With no other option available, she held her breath and took his hand.
Chapter 4
Joren had slept on and off for days, letting his body recuperate. Aside from brief meetings with James and Nigel, he’d spent much of the time on his back propped up by pillows like an invalid. Eliza had forbidden him to join them in work.
The way she spoke of his injuries made it sound like he’d been at death’s door.
He wondered if he had been. But if such were true, how had he survived at all, washed ashore as he had been? He had many questions and no answers.
Knuckles tapped against the door to his small stateroom, then it crept inward and Nigel peeked inside. Years ago, before everything fell to shit in Eisland, Joren had been familiar with every captain and almost all the officers under them. He’d considered it his duty as prince to know the people sailing for them. What he recalled of Nigel Gaumond indicated he was a noble fellow with keen wit and a good sword arm before he vanished with the Jolly Roger years ago to explore a life of piracy alongside Hook. Joren held no ill will against any of them anymore, relieved to discover the lies fed to him over the years couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“How are you feeling, Prince Joren?”
“Less like my skull has been split in half with an ice pick. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing wrong. James just wanted to know if you were up for a chat in his cabin.”
“Gods, yes. Anything to have an excuse to leave this bed. Eliza’s as much a spitfire as I remember.” And quite breathtaking, though she played on the same team as him and had no interest in men. A shame. He found her intriguing. And also a magician, one of the rigid “loose requirements” he’d set when he first began his bride search years ago. As misfortune would have it, no enchantress seemed willing to bind herself to him in marriage. And all women thereafter had an equal disinterest in him.
It was enough to shake a man’s confidence.
“Ha, I thought so. I’m to see you there safely. I’d offer to carry you as well, if I didn’t think you’d smite me for the suggestion.”
“Then I’m glad you’re not offering.”
He did, however, accept Nigel’s assistance in rising to his feet, suffering the loss of pride, as it was far better than cracking his head open on the cabin bulkhead.
Nigel led the way and spotted him up the ladderway through the hatch. It would have been most embarrassing if he tumbled down it and cracked his skull open anew.
The captain’s cabin had changed dramatically since the last time Joren was aboard the Jolly Roger, the wealth of its owner on display from one shelf to the next. It amused him to see James still made model ships and had added to the collection over the years.
James met him not far from the door and gestured Joren ahead of him toward a pair of plush, overstuffed armchairs and velvet divans arranged around a low table. “Ah. Great. So you were up to leaving your sickbed again after all, Your Highness. Please, have a seat.”
Joren grimaced. “I’ve been ready to leave it since Eliza put me into it.”
The former pirate laughed. “She can be a bit heavy-handed, but she means only the best. Enjoying your voyage aboard the Jolly Roger otherwise, I hope?”
“It’s always a joy to sail with you, James,” he said, as his host offered a teacup and saucer. He took both, looking sadly at the contents. “Even more so now, though this could stand to have some brandy in it. Or even a little rum.” He gave James a pointed look then shifted his gaze toward an enormous crystal decanter. The base resembled a flower, and the stopper was a kneeling fairy.
“Considered it, but Eliza says no alcohol for you until you’re on the mend.”
Joren sighed. “Very well. I’d hoped you would have pity for a fellow admiral, but so be it.” He sipped the rich brown brew and glanced around the updated stateroom. Flowering vines crawled up one wall of it and filled the air with a sweet scent. Some of them shimmered, providing light. Ivy spiraled around the bed posts, and the bedding was all green. “You’ve certainly upgraded the Jolly Roger since I was last aboard,” he said, also taking in all of the lace and frilly adornments.
“This wasn’t my doing. Belle went on a redecorating spree after the wedding. Said it was stuffy and boring.”
A frown twitched on Joren’s lips. “Our ships are never stuffy or boring. Well…to a fae, I suppose they would be. Don’t let Rapunzel hear you say it, though.”
