Of Sea and Song

by Chanda Hahn

  I glared at the boot. Brennon seemed to enjoy my attempts.

  “Maybe if you helped instead of being dead weight,” I snapped, losing my patience.

  He cocked his head. “Are you saying I’m not helping?” He leaned back on his elbows, and the muscles in his chest flexed.

  My mouth went dry.

  Oh stars. This is too much.

  “How about you point your toes,” I said in desperation.

  He did. The boot slid off, and I went flying backward, landing on my backside. I cried out as it jostled my injured wrist.

  Brennon saw the way I cradled my arm. His eagle eyes locked on the swelling. “What happened?” His voice was a low growl.

  “I injured it earlier.”

  “How?” he demanded. “Did someone harm you?”

  My eyes dropped to my feet. “I fell out of the hammock.”

  Brennon’s laugh was deep, from the chest, and his blond head fell back and took full enjoyment at my predicament. “No worries, you’ll get your sea legs soon enough. Here.” He finished taking off his other boot, tossing it to the floor, and went to the one trunk I hadn’t explored earlier. He pulled out a roll of bandages and motioned for me to take a seat at the table.

  Perplexed and a little curious, I watched as he inspected my wrist, lifting it one way and then the next.

  “Does this hurt?”

  “No.”

  “How about now?” He moved it a few inches, and I inhaled through my teeth.

  The sound I made drew his attention to my face. His thumb rested on the underside of my wrist, and his gaze rested on my parted lips.

  My heart raced, and I knew he could probably feel it pulse beneath his fingers.

  I faked a cough and pulled my hand away. The corner of his mouth curled up as he held back his grin. He took a roll of cotton and carefully bandaged my wrist. Even though his hands were large, his touch was gentle, and I had to focus on a knot in the wood grain on the wall so as not to stare into his mesmerizing sea-blue eyes that kept flickering to me every few seconds.

  “There,” he said proudly and waited. My wrist was expertly bandaged with enough support and give that I could still use it.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. “Is that all you need help with tonight?” I asked and stood to escape out the door. My panic must have been evident on my face, because he stopped me.

  “Uh, Mer—rill, is it?”

  “Yes?”

  “Isn’t there something you need to tell me?” he asked softly.

  “Uh… nope.” I said and looked about warily.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “You’re dismissed.”

  I bowed and left as quickly as I came.

  Chapter Eight

  The following days at sea followed a particular rhythm. I would wake up before dawn, get dressed, and head to the galley to prepare biscuits and dried meat and hand out the daily rations with Howland. Then I’d run a tray of more luxurious food to the captain and then return to the galley. By day two, I removed my wrist bandage and was almost back to full use.

  Ever since that first day, when I made a fool of myself removing Brennon’s boots, he never asked me to attend him while he dressed. And he was always fully clothed when I entered. He ignored me when I brought his food, and I waited in a corner until he finished, and I returned later to tidy his room. I spent the rest of my daylight hours in the humid galley, sweating the days away. It was on the seventh day, when I brought Brennon his dinner, that he wrinkled his nose.

  “Boy, you stink,” he snapped.

  I turned my head and slyly sniffed my clothes. They were ripe.

  Most of the crew used seawater to rinse and wash their bodies and clothes. I had found very little alone time to do so for fear of revealing my feminine features. And whenever it washed off, I would apply more dirt to my face. I didn’t think I smelled any worse than the other crew members. In fact, I couldn’t walk past Thorn without gagging. But I was the only one who came close to the captain in a small, confined space. Maybe he just had a sensitive nose.

  I didn’t answer. I learned that the best way to protect my identity was to pretend I was mute. I bobbed my head.

  “Tell Crowley to bring in my bathing tub and have the men fill it with hot water.”

  I was more than happy to oblige, running out to the deck and calling up to the crow’s nest where he was on lookout. Crowley was one of the nicer crewmen, and I found him to be jolly and good-natured. He promised to get right on it for the captain.

