“You’re the Flying Dutchman.” It was a statement, rather than a question, and spoken with a hard edge of suspicion. The fishing boat creaked, and the wood groaned loudly as it tipped ever more precariously over the water.
“So I’ve been called. But as long as you are not smugglers or thieves, you have nothing to fear from me.”
The fae seemed to hesitate for a moment. A particularly angry swell rose up underneath them, nearly capsizing the longboats, and it crashed over the railing of the fishing vessel, attempting to pull the crew with it when it receded.
“We’ll go with you.”
A few stressful, tenuous moments later, the crew of six fae were safely aboard the longboats. Casper and the bearded fellow watched as the abandoned boat disappeared beneath the churning surface of the water. Casper barked out an order, and his men strained at the oars, fighting the choppy waves as they rowed back to thePetrel. The storm seemed to be finally wearing itself out, and the wind howled with less ferocity than before.
Even after they were safely gathered on deck, the rescued fishermen huddled together, eyeing Casper’s crew with fear and suspicion and whispering fervently amongst themselves. Casper tried his best not to let their behavior bother him, but he couldn’t help but feel a prickly of annoyance that he had given up a chance to intercept the smugglers, and was instead rewarded with dark, distrusting looks, even after he and his men had practically pulled the fae from the sea.
But that’s what she wanted—for us to always be outcasts, never trusted and never loved.
“Wow. With that face, it’s no wonder they look at you with fear in their eyes.” Jem joined him at the helm. “As my dear Mormor used to say, ‘Dark clouds on the brow mean a storm in the heart.’” He waited a beat. “It was usually followed by, ‘If you keep making that face, it will stay that way.’”
Casper rolled his eyes. “Do you never work?”
Jem pounded a hand dramatically to his chest, as if struck. “And the storm has lightning!” He wiped the rain from his face and followed Casper’s line of sight to where the fishermen were gathered in a little huddle by the mast. “I’ve checked in with Short John and Longest John; everything is in order here. ThePetreltook a bit of a beating, but it’s nothing we can’t fix in a day or two. Since the weather appears to be dying down, there’s no reason to be concerned.”
“And the smuggler ship?”
“We lost sight of her shortly after she passed through the breach.”
Casper sighed. “I expected as much.”
“And yet you let them get away.” Jem was looking at him with a serious, pointed expression.
His eyebrows shot up to the edge of his knit cap. “What else was I supposed to do? Let those fae drown?”
“I would have led a mutiny if you did,” his first mate answered easily, linking his hands behind him and rocking back on his heels. “But you didn’t, because you are not the villain you have somehow made yourself in your own story—quite the opposite, really.”
Casper looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not a hero, Jem.”
“You have enough honor and compassion to come to the aid of an unfortunate stranger, even if it comes at a great personal cost to yourself. That sounds at least alittleheroic.”
“You forgot the part where I stole the lives of my entire crew, forcing them to give up their homes and families and wander aimlessly over the seas in an entirely different realm. That sounds at least alittlevillainous.”
He left his post before Jem could respond, motioning for one of his men nearby to take over as he slowly approached the fae crew. Movement in his peripherals alerted him to Jem’s presence close at his heels, but he ignored it. All six of the fishermen immediately stopped talking as he came close, and the bearded one stepped forward, offering his hand.
“My name is Daland.” His voice was steady, though his hand shook slightly when Casper shook it. “Please allow us to express how thankful we are for your assistance earlier.”
Casper dipped his chin in a quick nod, acknowledging the thanks. “I’m thankful we happened to be in the area.” The thought struck him suddenly how strange it was that a fishingvessel was also sailing so close to the breach in the middle of a storm, but he kept his suspicions to himself. “You’re the captain, I presume?”
“It was my ship, yes. Though it’s been many years since I could properly be called a captain. We were all simply trying to make the most of the coming storm.”
Casper raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You purposefully went fishing during bad weather?”
“The fish always bite more right before a storm. It’s a gamble, but one that can pay off if you time things right.” Daland crossed his arms defensively, widening his stance as if preparing for a fight.
“And end in disaster if you don’t,” Jem cut in cheerfully. “As my dear old Mormor used to say, ‘A fish in the hand is worth two in the sea, and an empty boat on the waves is better than a full one beneath.’”
Casper exhaled heavily through his nose. “I didn’t realize your grandmother had an interest in fishing.”
“Oh, you know Mormor,” Jem answered with an airy wave. “Even if she didn’t have any knowledge on a subject, she still had an opinion. So,” he continued, turning his attention to Daland. “I would imagine with a boat that size that you must be local to the area? Where can we return you?”
Daland’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two of them, obviously surprised by the casualness of their conversation. “I—we—that is, yes. We’re from Nivem.”
A squawk of protest sounded from one of the fishermen behind him. “It’s bad enough that we’re to die at the hands of ghosts, but now you intend on setting them after our families as well?”
