His gaze drifted to the row of shells arranged neatly upon the small table.Desi had been near giddy when she’d found them upon that beach onÎle Du Crâne, turning each one in her hand as if it were a relic of Eden itself.She saw wonder in all things, he thought.Hope, even when the world gave her none.He missed that light in her eyes, the laughter, the courage, even her strange turns of speech that left him half bewildered, half enchanted.
Above him, the timbers creaked and lines hummed in the wind.The sea tapped its endless rhythm upon the hull, as though whispering a prayer of its own.
“Lord,” he breathed, “will You bring her back to me again?”
His words melted into the murmuring sea, unanswered.
Setting the cat upon the floor, Caleb reached for the sheaf of parchment he had given her.The first page lay bare.But beneath it, her writing came into view.
I have found him.The hero of every story burning in my soul...
I have found him, the valiant champion of all my dreams, the victor, the warrior, the protector, and knight...
The man I have sought to create in every word I write...
I have found him, but by some twist of fate, he exists only beyond the bounds of time.
And I love him with all my being.
A breath shuddered from him.His vision blurred.Pressing the parchment to his chest, he bowed his head.She loved him.The words thundered through his soul, both balm and torment.And now she was gone.Forever.
“Captain.”
Brandt’s rough voice wrenched him from the moment.
Caleb turned, swallowing his grief.“Aye?”
“Alden’s askin’ for you.”
Good news, indeed.Folding the parchment with reverence, he slipped it into his coat pocket and strode into the corridor, the lantern light trailing him like a ghost.
“’Tis about time you roused, you lazy dog.”Caleb dropped upon the stool beside Alden’s cot.“I’ve no room aboard for shirkers.There’s work to be done.”
A faint grin pulled at Alden’s lips.“Aye, aye, Captain.I’ll be up on deck in a trice.”He made to rise, then gasped as pain lanced through him.Caleb pressed a steady hand upon his shoulder.
“Rest, man.You’ll have your chance to swab the decks soon enough.”
Alden chuckled weakly.“Ah, the Almighty knew you’d make a poor captain without me.”
Caleb smiled.“He knew I’d need your tongue, if not your sense.”
Truth was, he had missed Alden’s counsel—his humor, his faith, his ability to turn Caleb’s tangled thoughts into clarity.The past two days had been a fog of doubt and guilt.
A roll of the ship sent sunlight spilling through the window, gilding the quartermaster’s cabin in wavering gold.The air smelled of salt and linseed oil, with the faint metallic tang of blood and medicine.
“You look as though you’ve been hauled across a reef, Captain,” Alden observed.
“I’ve had better days.”Caleb braced his arms upon his knees.“I owe you an apology, Alden.I should never have used the Ring.”
Alden arched an incriminating brow.“Cannot say I didn’t warn you.”
“You did.And whether or not ’twas a result of the Ring, I was a fool to ignore you.”
“Faith, now!”Alden winced as he shifted.“You think that ball in my shoulder was chance?Of course ’twas the Ring.Naught good ever comes of meddlin’ with cursed things.”
“Don’t overtax him, Captain,” came Brandt’s weary voice.
Caleb turned.The surgeon stood in the doorway, a small vial glinting in his trembling hand.His coat hung askew, his eyes sunken with sleeplessness.