  In a candle mark, they had the large metal tub brought into the captain’s quarters and filled with warm water from buckets brought up from the galley. They left, and I was alone in the room with the captain. I stared at the steam rising from the tub, and I desperately wished to be the one soaking in it.

  “Strip,” Brennon commanded.

  “What? No!” I backpedaled away from the steaming water-filled tub.

  Brennon shook his head and pointed. “Boy, your stench offends me greatly.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I argued.

  “I’m your commanding officer, and I say it’s bad. You haven’t taken off this hat in a week.” He made a grab for my hat, and I jumped away, pulling it lower over my ears.

  “I’ve been washing to the best of my ability.” I moved to the other side of the room, putting the enormous table between us.

  Brennon was having none of it. In three long strides, he had my arm in his hand and he was dragging me toward the tub. “You’ve gone nose blind. You can’t even tell how much you stink. If you don’t get in, I will strip you and throw you in myself.”

  “No!” I cried out and fell to the floor, grasping my poor vest close to me. “I promise to do better. I swear.”

  Brennon with his massive strength picked me up and tossed me into the tub. A glorious wave of water splashed over the rim and ran across his floor. Suds and bubbles soaked his boots and ran toward the bed.

  I gasped as the water rushed over my head. I sputtered, flailed, and tried to sit up, my clothes clinging to my curvy body. I pulled my knees close and wrapped my arms around them, locking myself into this position to cover my chest. I wanted to scream at the captain, but the room was empty. The door latched with a click as it closed.

  “I will be back in two candle marks,” he yelled through the door.

  I sat in the warm bath and didn’t move, waiting for the door to swing open and the captain to come barging back in, but he didn’t. I spurred into action, trying to use as little time as I could. I took off my boots and dropped them over the side of the tub and took my pants and vest off, leaving on my long overshirt.

  The captain had left me a bar of soap, and I reached out to the table and grabbed it. I tossed my hat on the ground and dunked my head under the water, running my fingers through my locks. Then I worked the soap into a lather. I used it on my hair and then quickly on my body.

  In record time, I was out of the tub and using the water to wash my socks and clothes, doing my best to wring them out. I took my clothes, headed to the window, and hung them out to dry in the ocean air.

  The breeze dried my hair and shirt. As the bindings around my chest dried, they constricted, and I wished that I dared to take them off. But I didn’t have any fresh ones to change into with me.

  When I figured that my allotted time was drawing near. I begrudgingly wrapped my hair back up and stuck the slightly damp hat back on. My partially dried clothes clung to my curves.

  Using the towel, I wiped up the pool of water that gathered, and then grabbed my boots and socks. I snuck out of the captain’s quarters, and instead of heading across the deck in front of all the men to take the steps down to the crew’s quarters, I headed to the bow of the ship. Crowley was at the helm, and I assumed then that Brennon was in the navigation room, a place he spent many hours poring over maps.

  Among the ropes and storage at the bow, I found a tied-down crate and crawled on top. I turned my boots over and let the rest of my clothes and me dry
out in the quickly fading sun.

  The wind ripped at my shirt and threatened to pull at my hat, but I just smiled in challenge and laid out. I now understood why my cat, Hack, liked to lie in the sun on the ground. There was something very calming about it. A shadow passed over my face, and I frowned.

  “You look like a nixie that got into a pot of blood.”

  I glanced up to stare into the green-gold pools that were Vasili’s eyes. He was leaning over me. His long hair hung loose past his shoulders. I originally thought it was black, but it had hints of green like seaweed. Today, he wore black pants and a deep-emerald-green shirt. He looked daunting.

  “If you mean am I happy? For the moment, yes.”

  “Are you saying you’re normally not happy?”

  “Depends on the situation, I guess.” I sat up and took in Vasili.

  His skin was almost a translucent white, his veins laying a cross work of roads that lead to his heart. And even though I had seen him sitting out here day after day, he didn’t show a sign of a tan or even a freckle.

