The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  “Are you saying I could become immortal?” Shea clarifies.

  “Yes,” Poseidon answers.

  “Could Perses? Does he know about this?”

  “Yes, I believe he does.”

  “If that happens. I don’t know how we’d stop him,” Shea murmurs.

  Poseidon smiles. “It won’t happen because we’re going to stop him before he can accumulate enough power. Besides, even if it did, I doubt Perses would survive the change. The change is a gift, children who survive are usually those who earn it or, well, acquire it in other ways.”

  “What other ways?”

  Poseidon opens his mouth to respond but is cut off when Beck interrupts them by hugging Shea. He picks her off the floor and spins her around.

  Shea laughs, smacking him on the shoulder to put her down.

  “Look at you.” He laughs, examining her healed eye. “We’ve got to show Jo. She’ll be thrilled.”

  Shea grins at him but she doesn’t leave just yet. She waits for Poseidon to answer her question.

  “You run along; the lesson is complete for today. You should tell your fiancée the good news,” Poseidon remarks, gesturing to his own left eye before walking away to the bow.

  “This is fantastic,” Beck exclaims.

  He pulls on her hand to walk with him to the medical bay.

  Shea nods distractedly, staring back at her father, wondering what he meant by other ways to acquire immortality. But Beck’s pulling becomes insistent and she thinks about Poseidon’s advice. Perhaps she could push her responsibilities away for one day and focus on the wonders of magic.

  Chapter 19: Kindred

  Shea

  Jo’s expression when she saw Shea’s healed eye had been one of shock, for lack of a better word. She was standing in the medical bay with Nol looking over a shriveled monster hand from one of their previous encounters while the good doctor was extracting some kind of liquid from the creature’s claws.

  She’d kissed Shea so sweetly that the captain didn’t notice that Beck had delivered her there and then left without a word.

  The disappearance wasn’t a surprise, but the longing she felt from his absence was something that caught her off guard.

  Nol excused Jo for the day to enjoy this little miracle, and they spent the time together, talking and just being with one another.

  Her magic was still thrumming through her body even after dinner passed, and as Shea got ready for bed with Jo, she found she couldn’t sleep.

  She assured Jo that she was fine, got dressed again, and decided to join whoever was on deck for the night, giving Caen the evening to relax. To her surprise she’d seen Poseidon and him talking at dinner; she tried to ask him about the moment of civility, but he dodged her question and headed off to rest.

  Now, on her first round of the perimeter, she runs into an unexpected crew member.

  “I don’t remember assigning you to a night shift, Governor,” Shea teases, sneaking up behind Beck.

  Night has completely fallen, and the deck lamps are lit, shining brightly against the black. Everyone but James and the naval officer in the crow’s nest are down below, either in bed or at the mess hall.

  Beck is in the harpoon launcher fiddling with some part of the mechanics, an untouched bowl of stew on the ground, and colorful swear words spewing from his mouth. Parts and tools lie haphazardly around the machine, and Beck is still cursing by the time she sneaks up on him.

  The starlight is bright over the water, the closer they get to Orena and Tenaro the bigger the sky feels, like they’re sailing off the edge of the world straight into the night sky.

  Beck practically dives off the machine in shock as Shea comes up behind him. He manages to hang on for the most part, but eventually he loses his grip and lands back-first on the ground.

  “Bloody Underdeep, Hades’s balls, what the Thanatos are you doing out here?” Beck groans, trying to sit up but failing miserably.

  Shea laughs and helps him back to his feet.

  “I could ask you the same question, are you breaking my equipment?” Shea nods to the stripped harpoon launcher.

  “No! I mean no, I noticed that the firing gear was a bit sticky, thought I’d fix the launch time and make it a bit more efficient,” Beck explains.

  He’s got black grime all over his face. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up to his biceps, he seems to have also lost his shoes, and his black capris are the only material below his waist. She spots his boots by the rail wall.

  He notices her staring and looks down at his appearance. A soft blush fans across his cheeks.

  “Oh, I—it’s—just easier to work this way,” Beck tells her.

  Shea chuckles and holds up her hands in surrender. “No judgment here, I completely understand, you should see what I wear when I’m mapping,” she jokes.

  “Is that an offer?” Beck teases back, and Shea grins.

  “Careful, Governor, you’ll give a girl all sorts of crazy ideas.”

  The two dissolve into laughter, and as the laughter fades the other emotions are left, the unspoken want rigid in the air between them.

  Beck clears his throat and begins collecting the tools from around the launcher.

  “Great sparring matches the other night,” Shea tells him, trying to keep the conversation going.

  She doesn’t want it to end and she inwardly hates herself for it.

  “Yeah?” Beck says, glancing over to her.

  “Yeah, you’re a great fighter.”

  “Well, I learned a lot from my dad,” he says.

  He takes a rag off the launcher and starts cleaning his hands. He leans back against the railing, facing Shea.

  Shea’s eyes roam over his shoulders and she’s taken back to the other night.

