The Veiled Descendants

by Sophia Menesini

  Shea laughs as the memory surfaces. She thinks about the old lullaby and hums a bit of the tune. She’s sure the rum is probably encouraging her as she begins to sing a bit of the beginning.

  Beware the forest.

  The darkening leaves,

  The eyes that watch from the trees.

  Shea trails off, and the crew around them hollers and cheers at the sound of her voice. She startles, forgetting that most of the crew is there.

  Caen whistles in encouragement, and Poseidon laughs at his antics.

  Shea blushes deeply, but everyone is clapping for her to continue the song.

  “You never told me you could sing,” Jo exclaims.

  Shea’s ears are a bright red.

  She groans, wiping a hand down her face. “I don’t advertise it.”

  Beck, the traitor, seems to have picked up enough of the melody and begins to play it on the pan flute.

  Triton taps a soft beat in time to the song and she’s mildly impressed until she remembers he’s the father of sirens—of course he’d have perfect rhythm.

  “Give it a go.” Triton grins.

  Somehow, she suspects he knew this was going happen.

  Shea grabs her mug of rum and downs a bit of it before clearing her throat and catching the tune to begin the next verse of the song.

  Beware the woodlands,

  The winding trails,

  The never-ending roads,

  Forgotten tales.

  Forget the babbling brooks,

  And weeping trees

  a false calm giving you ease.

  ​Shea scans the crew, and she can’t help but smile as they’re sucked into the story.

  She remembers staring at Dari in a similar way as she sang about the dangers of the wood. She’d imagine that it was fae who took her away from the Eastlands, and Paetre saved her from them.

  She continues to sing along as the melody builds.

  Beware the magic,

  The howling winds

  Full of whispers and mischievous grins.

  Into the woods,

  Beyond the edge,

  Their fae rings hide beneath the forest bed.

  ​She catches Aster’s eyes and remembers those nights where she’d threatened to hang him over the bow if he told anyone about her voice.

  She’d lay in bed next to him and sing old shanty songs and lullabies she’d learned from free and enslaved elves alike over the years, just to get him to laugh or smile.

  Her favorite part of the song comes next, but this time she has backup.

  Triton sings along with her, and she loves how their voices sound together.

  Jo claps, loving every minute of this, and it causes Shea to laugh a little, fumbling her voice.

  Beware the horn

  The hunt’s begun,

  The horses’ ride,

  The sound like drums.

  They seek dangerous game

  They love the chase.

  They’ll hunt you down

  To your disgrace.

  Others who know the song begin to chime in for the last verse and Shea realizes that this…this is Phoebus and Dari’s memorial.

  This song is for them, and the crew they lost, taken by fae, by Merrow, too soon.

  But someday they’ll be together again.

  Shea’s going to bring her people out of the forest and back into the sun. And Perses is going to have to kill her if he wants to stop her.

  So, beware the forest,

  sweet little one,

  Beware the forest,

  And if you must, run.

  Break away from the branches

  And back to the sun.

  Back into the light

  Past the woodland’s sight.

  And never look back

  From whence you’ve come.

  Beware the forest, dear little one.

  The crew cheers and bellows as they all finish the song.

  Some start to cry, but there’s a smile on every face.

  Shea reaches her hand down to Jo and to Beck. She squeezes their hands in hers. Her eyes dance from person to person.

  She smiles fondly as James kisses Aster sweetly.

  And she even notes how close Caen and Poseidon are sitting as they watch her fondly.

  She breaks her handhold with Beck and Jo. She reaches down, grabbing her mug, and lifts it to the sky.

  This one’s for you guys. Phoebus, Dari, Tero, Paetre. I’m not giving up hope. I’m going to make you all proud, Shea thinks as she stares up into the beautiful and distant starlight.

  She lowers the glass, takes a sip, and her eyes harden as she looks back up at the stars.

  And I’m going to kill Perses, gods help me, I promise you.

  And she decides to take the shooting star that passes over ahead as encouragement.