  “Are you really from the Undersea?” I asked and then quickly covered my mouth.

  His smile was sly. “Oh, yes.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Beautiful. Your sea is miniscule compared to mine. The colors are pale, where ours are vibrant and bold. Our gardens are mazes of seaweed, and our whirlpools can transport you to other worlds. Our palace is made of crystalline shells and lava.”

  As he described the wonder of the Undersea, I could feel my heart beating faster and faster, as if crying out and longing to see it.

  “And our sea sings,” he taunted.

  “No,” I said in awe.

  Vasili grinned; that’s when I saw his canines were a little pointier than a normal human’s. As if he was part predator of the deep that prayed on those who came too close. “Yes, it is said that only those born of the Undersea can hear her song.” The sun disappeared behind the horizon, and the air grew cooler. Vasili’s features seemed engaging. He sat next to me on the crate, his thigh brushing against mine.

  “Have you heard it?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “What’s it sound like?”

  “Magic,” Vasili answered. He leaned in close and whispered, “To hear the sea sing is an honor.”

  I took my boots, slipped them on, and laced them back up. The icy air was biting at my still drying clothes, and the chill was working its way back through my bones.

  “I wish I could hear it.”

  “If you hear the song of the sea, you’ll never want for anything else in the world.”

  “That sounds like a tale told to lure children into an unsuspecting trap,” I teased.

  His face was serious, and he crooked his head toward me. “Is it working?”

  “Maybe.” I stared off the bow as our ship cut through the water and felt my heart break at my own personal loss. “Do you miss it?”

  “I’m not welcome.” His voice turned hard.

  “Why?”

  “Because I failed in my duty as captain of the guard.” Vasili stood up and stretched, his long arms lifting over his head, showing off his strong shoulders.

  “You mean you guard the treasure of the Undersea?”

  “No, I used to guard the treasure. The treasure is no more.”

  “No!” I gasped. “What happened?”

  Vasili’s eyes dropped in shame. “Years ago, an evil man found the hidden way into the Undersea. Bent on destruction, he destroyed everything in his path as he strived to take the treasure for himself. A perilous battle ensued between the sorcerer’s daemon-possessed army and the guards, resulting in the loss of many lives including King Septimus. The treasure disappeared, and since then, the sea has been silent, and our world has slowly been dying.” Vasili balled his hands into fists, the knuckles white with anger.

  “Can you search for it? The treasure?”

  “We’ve tried. For years, we’ve searched the seas, looking for the lost treasure, but it’s gone. Destroyed by the sorcerer, no doubt. No, our only hope to save the dying Undersea is to strengthen the bond between the sky and sea and hope it is enough.” He had retreated into a bleak place. I could see the anger hidden within the set of his jaw.

  “How do you do that?”

  “Well, that involves the captain, and he has to—”

  A clearing of a throat startled Vasili. I swung my head around to see Brennon and saw the slight shake of his head in warning to his first mate. Then he glanced down and noticed how close we were sitting. Brennon’s face darkened, his eyes glittering dangerously, his hand reaching for his knife on his belt.

  What was the captain going to do, stab Vasili because we were sitting next to each other? Or maybe it was a threat because of our conversation topic.

  Vasili just grinned and leaned even closer to whisper into my ear, his eyes never straying from the captain. “Your master calls.”

  And those words had the desired effect. They spurred my anger at my own circumstances. Going from being a powerful sorceress to a fake cabin boy—I mean slave—to a man I despised.

  I slid off the crate, marched over to Brennon, and saluted him with as much hate as I could muster.

  Brennon ignored me, as he was in a silent battle with Vasili. The two men glared at each other, and I heard Brennon’s knuckles crack from his own animosity.

  Vasili smirked and rolled his shoulders, focusing his attention back on the sea.

  “Follow me,” Brennon ordered. His steps were hurried, and I had to take two for every one of his. He stormed into his quarters. The tub of water was gone, along with the wet towels.

