At Thomas’s words the captain bent over gasping for air between his chuckles. He finally stood and wiped a tear from his eye. “Thank you for providing us some entertainment.” His amused expression faded. He clucked his tongue and shook his head as he stepped back and dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “Well, we’ve no choice, then. Throw her overboard.”
Their hands reached toward me and I scuttled back a step, only to be grabbed from behind.
“Don't touch me!” I screamed, my haggard voice ringing with authority. They couldn’t throw me into the sea. Swimming to the shore was not impossible, but I didn’t have the medallion yet; I needed to stay. My mind groped for any way to reason with these men and their wild superstitions. “I will curse you all!” I blurted out.
There was a ringing silence for a split second before the crew burst into a new wave of laughter.
“That is not an idle threat.” I straightened my stance, throwing my shoulders back. “I can curse you, and I will. There will be no wind for your sails. The waves will rise and break your ship to pieces.” I looked around, scrambling for more. I noticed the cook tossing a lime from hand to hand. “Plus, your limes will rot in their barrel and you’ll develop scurvy. Your gums will bleed and your teeth will fall from your mouths. Your bread will be filled with maggots and your fresh water will turn as salty as the sea.”
The crew started whispering among themselves. A few spat and made religious hand gestures to protect themselves from evil. I fought back a smile. Some had believed me.
“She's lying,” the captain said. “Off the side she goes.” He fanned his hand toward the ocean.
It was time for drastic measures. Ripping my arms free from my captors I lifted my hands in the air and chanted a simple spell I had once seen in the Guardians’ sacred book. Because of my lack of ability, it had been forbidden for me to even touch, let alone read in its entirety, but it had called to me. I had only read it once but the words sprang to my mind now, my mouth somehow knowing how to form the words. The language was archaic; it would sound like gibberish to the pirates. I flailed my hands for dramatic effect, glaring at a few of the men and pretending with all my might that I had the power to do this. A blast of wind from the ocean graced me with its presence and the lanterns flickered, something that definitely worked in my favor. The men surrounding me stepped back.
“She’s not just an old woman,” the yellow-toothed man hissed from his spot next to me. “She’s a witch!”
“That’s right, I’m a witch.” I continued to wave my hands about, my mind working frantically. I couldn’t fail at this. It was bigger than me.
I turned and pointed at the captain. “For you I have something special in mind. I curse you—”
I tried to think of something horrible, something that suited him, but nothing seemed bad enough.
“—for all the lives you’ve destroyed . . . ” I glared at him. “For that you will—”
“Will what?” he interrupted, his voice a deadly whisper. The crew bristled at his cold tone.
I grinned at him, still unable to think of a dire enough curse. “It is too horrible to speak until it is in spell form.”
“Let me get this straight.” He walked toward me like a hunter stalking its prey. I refused to cower and held my stance even as he drew nearer to me. “Unless we agree to keep you on the Promise, you are going to curse us with bad seas, no winds, and . . . what was it? Oh, yes. Rotten limes.” He didn't bother to suppress his smirk.
“Correct.”
“Is there any room for bargaining in your terms?”
I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. “None whatsoever.”
“Hmmm,” he said, stroking his chin. I could see his mind working. He, at least, seemed to be somewhat more intelligent than his crew, but it couldn't have been by much. After all, he was still a pirate. “What if I were to ask you to curse our lemons and spare our limes?”
I jolted with surprise at his unexpected question. “What?”
“It's just that I like limes so much better.”
“Don't patronize me.” I spun around throwing my hands in the air again, the way I had seen the Guardians do to make it rain. “I'm losing patience. Do you agree to my terms?”
The captain looked at me with outright amusement on his face. “Who are you? Where do you come from?”
“You may call me Sheridan,” I replied, choosing my middle name, and the code word that the admiral had used when he wanted to meet me for training. “And I'm not from any place that you've been, so you needn't concern yourself.”
“I'm getting tired of this.” His crew was now murmuring about my being a witch and begging him to let me stay. The captain rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you can find yourself a husband I shall consider letting you stay.”
A lump formed in my throat. “You can’t be serious. I never asked to be married. I came here to . . .” I bit my tongue hard to keep from finishing my sentence.
“To what?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious.
“It doesn’t matter. Where am I supposed to find a husband? How long do I have?”
The captain leaned back against the rigging and stretched out his arms to the men on deck. “You have two minutes to pick any member of my crew.” He paused, then the corner of his mouth pulled into a grin. “Except me, of course.”
“Who would want you?” I snapped. “I can’t just pick a husband. Marriage is sacred. One must know the person, know he will take his vows seriously…”
He pushed away from the railing. “Isn’t saving you from being tossed overboard serious enough? What more could you ask for in a husband?”
Of course he would mock something so important. After all, it was his selfishness that had brought my life to ruin.
“You may pick your husband yourself or I will let them bid on you.”
“Bid on me? You wouldn’t dare!”
The captain folded his arms and stared at me. “This is my ship. I would dare. Your options are as follows.” He held up his first finger. “You go overboard.” He added fingers as he continued. “You pick a husband. Or they bid on you, like a horse.” He wasn't going to budge.
“If you force me to it, I will curse you.” My temper boiled over and I raised my hands to the sky, chanting again, this time in the language they knew. “Wind in the sky, water in the sea...” I tossed my head back as the wind stirred around us. I was lucky that the wind was active today. It made my threats more impressive.
“Tell me Sheridan, do you think you can curse me before I run you through with my sword?” The captain stared at me, his hand moving to the hilt at his waist.