  Chapter 38: Don’t Tell

  Jo

  Jo laughs as another crew member takes Nol’s hangover remedy gently from her fingers. They’re lucky it has a nausea-reducing effect, as Jo has to grab onto one of the hanging cots to catch her balance as the Duchess hits a hard wave.

  Last night had ended in too much drink for everyone, and by the time the sky was beginning to lighten, soldiers and crew had to drag their fellows to their beds to sleep off the rum until the morn.

  Shea’s voice was mesmerizing.

  Jo smiles as she recalls last night, and the way her wife’s voice had enchanted the old song like she was reciting a spell or incantation. It had been a somber night for all.

  Jo could still barely ponder the fact that so many of her soldiers had been lost on Orena, all because she had to have her wedding.

  She shakes her head; she doesn’t want to feel guilty for marrying the woman she loves.

  She steps around the hammocks and heads for the doors, leaving the crew’s quarters.

  She has a couple of vials left so she heads up to the top deck to get a better look at who’s not up yet.

  When she arrives, a few more men gratefully take a vial from her.

  Her eyes wander onto Shea’s strong form as she bends the water beneath the ship at the bow, moving the Duchess quicker than before.

  Triton and Poseidon are there with her too, and a small part of Jo hopes that Shea can keep this family even if they are immortal.

  She hands off the last remedy in her pack to an Arethusian soldier she recognizes. Lana, or Leila? Either way, Jo smiles at the soldier and exchanges gratitude for her service, and the soldier thanks Jo for the delivery of the concoction.

  When Jo woke this morning, she’d found a note on the pillow next to her head from Shea, asking that she report to Nol immediately.

  She’d gotten dressed as fast as she could, and as she was pulling on her boots, the ship lurched forward.

  Poseidon, Triton, and Shea were at it again, which meant more anti-nausea elixirs.

  When she’d arrived, Nol had greeted her with a dazzling smile. The anti-nausea vials looked different today, a brown mixture instead of the light gold from the day before. He explained that a hangover concoction would be more beneficial.

  Jo had chuckled as she realized his smile was because he wouldn’t have to deliver them all.

  Thoughts of the drunken crew filtered back into her mind from last night’s memorial—at least it had felt like a memorial—and Jo headed off with the vials to hand out to those too sick to move from the public quarters.

  As she’d stepped out of the medical office, she’d looked down the hall at the sound of a door closing, happily surprised to find Caen leaving Poseidon and Beck’s room.

  She tried not to feel discouraged when he spotted her, barely nodded in acknowledgment, and hurriedly rushed past her. He must be needed back up top, she tried to reason to herself, and had headed off to hand out the elixirs without worry.

  That had been an hour ago.

  Beck had offered Triton the bedroom to share with Poseidon after the song, and that had gone about as well as one could imagine. Tri
ton had politely declined and had headed off toward the crew’s quarters to find an empty cot to sleep.

  Jo doesn’t see Beck on the top deck surprisingly, he’s usually one of the first ones up, helping James and keeping the harpoon launchers in top shape.

  She didn’t think he drank that much, since she’d seen him drunk before; his words hadn’t been slurred when he left the deck last night, although he was a bit pale and sweaty.

  He’d excused himself, murmuring his exhaustion, and they’d let him go.

  Jo is coming down the stairs below deck when she sees Beck walking, no, limping down the hall from the storage bay toward his room and the medical quarters. She’s tempted to say something but stops when he catches himself weakly against the ship’s wall. He leans heavily against the wood, wiping his forehead across his arm, and then stands with a breathy groan before continuing.

  His coat is still on, which Jo finds surprising; he usually only wears a peasant shirt while working around the Duchess. Come to think of it, he’d been wearing that jacket since they boarded a day ago.

  Jo follows him.

  She stalks him down the halls, and watches as he avoids touching or bumping into any crew members. Finally, they reach the medical quarters, and he stops himself in front of the closed door. He takes a breath and forces his shoulders back so he’s standing straight with a pained grunt. He bites his lip hard, and Jo thinks she sees a bit of blood escape as he splits his lip in the process to hold back any sound.

