.
“We should sleep,” I said. “Perhaps tomorrow will bring the wind back.”
The two of us, exhausted by the demanding days behind us, rolled onto the bed and lazily fit our bodies together. I pulled her close to me, folding myself around her back like a puzzle piece. The instant I closed my eyes, I was asleep, hoping for a more promising morning to follow.
I jolted awake to an insistent rapping on the door of my quarters. Dahlia leapt out of bed first, reaching for her bone knife. She had yet to get used to reaching for her cutlass first.
“Cap’n,” someone said. “Better come look at this.”
I scrubbed the fatigue from my face and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress.
“Suppose that’s all the rest we’re getting,” I groaned, throwing on my still-damp clothes.
When I stepped out onto the deck to find the sails flat and the water placid, I let out a sharp breath of disappointment. My men were gathered at the starboard side of the ship, peering out into the sea. I pulled on my coat, realizing that there was a palpable bite in the air, and walked across the deck to join them. Mullins was the first to see me and immediately pointed toward the horizon.
Though it was morning, I could not see the sun. Thick, gray clouds covered the sky, muting the light in all directions. But it was the heavy fogbank in the distance toward which my men were gawking.
“It’s coming this way,” Mullins said.
“How? There’s no wind,” I said, glancing once more at the dead sails.
“Don’t know, but it’s definitely getting closer.”
Dahlia stepped up beside me, peering toward the oncoming wall of fog, but unlike everyone else, she didn’t seem surprised.
“What is it?” I said to her. “Tell me.”
“It’s fog,” she said simply.
“How’s it coming this way with no wind?”
“The same way the storm pulled us toward it. I told you, Theloch will bring us in.”
