The ship’s no dinghy either. Ten cannons on each side, sails so spotless you’d think the gods themselves blessed them. A real beauty—a beast that could snap Gypsy’s schooner in two without breaking a sweat.
But let’s deal with one disaster at a time, yeah?
“Set the damn sails, or we’ll lose them!” My voice cuts through the storm like a blade.
Every head snaps in my direction, eyes wide, drowning in fear. Not surprising. These men are in way over their heads. They’ve never seen a storm like this, and they have no idea how to survive it.
Well, I’m your ticket out of this, lads. Stick with me, and you might make it through without losing more than your breakfast.
I shove past the captain, grabbing the wheel. His grip slackens in relief when I take the responsibility off him, but the doubtin his eyes tells me he’s already questioning his decision to step aside.
“Unfurl the sails!” I shout again. This time, there’s no hesitation. The deck erupts in motion. Sailors scramble, ropes fly, sails snap open to catch the wind. The ship surges forward, cutting through the chaos as wave after wave crashes against the bow.
“One disaster at a time, Zayan,”I recall Roche’s words in my head. “The storm is a bag full of disasters. If you try to handle them all at once, the sea will swallow you whole.”
But this storm is something else. In my whole life of sailing the seas, I have never had to tame wavesthistall.
“Don’t fear the storm!” I call out to the men even though it feels like I’m talking to myself. “This ship’s sterner than you think! She can handle it!”
I hear a couple fear-filled ‘aye’s here and there that are roared by cracked voices and clutched throats. The fear is so thick I can nearly taste it in the breeze.
And yet, even with the stench of it engulfing me, and the sight of deep black waters all around me, there’s only one thing on my mind. Her.
My eyes are locked on the little schooner she steers. I can barely make out her figure, a tiny speck against the chaos of the sea, but I know she’s there.Gypsy. Always so damn far out of reach, always so fucking far.
“We… we can’t unfurl completely!” the so-called captain beside me stammers. His voice is trembling, like he’s already half-drowned. “It’s too dangerous! This isn’t worth our lives!” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “This is sure death!”
The second his fingers touch me, something snaps inside me. I whip my head toward him, eyes locking onto his with a cold, deadly calm.
“Get your hands off me,” I growl, my voice low enough to make him flinch. “The sea’s no place for cowards. Are you a sailor or not?”
His hand falters, lips trembling like he’s about to break. Sure, he’s a sailor, but he’s not built like me. Not the type to look death in the eye and laugh. His gaze shifts to the horizon, where the clouds gather thick and dark, like vultures circling a carcass.
“Save us, Lady,” he mutters under his breath. For a second, I think he’s about to collapse right there on deck. But then, something clicks. Maybe it’s resolve. Maybe it’s madness. Hell, could be both. He suddenly shouts to the crew, “Listen to the pirate!”
Like they needed his approval. The men are a mess, huddled in corners, too scared to even lift a damn finger. But a few of them stir, dragging themselves to their feet, as if some half-dead instinct’s kicking in. Discipline? No, not anymore. They’re running on fumes and fear.
Then the ship lurches hard, the deck tipping like it’s trying to throw us all overboard. I grip the wheel tight, knuckles white, the only thing keeping me from being tossed with the rest of them. Men slip, hit the deck. From below, I can hear prayers, desperate and useless.
Should’ve stayed in their corners after all
“Pirate!” The captain’s voice cracks, barely holding it together. “Our lives are in your hands! Keep her steady, don’t let us die!”
What the hell does he think I’m trying to do?
I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on the wheel until my fingers go numb. Not that I can feel much anymore. The cold’s sunk its teeth into me, and my feet feel like blocks of ice.
“Move it, you bastards!” I shout over the storm, voice raw and torn from the salt and wind. “You!” I jab a finger at some sorry soul who looks seconds from passing out. “Get that flag up—now!”
I pull out my flag—the one Gypsy knows. It’s soaked, half its size in this storm, but it’s all I’ve got. Maybe if we hoist it high enough, she’ll see it. Maybe she’ll know I’m right on her tail. Maybe—just maybe—she’ll turn her ship around.
Or hell, maybe she’ll just speed off even faster to escape me. Wouldn’t surprise me. But I’ll be damned if I don’t at least give her something to think about.
The poor fool scrambles to hoist the little grey flag, and soon it’s snapping against the wind.
The ship creaks and groans beneath me, fighting to stay upright as we smash through another wave. I can barely make out the schooner, just a flash of sails before the storm swallows it whole.
But hell, that’s nothing compared to what Gypsy’s dealing with out there. I squint through the rain, and there she is—her schooner tossed around like a toy in a child’s tantrum. One wrong move, and she’s finished. Her sails catch a wild gust, and for a moment, the ship tilts, teetering on the edge of disaster.