  Once his back is straight, he wipes a quick hand across his brow and opens the door with a huge smile.

  She hears Nol greet him and the door closes behind them. Jo waits a few moments, deciding whether she should walk in or not, and when she finally comes to the decision to enter the quarters, the door opens. She hides behind the corner again.

  Beck edges out the door with a hand behind his back, and as she looks closer, she sees it’s gauze.

  “I’ll get it to him right away,” Beck tells Nol, holding up a vial with the hand not behind his back.

  “Very good, thank you, Beck,” Nol responds and shuts the door softly on him.

  Once the door is closed and Beck thinks he’s alone. He stumbles, bending over, his mouth open in a silent cry. He breathes heavily and then stands the best he can and limps his way to his room at the end of the hall, which is empty because Poseidon is upstairs moving the ship with Shea and Triton.

  He closes the door behind him, leaving Jo alone in the hallway.

  There’s no way she’s not intervening. She rushes to the medical bay, handing off the pack to Nol and telling him she’ll be back. Then she rushes out of the room, down to Beck’s door.

  She thinks about knocking but figures he’ll either hide or not answer so she decides to walk in.

  She opens the door quickly and nearly cries out at what she sees.

  Beck is standing in the middle of the room. The bed on the right is completely made, while the bed on the left looks like whoever slept in it wrestled around with another occupant.

  She tries not to focus on that now. She stares at Beck, who is glaring back at her with wide eyes, the gauze he stole from Nol in his mouth, and his jacket and shirt are off.

  His bare back is completely exposed to her, and starting from his left shoulder all the way down to his left hip is a large gash from what Jo presumes is a sword. His jacket and what’s left of his bloody torn shirt are sitting on the made bed.

  “Jo?” Beck tries to speak around the gauze roll in his mouth.

  Jo slams the door shut and rushes to his aid, scanning his back and trying to gauge how bad it is.

  “When?” Jo screeches. “How?”

  “It’s nothing,” Beck tells her once he’s taken the gauze out of his mouth.

  He tries to push her away, but the effort obviously hurts, and he almost falls to the ground.

  “Don’t do that again,” Jo orders.

  It seems like he might object, but he finally sighs and nods.

  “Lie down on the bed on your front, I need to examine the wound. Gods, Beck, you may have needed stitches! You could have bled out.” Jo winces as Caen’s voice from a year ago echoes through her head.

  She remembers Shea’s broken body after the duel with her father. She’ll bleed out.

  Jo helps Beck onto the bed, removing his bloody jacket and shirt and tossing it to the ground; she’ll need to get him a new top.

  “Stay, I’ll be right back,” Jo orders, but Beck jumps up.

  He cries out from the sudden movement, but he grabs her hand anyway.

  “Please,” he begs, his brown eyes wide and in pain. “Don’t tell Shea, or Nol because he’ll tell her. Please don’t tell her.”

  “Okay,” Jo soothes, if only to get him to lie back down. “Okay, I won’t. But I have to clean it; I need to grab a needle and thread just in case, and then proper bandages, not just gauze. I won’t say a word but only if you let me treat this properly; it might already be infected.”

  Beck sighs, and finally nods, allowing her to leave.

  Jo races down the hall, storming into Nol’s office. She tells him she needs to grab a few things and she can’t answer any questions.

  Nol completely trusts her and allows her to do as she wishes.

  She grabs a bowl of clean water from the medical jug, a sponge, a bit of salve concocted by Nol to help the healing process, some proper bandages, and a needle and thread just in case.

  She kisses Nol’s cheek as a thank-you and he laughs, telling her to go.

  She hurries as best she can without spilling the water, especially with the ship moving so quickly, and opens the door gently, closing it with her foot behind her. She’s relieved to find Beck lying where she left him.

  She sets her supplies down on the floor next to the low bed, and before kneeling on the ground, grabs one of the fallen pillows on the floor next to the other cot to place under her shins while she works on Beck.