  The crew had been antsy after a day out at sea. They'd had an encounter with some kelpies trying to rock the ship by barreling mercilessly into the hull.

  Caen had been ready to give the order to fire upon them, but Poseidon had stopped them.

  He'd walked out to the rail's edge and whistled down to the creatures below, still ramming their bodies into the ship. It was a mesmerizing tune, and to Shea's surprise from the afterdeck's rail, she watched as her crew became visibly drunk off the melody.

  Various deck men swerved and tripped as the creatures calmed, and the song came to an end.

  Even Caen had found himself tangled in the rope from the mast rigging. The kelpies had dove off into the briny blue after that, and Poseidon had continued on his way to the bow whistling a tune without an enchantment, but it still earned him nervous looks from the rest of the men and women.

  Caen had suggested sparring matches to cool down everyone's nerves and bring the crew of the Duchess closer to the Arethusian Navy men and women.

  Shea agreed with the tactic, so later that night, under the full moon on the quarterdeck, they lit the torches and spouted the rules. Swords were fine, but only swords: no killing and no cheap shots. The winner starts next round with a volunteered opponent.

  The soldiers had looked at her waiting for more rules of engagement, but they soon realized there weren't anymore.

  Shea watched a few matches; she'd given James the deck for the evening commanding the night crew till morning.

  Jo even came up for a while and watched a couple of duels with her before retiring down below. Shea was about to turn in for the night as well.

  Caen had entered the matches and had been the winner for four rounds; however, the pirates knew the brawls were over even if a few of the soldiers didn't.

  But a loud voice volunteered to fight Caen for his fifth round, and it had Shea turning her attention back to the ring immediately.

  Beck stepped into the ring, ignoring the objections of the two Oceanan soldiers he'd come on board with. Shea decided she wanted to see this, and her crew parted for her so she could watch from the inner ring of surrounding men and women.

  Caen had laughed, but something in Beck's smir
k had Shea intrigued. Caen waited a moment for him to make the first move. She could tell her quartermaster was impressed when he didn't, so

  Caen took the first swing.

  Beck quickly slid aside as the blade swung down. He ducked and parried each parting blow from Caen.

  Shea grinned as she realized his strategy.

  Beck was using Caen's height against him. Finally, as Caen swung down one last time, Beck somersaulted past and brought his sword up to rest against the back of Caen's neck, now behind him. He was achieving all of this with barely an offensive move.

  Caen could have easily disarmed him in this position, and with the crew cheering and hollering, Shea wondered if he would do it to save his pride. But she could see the amusement on Caen's face, and he dropped his sword in a surrender allowing the younger man to win.

  Beck dropped his sword as well, and the two clasped hands in a truce. Caen had taken Beck's hand and lifted it in the air.

  "Anyone willing to take on the champ who beat me?" Caen teased and glanced around the circle of men and women. Most of the soldiers and pirates jeered and shouted, even held their hands up in surrender and shook their heads.

  But Shea watched Beck's full grin and his confident style as he taunted the others while Caen laughed.

  "I'll take a shot at it."

  The circle went silent, and all eyes landed on Shea. But the eyes she waited for are a deep crushed cocoa brown, and they found her as soon as she spoke.

  Beck's smile turned into a teasing grin, and Caen lowered the younger man's hand.

  "We have a challenger," Caen announced.

  The crew paused for either Beck to say something or Shea to move, but the captain waited for him to accept her challenge.

  "It'd be an honor," Beck bowed mockingly.

  The crew went wild, heckling each other, and so Shea took off her coat. She grabbed Caen's sword and stepped into the ring. They circled each other, their eyes hungrily absorbing each other's styles and moves.

  Shea didn't need the first move. She attacked, but when he tried to step away to dodge her blow as he did with Caen, her foot is waiting for him, and he tripped over her leg, falling to the ground.

  The crew laughed, and they probably thought it was over, but Shea was just getting started.

  She stepped away, laughing as Beck quickly righted himself and stood to position his feet.

  "Nice," he stated, rolling his shoulders.

  She returned his mocking bow from before with a teasing smirk. They stalked each other. Shea stepped forward with a swing, and he parried each blow with quick precision. She allowed him to counter, and they continued the flirtatious turn of the ring until they were back where they started.

  Beck was getting antsy. He stepped forward too quickly and found themselves locked in a battle of strength, their faces pressed close, and their blades interlocked, leaving the two of them mere inches apart. Beck smiled as he pushed his sword against her strength, and his eyes roamed her features sending a shiver down her spine.

  In an instant, her strategy was replaced with conversations that were had under the first warm light of each morning since the start of the voyage, and it overwhelmed her thoughts. She was too close, much too close to him, and she could barely think. She quickly disengaged and sideswiped his feet under him.

  Beck fell back, and Shea moved to dance out of the way but arms wrapped around her waist as his discarded blade clattered onto the ground, and she fell with him.

