My stomach lurches, forcing me to pause and close my eyes else lose my very hastily eaten breakfast. With a huge exhale, I press on, reaching the top after what could have been eternity.
Two males offer their arms as I pull myself up.
I take neither.
Sweeping past them, I rip down the hood and cowl over my face and gasp for air, hoping to quell my rolling nausea and calm my racing heart. I stare at the darkened gray sky, perching my handson my hips.
Eve appears beside me, curling an arm around my shoulders. “Hey,” she says. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I reply with a weak nod as I continue to steady my breathing. Deep, even breaths. “I’m fine.”
She laughs. “Consider not lying for once, Ves.” She pats my back.
I lower my gaze, meeting the shocked stare of a few sailors.
“By the Aether, you’ve brought Celesta aboard, Captain,” one of the men says, his eyes wide.
The slap of regret is sharper than the damn wind.
Despite cold-numbed fingers, I raise my cowl and hood, tucking my braided hair away. Ryc joins me, staring intensely at the man before turning to me. Connak walks past, giving the man a friendly slap on the shoulder.
“Possibly, Saren,” he says, laughing. “But in what world would a goddess ever allow a brute likeyouto see her?”
Saren clamps his mouth shut as the few others around laugh. Connak turns to face us, but continues backpedaling across the deck. He gestures for us to follow.
“Set sail for Illa Ysari,” he calls out. He pulls a flat, silver container from his coat pocket. “If you’re like Saren and believe you’ve seen a goddess—no, you didn’t. If you believe you recognize our passengers—no, you don’t. And if you believe your curiosity will get the better of you, might I remind you to keep your eyes and your minds focused on your jobs. Am I clear?”
A syncopated chorus of voices all call out the same answer—aye.
Grinning, Connak pops open the container and plucks a cigarillo from a row of others. He whirls on his heels to walk forward, but swings his arm back as he peers over his shoulder.
He offers the open silver container.
“Smoke?” he asks with lifted brows.
“No, thank you,” Ryc replies with a single nod.
I shake my head.
He peeks between us, to Cyran and Eve. “And you two?”
Eve declines with a gesture and shake of her head and Cyran gives the same answer as Ryc. The Captain snaps the container shut, shoving it back into his coat pocket with a shrug.
“We’ll discuss a few things in my office as the crew gets us going,”he says.
Looking overhead, he shouts.
If it’s common tongue, I don’t understand a single word.
But the others on deck do. Sails rise and people ferry into high-hoisted baskets, each of them in their own swirl of fierce wind. There are close to a dozen of them spread amongst the three-sailed masts, bellowing out orders and whistled calls of their own.
We follow Connak up a small flight of stairs, and while he ignores the massive, intricately carved wooden wheel featuring orderly, jutting spokes, I do not. Each is shaped like a mermaid, a busty one at that. As he passes, Connak gives the closest mermaid an affectionate pat.
Is bawdiness a universal sailor trait?
Light take me.
Connak opens a rather short door, dipping to ensure his head doesn’t meet the frame. Ryc does the same. Eve, Cyran… they do as well.