“It was kind of your sister to allow us to keep the Jolly Roger. I hate to say it, but she’s grown on me over the years. I’m too attached to relinquish her to Eisland, though I know she rightfully belongs with you lot.”
“Think nothing of it, old man.” Joren laughed, though it hurt his head a little. “Besides, my sister harbors a soft spot for you. After the aid you gave us, I believe you could sail into our harbor at this moment, request one of our warships, and she’d fly out to ask which you fancied most.”
James laughed and ducked his head. “I’m happy with what I have, and pleased she’s found the same happiness in her life as I have in mine. How is her husband adjusting to his new role?”
“Muir takes to ruling well. He’s a far better king than I would have been, that’s for certain. I never enjoyed the idea of running a kingdom. Never wanted it.”
“I think you would have made a good king. A touch reckless, perhaps.” The former pirate poured two small glasses of rum, barely adding more than a splash to one. “Still, I understand. You’re more at home on the sea. In that, we’re much the same.”
“I’ll toast to that.” Joren accepted the glass with the meager contents and raised it to James’s. Sipping the liquor sent a pleasant trail of warmth down his throat, smooth and rich, and quite unlike most rums he’d tried before.
“You like?”
“I do. Where’s this from?”
“Wai Alei. They only make enough for themselves, obviously, but I’ve never tasted its equal. Tiger Lily always gives me a cask.” He paused, then added, “Don’t you dare tell Eliza I gave in.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, if…” Joren held out his glass for a refill, to which James obliged. “Now that I’ve been allowed to leave my sick bed, will you finally tell me what’s going on?”
James’s smile faded, thinning into a grim line. “You sure you’re up to it? Eliza said we shouldn’t stress—”
“I am, especially if your news has to do with the attack on my ship or the state of my men.”
“Yes, well, about that—”
“Hook. We have a problem,” Nigel announced as he stepped inside.
“Can’t this wait?” James asked. Joren fully agreed with him, irritated by the interruption.
“Sorry, Captain, but I don’t think it can.” He led a young woman into the cabin. From the looks of her, she couldn’t be more than twenty-three or twenty-four.
She also had the face of an angel born from the sky goddess, Siel. That was the only word Joren could think to describe her. As beautiful as the snow nymphs native to his land, but with an islander’s warmth and coloring. Her brown hair fell in soft waves down to her waist and her lips bowed in a perfect pout. Upon seeing James and Joren, she balked at proceeding until Nigel’s hand between her shoulder blades urged her forward.
Joren’s annoyance vanished in an instant.
“I don’t recognize you,” James began, his voice pleasant but puzzled.
“As though you know every soul on that island,” Joren objected.
“True enough.” James laughed. “What do we call you, milady, and why are you on my ship? You’re not the first stowaway I’ve ever had, but certainly the oldest.” At Joren’s questioning glance, he added, “The children. More than a few have tried to join the crew like Peter.”
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came forth. She snapped her lips shut again and frowned.
“Don’t be frightened, you’re not in any sort of trouble,” James continued. “But I do need to know your name so I c
an let Tiger Lily know.”
She remained silent, bare toes curling against the wooden floor.
Nigel’s brows drew close together. “I don’t believe she’s able to speak, James. She hasn’t uttered a word since Tom found her. We thought she must be starved, getting by on what’s in the hold these past days, but she wouldn’t say a thing.”
James was a tall man, dwarfing the younger woman, but his experience with the children gave him an advantage. He bent enough to put himself on her level, his smile unintimidating. “Is that so? If you’re unable to speak with us, simply nod your head.”
She nodded, then ducked her head shyly.
“Ah. Progress. She’s mute, but not deaf. Appears to understand us just fine without watching our lips.”
“What should we do? It isn’t too late to turn around—”
“It’s far too late, Nigel. We’re four days out from Neverland, and Joren is in no condition to remain at sea for a prolonged time.”
“Now wait a—”
“Your injuries may be healing, but you have men to recover. Every day spent returning to the islands would be a day wasted.”
