25
Doraan
Itwasanewday, and theCursed Soulwas wrecked. They wouldn’t be sailing anywhere any time soon. Doraan’s teeth chattered as he wrapped his cloak tighter around him. An unseasonable bone-aching chill had swept in overnight, bringing a flurry of snow that had blanketed the ship in sparkling white.
Doraan looked out toward the shore where the snow fall hadn’t reached and to where Kamira had not yet appeared. He didn’t like her being out there alone. His stomach hadn’t settled since she left—it was stuck in a constant roiling loop since the very moment she got off the ship.
Over the past week, Doraan had formed an attachment to her, a friendship that filled a gaping hole in his heart—one that his parents had ripped into him. She cared for him, cared about what happened to him, and he cared for her as well.
A helplessness settled into his limbs, keeping him constantly on edge since Forcina’s visit. He knew she had gone to Neilmaar in search of Kamira. His only reprieve—which was minuscule in comparison to his overflowing unease—was that Forcina had actually seemed scared of what the reality of Kamira on their ship meant. He had seen just a sliver of fear wiggling its way beneath her surface, digging a pit of doubt in her mind, and that gave him just a bit of satisfaction. He trusted Kamira; he had to because that small chink in Forcina’s armor had ignited his hope. Kamira would help them break free of the curse. She would come back, and they would all finally make it home, stepping foot on dry, solid ground for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
“The foremast is too far gone.” Cormac came up beside Doraan, ice crunching beneath his boots. “We’ve switched out the aft and course sails with the old ones, which should be good enough for now, but they won’t last much longer. The other sails will have to be mended.”
Doraan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose against the throbbing that had pooled there. “Do we have enough supplies to patch them?”
He nodded, solemnly. “We’ll make do, Cap’n.”
Doraan knew what that really meant—the crew would have to give up whatever spare clothing they had left.
“Not all is lost,” Cormac murmured, resting a hand on Doraan’s shoulder.
“It is if we can’t sail.”
“We will make it work. We always do. We can sail without a foremast.”
“At the pace of a snail,” he grunted, pushing Cormac’s hand off his shoulder and stepping over a splintered piece of the portside railing as he headed toward the hull.
“Where are you going?” Cormac called after him.
“To find any clothing that Kamira hasn’t stolen yet,” he huffed. “We need to be ready to sail by the time she gets back.”
It had taken half the day, but they managed to get theCursed Soulas ready to sail as they could. The sails were patched, the damaged masts salvaged—except for the foremast, of course—and the ship was still afloat. It would sail, but it wouldn’t be pretty while doing it.
“Ahoy!” Doraan spun at Jorne’s exclamation to see the orange-haired man waving excitedly to someone in the ocean below.
“Kamira,” Doraan whispered, instantly dropping the rope he was tying and hobbling his way toward Jorne just in time to see a head of auburn curls pop up over the railing as Jorne helped her climb aboard.
Doraan didn’t stop. He practically barreled into her and wrapped his arms around her. “Skies, I thought you weren’t coming back,” Doraan breathed, pulling Kamira against him, taking in the scent of lemon and sea breeze that clung to her. The tension instantly melted from him as his heart eased, settling back into his chest where it belonged.
“I’ve only been gone a day, Doraan.”
“Two full days,” he corrected.
“Alright, one night then. You didn’t think it would take me just a few hours to find out what you needed, did you?”
“No,” he huffed, breaking their embrace. “I was just worried.”
She looked up at him smiling and said, “I missed you, too.”
“Kamira! What in the bloody seas happened to your face?”
She chuckled. “I may or may not have been unintentionally involved in a tavern brawl.”
He was speechless, the words frozen on his lips, as he tried to sputter a string of questions, but her eyes caught on something behind him. Her smile suddenly turned down into a frown as she gasped and pushed past him. “What happened to the ship?”
“Forcina,” he said, solemnly.
She spun on him. “I saw her in the city. She was looking for me, wasn’t she?”