  Once that’s done, she takes a good look at the wound. He’s extremely lucky it’s not infected, and that is partially because he doesn’t need stiches.

  It may have bled a lot, but it’s not as deep as it looks. It’ll leave a nasty scar though.

  She grabs the sponge and dips it into the clean water to start the cleaning process. She doesn’t say a word as she places the first dab at the top of his shoulder and decides to work her way down.

  Beck doesn’t seem eager to speak either.

  ​There are a few hisses, and a couple curses, and once she’s made it to the bottom of his shoulder blade, she decides it’s time to find out why in Hades he didn’t tell anyone.

  ​“That last encounter, with the Merrow. When Shea found you on the ground. That’s when it happened?”

  ​Jo remembers it vaguely; she had gone to help Caen, who was bleeding quite a bit from a forehead cut, while Shea went to check on Beck. The next she’d seen of him he seemed fine.

  ​“I had my back turned and it came out of nowhere, crawling up out of the water onto the old dock. Sliced my back, I barely made a sound. I was too busy turning with the sickle I’d retrieved to take its head off. I hit the ground after, and when Shea came to me, she was so tired and grief-stricken, I didn’t want to add to her pain,” Beck states, his head on his arms and turned in Jo’s directions, so their eyes meet.

  ​“You should have told someone,” Jo scolds.

  ​“I couldn’t, there was so much pain. From everyone. I didn’t want to add to it. The bleeding stopped, so I figured if I could clean it myself…”

  ​“Why didn’t Poseidon say something. He must have seen you undress for bed last night?”

  ​Beck buries his face in his arms.

  ​“I didn’t…” he mumbles, and Jo isn’t able to hear the rest.

  ​“Beck,” Jo warns.

  ​“I didn’t sleep here last night.” Beck sighs, turning to look at her.

  ​“Then where did you sleep?” Jo glares.

  ​He blushes. “The
storage room.”

  ​“What?” Jo growls, accidentally pressing a bit hard about mid-back and Beck arches away from the touch.

  ​Jo doesn’t apologize but she does alleviate the pressure.

  ​“It was no big deal, there’s a cot down there I found a few days back on some barrels. I just slept there on my front. It was fine until the ship lurched and I fell off and landed…on my back.” Beck winces thinking about it.

  ​“Well serves you right, perhaps it’ll teach you to have more sense. No, you listen to me,” Jo growls, grabbing the back of Beck’s hair and forcing him to look at her after he turns away, rolling his eyes.

  ​“You being in pain does not alleviate our pain. Do you know how I felt finding you like this? Huh? Worry, stress, pain that someone I care about, someone I just admitted to being like family, is hurt. You think you don’t matter, well you’re wrong. You matter to us; you matter to me.”

  ​Jo releases his hair once she’s done with her tirade, and he rests it back on his arms, blinking as he absorbs everything she said.

  ​“Gods, it’s like having another Shea around. You think martyrdom is cute? It’s not. My children are going to have no sense of self-preservation,” Jo mutters to herself as she finally comes to his hip, cleaning the last bit of the gash.

  ​They remain in silence as she finishes cleaning the wound—the once clean water is dark red when she places the sponge inside the bowl. She picks up the jar of salve, and takes a good amount out, starting at the top of his shoulder again.

  ​“I’m sorry,” Beck finally says, breaking the silence.

  ​Jo hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t answer.

  ​“I should have told someone. I—I didn’t know you cared that much.”

  ​Jo’s hand freezes; she stops mid-back and places the jar down. She shuffles over so that her face is in front of Beck’s and looks him in the eyes.

  ​“You are my friend. And one day, you will be the father of my children. Of course I care for you. You also mean a great deal to Shea, which makes you one of my own, and I protect my own, just like I would protect Aster, James, Caen, Nol…You’re a part of this family, and I don’t take kindly to those hurting my family, especially when it’s one of them doing it to themselves,” Jo states.