Joren sighed. “Quite true.”
“She’ll simply have to come with us.”
The young woman clapped her hands together.
“Well, someone approves of the plan,” Nigel muttered, giving her a sidelong glance. “We’ll bunk her with Eliza, and ahh, hope she’s got appropriate garments on hand to share before we put the young lady to work. I imagine she’ll enjoy the fishing lines. Never a better fisherman aboard the Jolly Roger than when we have Little Wolf or Dancing Willow with us.”
Again, she clapped.
“Once we have a name from her. How do we know what to call you, young miss?” Joren asked.
A wide smile split across her face. She opened her mouth, paused, and then sighed, as if irritated with herself. Then she glanced down at the clamshell pendant resting against her bosom and touched it.
“Shell? Clamshell?” James guessed, earning a deepening frown from the woman.
Joren squinted at the shell and its color. It was a soft shade of blush pink, almost coral, so he hazarded a guess. “Coral Shell?”
She nodded.
“Coral Shell it is. If you’ll go with Nigel, he’ll see you situated.” James set his hand on her shoulder and gestured to his second-in-command. At his gentle nudge, she stepped away, but not before looking back at Joren, a deep furrow in her brow. Then she was through the door and beyond his sight.
“Bloody stowaways,” James muttered, pouring himself another glass. After a moment’s pause, he splashed some more into Joren’s glass. “What in Triton’s domain put such an idea in her head, I wonder?”
“Have you ever wondered if some of them seek a life of adventure beyond their island?”
James gave him a peculiar look, cocking a brow. “No. Why would they? They’re safe there, free of disease and poverty. No one starves. No one rapes. On the rare occasion when someone is out of hand, the community takes immediate action. What would be the point of leaving that behind?”
“Curiosity. They’re not all identical, mate.”
“Perhaps. Anyway, I should let you get back to resting.”
Joren cocked a brow. “Already? You wouldn’t be trying to get out of our earlier conversation, would you?”
“Guilty as charged.” He sighed heavily and reclaimed his seat. “Your men are safe on the Pink Unicorn, as we had no additional space aboard my vessel.”
Joren sagged in relief. That was an Oclander ship under James’s command. “How many?”
“Three dozen.”
Less than half his crew. His stomach twisted, threatening to bring the rum and tea back up. He dropped his head, drew in a deep breath, and counted backward from ten to calm his nerves.
“You all right?”
“I need more of that.” Joren thrust the glass out, and James obliged. “Tell me.”
“Your mage managed to cloak his boat and one—”
“He? You mean Baptiste then. What of Cara?”
“I’m sorry, my friend. Cara wasn’t among those rescued.”
“What about Camden?”
James shook his head. “I’m sorry. Baptiste reported that the Ridaerons captured the other longboats before he could conceal them. He had no line of sight to assist them and wagers the remainder drowned when the ship capsized.”
“No one else washed ashore?”
“Not that we’re aware, and Tiger Lily certainly would have mentioned it. The distance was incredible between the location of the wreck and where you washed ashore, Joren. The gods must have truly watched out for you that night.”
“I wish Triton had watched out for the others too. That would have been a better birthday gift.”
“Bloody hell, I’d forgotten it was your birthday.” James’s expression immediately sobered. “Your sister would have been devastated to lose you. No matter the source of your fortune, I pray this is a sign your luck will be looking up.”
“I hope so as well. I’ll need it if I’m to recover my countrymen from Ridaeron. I won’t leave them in enemy hands.”
“You can’t be serious. Joren, that ship is in Ridaeron by now.”
“I know. However, given that they attacked us first, it may be time to take the war to their shores.”
* * *
Nigel took Caecilia to another cabin and passed her into the care of the ship’s healer, a woman in sleeveless white robes, her flaxen hair bleached pale from the sun. She styled it in a single braid wound into a bun atop her head and she wore no makeup, contrasting what Caecilia had always expected of Eislandic women from James’s descriptions of the kingdom.
