Marcus kept his attention on Vi. “What did you do in service of Lord Le’Dan?”
She hadn’t given much thought to her cover story. Then again, she hadn’t exactly had much time to do so. She was supposed to be a daughter of a servant in service to the Le’Dans. Vi’s mind scanned over her memories from the Le’Dan estate.
“I worked in the smithy.” Holding out her hand, fingers skyward, the tips of her middle and index ignited like candles.
At nearly the same moment the man’s hand clasped around hers, as though he were catching a fly. Confirming her earlier suspicion, water dripped from his palm; Vi’s fire snuffed out. Marcus scowled at her.
“Are you mad?” He tightened his grip and Vi fought a wince. “Fire on a boat is a recipe for disaster.”
“I had control,” Vi insisted.
“Bloody Firebearer,” Marcus muttered, throwing her hand aside. Vi wiped it on the inside of her cloak. “Not again on my vessel, understood?”
“Understood.” Vi barely contained a scowl. He was helping her, and he owed her nothing. She was merely Holly, the servant’s daughter, after all. She had no right or room for righteous indignation.
“What else can you do?”
“I’m very good with maps,” Vi offered after thinking a moment. “I’ve taken notes on the seas.” Vi lifted the journal she’d been clutching for emphasis.
That seemed to give him pause but in a positive way this time. “Is that so? Perhaps there’ll be genuine use for you yet… but that’s up to Kora.”
She hoped so. She didn’t like the idea of being nothing more than cargo. But if that was what she must be, she’d be a quiet, harmless lump and give them no reason to question handing her off at their destination… wherever that may be.
Under the quarterdeck, down a few steps, were three larger cabins. On either side were additional stairs leading into the hull of the ship where Vi heard movement—no doubt the crew. She looked down past the swaying lanterns, barely making out hammocks tied up. Behind one of the doors, she heard ruffling feathers and the occasional squawk.
“You’ll be in here.” Marcus started for one of the cabin doors.
“We have our own cabin?” Vi asked skeptically.
“Of course not.” He laughed at the ridiculous notion. “Women share. Not putting them in the hold with the rest of the lads. We only have two other lasses aboard. Lucky for you, one of them is our navigator. Perhaps you’ll make friends.”
He opened the door to a dark room. There were bunks bolted down on either side of the narrow cabin, the two bottom beds occupied.
“Your stuffs up there.” Marcus pointed toward the top bunk on the right. “And yours is there,” he said to Jayme, pointing to the other. “But you can fight between you for who gets which top bunk.”
“You are so annoyingly loud, Marcus,” one of the two occupants of the room hissed from underneath her woolen blanket.
“Your new hands are here. Make sure they don’t get in the way, ladies.”
With a palm in the center of their backs, Marcus pushed her and Jayme into the cabin and shut the door. Neither of the women stirred again. Vi and Jayme shared a look.
“Try to get some sleep,” Jayme whispered, leaning close.
Vi gave a small nod and was left climbing the bunk Marcus had said held her things. Sure enough, there was an unassuming sack. Within was an assortment of functional clothes that actually looked as if they’d fit. She glanced over to Jayme to find the woman was looking on in approval, having made a similar assessment of her own bundle.
Erion’s tailors had worked quickly to learn their measurements. Vi scanned the few clothes, shoved them back into the bag, and tried to push every negative thought and worry away with them.
Her hands smoothed over the familiar leather of her journal. This was all she had now. The further she went, the more she would give up. That was the way it had to be.
Vi looked down at her wrist. The fingers of her right hand rested on the leather wrap that remained firmly affixed, rolling the wooden bead over the skin of her forearm. The bracelet Ellene had given her, a watch around her neck, a journal of her notes, and the knowledge of her true name was all Vi had of her past life.
She was willing to give everything to find her father and a cure for her mother, and help her people. Yet she’d always assumed “everything” meant death. She never thought she could give up her life while still breathing.
The sun was beginning to wink through the slats in the porthole cover. Dawn was breaking, and she’d barely slept. Mimicking Jayme, she used her sack of clothing as a pillow and tucked her cloak under her feet. One ear continued to listen to the docks, waiting for the sounds of Elecia’s Western Guard coming for her… but it was quiet, only the sound of water sloshing against the hull breaking the regular hum of sailors moving about.
Vi’s eyes met Jayme’s across the narrow room. They seemed to glisten in the low light. Vi’s insides twisted; she hoped her friend was not fighting back tears of regret.
Are you sure?Jayme mouthed slowly.