  He turned to stare at my face. His eyes widened, and I thought he held his breath. I glanced over my shoulder to look into the mirror, and I realized my error. I had forgotten to put dirt back on my face. My skin practically glowed, long, dark lashes accentuated my eyes that were as bright as emeralds, and a soft blush adorned my cheeks. I looked extremely feminine.

  “You will no longer sleep with the crew.” Brennon coughed. He marched over to the table and rifled through some papers, giving me his back.

  “Where will I sleep then?” I asked fearfully. My heart raced, and I stared at the enormous bed big enough for three people.

  “There,” he said nonchalantly and pointed to a bedroll tucked in the far corner of the room.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Why is this necessary?” I asked, feeling heat crawl to my cheeks.

  “Because you’ll be safe here.” He turned and leaned against the table. A lock of golden hair fell across his forehead.

  At the moment, being near him at night in the dark was the farthest from safe I could be. Who would keep me safe from him?

  I stuck my chin out. “And why wouldn’t I be safe with the men?”

  His eyebrow rose and he sighed. “Do you really want to play this game with me?”

  “What game?” I choked. It had been a week since we set sail, and he had yet to act like he recognized me. In fact, he was cold and mostly avoided me.

  “The game where we’re the only two players,” he challenged and glanced at my hat. I took every ounce of strength to not check to see if the hat moved, revealing the color of my hair. It was still pulled low over my ears. I felt very confident in my disguise.

  Brennon rubbed his hand along his jaw in thought. His eyes gleamed in mirth. “All right. We can play this game a little longer. Although, I will warn you. The game you play is very dangerous.” He moved closer to me and grasped my forearms.

  “Are you saying you will hurt me?” I asked.

  “No, but you play with fire that can burn my whole ship down around me, and you will get hurt.” Brennon grasped my chin between his fingers. Terrified, I didn’t move. “And I never play games unless I can win.”

  I sucked in my breath, feeling a heat smolder in my stomach. His fingers burned where they touched my chin, half an inch below my parted lips. My eyes strayed to his lips and wish
ed to know what they tasted like.

  Steeling my resolve, I pulled away from his grasp and glared up at him, remembering he was the one who was so rude in the transport. He was my captain and nothing further. Ever.

  “And I never lose,” I challenged.

  “Then we will see who gets the prize in the end.”

  I stepped back and went to stand by the door, waiting to be dismissed.

  “I’m your captain, and I gave you an order.” Brennon pointed to the bedroll in the corner.

  “I would rather not,” I said stiffly.

  He pinched his lips into a hard line. “You don’t have a choice. It is common for cabin boys to sleep near the captain in case I have need in the middle of the night.”

  The way he enunciated boys wasn’t lost on me. And when he said need, I couldn’t help but imagine what that need may be. Am I blushing? Thank the stars the sun had just set and there was only one lantern lit. Plus, I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wasn’t just testing me. Playing the game to see if I would cry foul or unfair.

  I chewed on my lips and debated. Was it worse to sleep in a cabin full of fifty men in one room or with one person?

  “Or are you ready to give up?” The corner of Brennon’s lip turned up.

  My frown deepened. “Fine,” I huffed, stomped over to the bed, and unrolled it. It was filled with downy feathers and only had a slight bend to it after I rolled it out flat. I laid on it and glared at him across the room, even making a show of flopping around like a flounder trying to get comfortable.

  The bedroll wasn’t so bad. It relieved me to not be in the same sleeping space as Thorn and Fang, but I wasn’t about to admit it to Brennon.

  Brennon’s crossed his hands and lifted his shirt over his head, exposing his chest. I couldn’t help but stare at the muscles that ran up his stomach and the breadth of his square shoulders. My eyes drank him in, this time unashamedly, as they traveled upward, and I met his amused blue eyes. The corner of his mouth ticked upward.

  I made a slight cry of distress and rolled over to face the wall. Now surely my face was on fire as he caught me ogling his chest. Stupid! I cradled my head on my arm, curled up in a ball, and waited for him to finish undressing.