But she was kind, and her compassion mattered more than her attention to fashion. Like most of the rest of James’s crew during his days of piracy, Caecilia had only seen her in passing—never meeting her for an actual conversation.
“She understands Eislandic but doesn’t speak. Seems to go by the name Coral Shell.”
“Pretty name,” Eliza said.
“That it is. See if you can clean her up and get her dressed appropriately for ship work.”
“Sure thing.”
Eliza shut the door behind Nigel and turned to face Caecilia, smiling. “Well. Seems you and I shall be bunkmates for a time. I’m Eliza, as you must have heard. So…” She moved to a chest at the foot of the bed and tossed open the lid. “I have tunics, leggings, and pants a plenty, some of which I’ve had tailored for Dancing Willow when she sails with us. You and she are almost similar in height.”
Pants. Caecilia frowned as she regarded the strange garments. Even the men on the island rarely wore them, preferring loose-fitting garments they could easily shed to go into the water. She stepped back from the offerings and shook her head, then smoothed her hands down the dress Ghost Hawk had given her.
“This is a pretty dress, but it’s in need of a wash, yes?” Eliza asked, gesturing to the floral-themed white and red dress. “Let’s get you into a hot bath, and then we’ll figure out what to do about clothing. You must be longing for one.”
In other words, she stank. While she’d been aware of it and absolutely miserable living with the smell of four-day-old sweat on her skin while hiding from the crew, she’d been equally petrified they’d discover her and return her to the island.
Eliza led her behind a wooden screen painted with butterflies and tropical blossoms. A porcelain tub awaited her with a deep basin, sitting on four little feet. The healer knelt there, turned the two gilded knobs, and water poured from the gleaming pipes.
Caecilia gasped and darted over to admire both and twist them, delighted by the ingenuity.
Humans truly could make wonderful things.
“Careful, you’ll make it too cold if you keep that up. See? This one controls cold and this one hot. I prefer a nice, steaming soak myself. Would you like me to hold onto that pendant, too?”
Caecilia clapped both hands ove
r the pink shell and shook her head.
“Very well then. I don’t suppose a few suds and a little soap will harm it.”
Lacking human modesty, Caecilia stripped out of her dress and tossed the linen skirts onto the floor. Eliza made a quiet noise of surprise—or had it been admiration? The tub wasn’t as deep as the grottos she liked to soak in around the island, but the warmth was a delightful change. Then Eliza added the soap, revealing the tub’s true magic: bubbles. The delicate spheres released the scent of flowers each time one burst.
“I see you like it. Good. I’ll let you soak while I wash your dress. In this heat it should dry quickly.”
She wished she could express her thanks but the most she could do was bow her head. It must have been enough, because Eliza smiled before leaving her to bathe alone. She sunk down and doused her hair, taking complete pleasure in washing away the dust and sweat. By the time her water began to cool, Eliza had returned and introduced her to the wonders of scented lotion and silken powders. Then she brought out the clothes again.
Caecilia did not care for the leggings or the boots. She sighed, ran her fingers through her damp curls, and eyed the plain white shirt tucked into fitted black pants.
“I know. It isn’t the height of fashion, but options are limited when on a naval vessel. I don’t like to tease the men. They’ve got self-control enough that I could walk out stark naked and they wouldn’t touch me, far better than other kingdoms whose womenfolk aren’t even allowed on a ship except as bedroom playmates.” She made a disgusted sound in her throat. “Honestly, I couldn’t work with my skirts blowing up in my face anyway.”
Caecilia stared glumly at the dull shades and nodded.
“You know, I might have a scarf or two you can tie around your waist for some color. Let me grab—”
The door to her cabin banged open, framing Nigel. “Eliza! You’re needed in the prince’s cabin. Something’s wrong with him. He’s taken a sharp turn for the worse.”
“What? But he was mending!”
Sea Witch and the Magician Page 5