Every muscle in her body tensed. "What do you mean, working together?"
Commander Thorne released a heavy exhale, his patience waning. "You and Mr. Blume weren’t under the impression you’d be getting a free ride, were you?"
Vivienne’s mouth opened, then closed, her gaze darting between Thorne and Cirrus.
"Miss Banner," the commander continued, unmoved by her unease, "you will report to Officer Theodosia as the Sailing Master’s Mate."
The words twisted her stomach in knots. Being under Cirrus again—and the word ‘mate’ in the same sentence—made her nauseous.
"Commander Thorne," she forced through clenched teeth, "I’d be happy to take on another assignment better suited to my skill set."
A muscle jumped in the commander’s jaw. "The Chancellor informed me you’ve spent the last year working with maps in the Library of Metis."
"Well, yes, but?—"
"Then it’s evident you should work with the officer responsible for maps and navigation," he cut her off, finality in his tone.
She opened her mouth to argue, but there was no way around it.
"Excellent," Thorne said briskly, his expression unreadable. He turned to Lewis. "Mr. Blume, you will assist Doctor Mercer as the Surgeon’s Mate. Perhaps your familiarity with medicinal plants can be of use."
Before either of them could protest, Captain Garrett clapped his hands together. "Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s cast off before we lose the tide."
"Aye, Captain," Thorne nodded before turning his sharpened gaze back to Lewis and Vivienne. "Since you are of no use to me, do try and stay out of the way."
Vivienne narrowed her eyes at him as Lewis scoffed.
"Rude," he muttered to her.
Commander Thorne raised his whistle to his lips and blew a sharp sequence of notes.
"Hands to stations! Prepare to cast off!"
The command rippled through the ranks, relayed by the officers as the deck erupted into a symphony of motion. Sailors scrambled to their posts, hoisting ropes, scaling the rigging, and moving cargo as dockhands loosened the thick ropes tethering the Zephyrus to the pier.
Thorne’s voice pierced through the clamor. "Weigh anchor!"
Gus ‘skullcrusher’ Conway, a behemoth of muscle and ink, bellowed, "Heave away!"
A team of sailors sprang into action, gripping the long wooden bars attached to the capstan. Their muscles strained as they pushed forward in synchronized effort, the heavy chain rattling as the anchor rose steadily from the water.
"Anchor secure, sir!" Gus called, his thunderous voice carrying over the ship.
Captain Garrett stepped forward, his commanding authority unmistakable. "Release the bow and stern lines!"
Thorne parroted the order, and dockworkers hurried to unfasten the last ties binding the Zephyrus to shore.
The captain’s gaze lifted to the towering masts. "Loose the mainsail and topsail!"
Gus relayed the command. "Loose the sails! Get those lines moving!"
Above them, sailors worked quickly, releasing the bindings holding the massive sails in place. The canvas unfurled with a resounding snap, billowing as the wind filled them like breath filling lungs.
"Helm, steer us away from the dock!"
The helmsman nodded, gripping the wheel with steady hands, guiding the ship into open water.
Commander Thorne moved seamlessly through his orders, his voice precise as a scalpel. "Brace the yards! Trim the sails for a port tack!"