  Shea landed on top of Beck, and dropped her blade, to avoid impaling him or landing on it herself.

  Beck huffed as her weight crashed into him. Her hair blocked their faces from the rest of the crew as it dropped down around his head like a halo.

  She stared into his eyes, and she thought she could feel his hand moving up to brush her face, but a cough from behind her captured her attention. Shea sat up quickly, straddling Beck, and reached out for her sword that luckily fell nearby. She placed it at his neck.

  The crew was silent as the two them breathed heavily against each other.

  "Mercy," Beck whispered with a smirk.

  But it was Shea who felt like the loser of this round. She was still straddling him when Caen cleared his throat and said, "He surrenders, Captain."

  She looked back, meeting Caen's gaze and chuckled awkwardly. She got off of Beck and extended her hand down to him to help him up.

  He stared briefly at her hand before taking it, and when he finally grasped her forearm, she felt the shiver return and the need to pull him closer.

  Except she didn't. Because she can't.

  As soon as they were up, she dropped his hand and clapped him on the back.

  The crew relaxed at the display of comradery, and Caen claimed her as Champion for the evening.

  But even though she didn't look back at him, she knew Beck's eyes were on her as she walked away, retiring for the night. And he would be there waiting in the morning when she returned to the deck.

  She flexed the hand that held his and suppressed the idea that it was tingling from his touch.

  Shea breaks the memory from the night before, hoping she hasn’t been lost in thought for too long and otherwise staring at Beck.

  “Me too,” she hums, running a hand through her hair.

  She wraps her arms around herself and the two of them are quiet until Beck speaks again.

  “What was he like?”

  “Who?” Shea inquires.

  “Paetre, your father. You know almost everything about mine; what was Paetre like?”

  Shea raises a brow, but a small smile quirks her lips and she stumbles over to the rail, leaning beside Beck, their shoulders almost touching.

  “He was incredible. Best pirate I’ve ever seen. Great fighter too, impossibly fast and skilled. He could take a man three times his size because their brawn was never a match for his wit. He was thirty-eight when he died. He seemed so old to me, but when he joined the Duchess’s crew, he was eighteen, worked his way to quartermaster at twenty-four, and became captain at twenty-five. I was eight when he found me, and he died when I was twenty-one. I really only had thirteen years with him, and I’d give anything for more time. He was the best father a girl could have, despite his mistakes and rough edges.”

  “I can understand wanting more time, I was sixteen when Lycons killed my mom. Now my dad, well he wasn’t thirty-eight, and he would hate me admitting that, but it wasn’t his time. There was so much more for him to do.”

  “I felt the same when Paetre died, even when the mutiny happened, I didn’t even think it was a possibility. How could something so stupid take him away?”

  “We hadn’t had any attacks for a couple months you know, and my mom was this strong leader. She wanted to make sure the outlying villages on the front lines against Lycos were getting enough food. They caught her in a southern fishing village and tortured her to get to my father. When she died, Ceto sent us a message: the bravest among you has died, all that’s left are the cowards. I wanted to kill her with every part of my being,” Beck confides, his hands tightening on the rail behind them.

  “I know the feeling,” Shea humorlessly chuckles.

  “That’s right. You stole the Pearl of Lycos.” Beck bumps his shoulder into her with admiration.

  “Paetre’s final score, it was the one job he’d chased for years. I never knew why, he didn’t say, but I finished it for him. Took her down a peg. You know, with my eye healed, I thought maybe…”

  Shea trails off, feeling a sense of worry wash over her, and she places a hand over her brand.

  “You thought what?”

  “Nothing, it’s stupid.”

  “Tell me, you can trust me,” Beck consoles, turning so they face each other.

  Shea looks up into his dark brown eyes and feels her nerves fade to calm. She feels safe, like she did with Paetre, like she does with Jo.

  She sighs, breaking the eye contact, and brings her hands up to the strings of her blouse. She undoes the f
astening and pulls the shirt down, so the top of her bandage shows.

  Beck doesn’t say a word, waiting for her to explain.

  She pulls the bandage down just enough and hears him gasp when he sees it.

  The brand is still there, all of her other scars and wounds have faded, but whoever charmed the scar was good. Even her wild magic hadn’t been able to break the seal, leaving the ugly crescent moon with Scylla’s tearful face and the snakes from her hair slithering around the half circle.

  “How is it still there? What is it?”

  “Ceto’s personal seal. I offended her when I was young, embarrassed her. She caught me when I was around Aster’s age and paid me back for my insult. Chained me to a table and let her court torturer carve her personal symbol over my heart so I’d always know who I belong to.”

  Shea lets the material fall back into place. She turns away, looking out over the dark ocean, the stars reflected in the watery surface.

  “Someone really needs to kill that woman,” Beck growls.

  “If only.” Shea sighs. “Anyway, the carver enchanted the brand. I’ve tried using my magic to get rid of it but no such luck.”

  “You could always ask Poseidon for help,” Beck suggests, but Shea shakes her head.