His features flattened.
“No. But you …” His eyes crosshatched my face, searching. Wanting to asksomething,“You seem—”
“Captain!” A small boy called as he needled through the crowded room to the captain’s side. No older than ten, his little fingers mindlessly latched onto the captain’s chair in familiarity.
“How was your watch, Alistar?” the captain questioned as he clapped the boy on the shoulder, shaking the boy’s sandy cherub’s curls.
“Not a sea beast in sight, sir!” the boy exclaimed.
“Very good. Now go wash up and get yourself something warm to eat, sailor,” the captain instructed with authority, despite the ale reddening his cheeks.
“Yes, Captain,” the boy answered with a large smile, then scurried off.
“He’s quite young,” I remarked to the captain, leaning back in my chair as he did.
“Picked him up in Haverford. His father was a farmer, but when he died, the lands went to his brother who didn’t want another mouth to feed.”
“That’s awful,” I said softly.
“That is the world,” he said, turning to Chumly, who was going on with two other men about a time when he fed seagulls off the bow.
“The food splat right on me face, and the beasts dove and chased me! One even bit me arse!” The room rippled with laughter and so did the captain, his deep, cheerful laugh rumbling through my soul. This was nice. Good people eating, drinking, and being truly happy.
“Captain,” I asked, wanting those brilliant, sun-soaked eyes back on me.
“Yes,” he answered, half-listening.
“Alistar was on the lookout for beasts, is that what you said?” I asked.
“Yes, I give the shift to younger sailors,” he answered, his voice resonating richer than the deepest notes my left hand played on the virginal. I wish I could wield that sound, command it with the mere movement of a little finger.
“Personally, I feel far safer with Alistar on the lookout,” I joked in a murmur.
The captain smiled, leaned in, and whispered, “Between you and me, there are no beasts, at least not in these waters.”
The gentle, deep octave of his voice sank into my belly.
“Ah.” I savored him. His tone, those eyes. Both radiant and mild. Like a summer day. “Not a siren in sight then?”
The room instantly silenced.
The captain faced his crew, but their eyes were all turned to me.
“What did she say?” Chumly asked in a scared rasp. All welcome was leaving his face, replaced with guarded terror.
“Wish youhadn’tsaid that,” The captain said through clenched teeth, then stood from his chair and addressed his crew. “Let’s call it a night, men. We have an early start tomorrow.”
“But thewoman,she spoke of the monsters that haunt the seas, desiring the flesh of sailors and—” The word “woman” was on his lips like a swear.
“To bed with all not on night shift. That is an order,” the captain demanded.
The men reluctantly obeyed, the shuffle of their chairs and whispers overtaking the sound of the ocean’s rush.
The captain looked down at me, still in my chair. “You as well, Lady.” He nodded to the drucia standing by the door waiting for me. “Your chaperone waits.”
“What did I say that frightened them?” I asked, wondering what could strike such fear in sea-hardened men.
“Sirens.” He rolled his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. “There is talk of ships disappearing at the ports and sailors are a superstitious lot.”