A string of words sprung from my lips as he drew his weapon. I had no idea what the words meant, but I finished just as the tip of his sword reached my throat. I stepped back but the sword didn’t follow. The captain struggled, his muscles straining with the effort, and his face growing flush, but he could move the blade no further. It stopped, almost like magic.
Had I just done magic? Magic that didn’t include my blood. My heart soared like a caged bird released into the sky. I fought the urge to clap my hands and settled for a broad smile.
The bulging vein on his forehead beat in time with the frantic beat of my heart. The words, I now remembered, had come from the book I had secretly read. I still didn’t understand them but I was grateful for them, for keeping me safe.
With an angry shout he dropped his sword. Grabbing a pistol from the hand of the closest crewman he aimed and fired straight at me. The entire crew jumped at the sound of the explosion that followed, but in the next second their faces turned to astonishment as the gun exploded in the captain's hand and I stood there, unharmed. The captain cursed and dropped the pistol, clutching his burned hand and swearing in a manner that made even some of the hardest-looking men of the crew startle in surprise.
I forced myself to breathe and pretend the sight of the gun hadn’t stolen the air from my lungs. “Is there anything else you'd like to try?” I
taunted with a raise of my eyebrow.
The captain didn't need to speak; his scowl said volumes.
“I’ll marry her, Cap’n!” yelled a greasy-haired pirate.
“I’ll take her,” said another as he wiped tobacco juice off his mouth with his sleeve. “She may be old, but she can still warm a bed.”
I shuddered and fought down the bile that rose in my throat. Before I could voice my disgust the crowd of men parted and a young man stepped forward.
“No, I will marry her,” he said in a commanding voice, stepping between the captain and me. He was a tall man in his mid-twenties, but gaunt and pale with dark circles under his hazel eyes. One side of his face was marred by a web of ridged, ropey scars. I had seen the results of burns before, but rarely so severe. His clothes were clean, though simple. His light brown hair, tied at the base of his neck, hung neatly down his back. Even his nails were trimmed and spotless. His posture, the authority in his voice, even the way he held his chin a smidge higher than the others, all proclaimed him a leader of men. He didn’t need a uniform to radiate inner strength and leadership.
The captain stopped scowling long enough to roll his eyes heavenward. “Not you, William,” he said. “You’ve already had enough tragedy in your life.”
“She doesn’t deserve to be thrown overboard, Captain, or handed off as chattel to the crew, no matter what our mission.”
William put his hand on the captain’s shoulder, and the captain stared back at him incredulously. “Does she amuse you, Willie, or have you just not had any—”
“Clayton!” William cut him off. “I am doing this because it is the right thing to do. I can handle her.”
The interaction confused me. Who was this man? What position did he have that would allow him to address the captain by his first name? Even stranger, why was the captain acting as if William outranked him?
“Are you sure, William?” He almost seemed to be pleading with William to say no.
“I’m second in command. If you won't do it, then the task must be mine.”
“I hardly think that falls into your appointed duties,” the captain said dryly.
William ignored him and bowed to me, taking my hand in his. I flinched as our hands touched.
“My lady Sheridan, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Um . . . I . . . I . . .” I pulled my hand away and wiped it against my trousers.
He scrubbed the rejected hand across his face, studying his shoes. He seemed to be working over something in his head. After a deep breath, his eyes widened, his muscles relaxed, and he nodded to himself, straightening.
William seemed nice, too good to be true, but so had James. I studied William and I couldn’t figure out what he was getting out of this. This had to benefit him in some way, didn’t it? Could I accept that risk?
“Curse or no curse, you are bad luck to have aboard unwed,” the captain said. “You take William up on his insane offer, you go overboard or you’ll be auctioned off.”
“It is either me or one of them,” William said softly, cocking his head toward the crew.
I looked back at the hardened men and their arrogant captain. Compared to them, this man was a miracle. If I had to marry someone—and the captain would never let me stay on board otherwise—he was the best man I could have chosen.
“Yes,” I heard myself answer. My voice sounded small and scared even to my own ears.
“Very well,” William said. His body seemed tense, but his eyes showed a gentle kindness, even pity.
The crew started laughing, and in a split second William spun to face the crew, his hazel eyes frosting over. His hand went to the pistol strapped to his waist. “Something funny?” he asked.
The crew stopped laughing and the man standing closest to William spoke for the group. “No sir,” he answered somberly, his lie obviously borrowing sincerity from the pistol.
“That's what I thought.” William’s warning glare scanned the crowd. When he seemed assured his message had gotten through, he gestured toward the captain. “Proceed.”
The captain simply stared at William, his eyes darting between us, his mouth hanging open. I shared his shock and confusion. What force compelled William to do this? What could possibly be his motivation? He didn’t look any happier about this arrangement than I did. So why volunteer? Perhaps I had found the one kind man among this hardened band of pirates. I couldn’t help but wonder what this jewel of a man was doing in such a motley group. What was his story? Did he have a sister in jeopardy too?
“Very well. It’s your life, I guess.” The captain frowned and then cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved,” he started. Threat or no threat, muffled laughter rippled through the crew.
I swallowed, trying to process the horror of this situation. I squeezed my eyes so tightly they hurt, desperately hoping when I reopened them that this would be a dream. The captain asked if there were any objections. Some of the crew shouted sympathy to William while others shouted mock claims of jealousy, but none actually objected. The captain sighed loudly and sent another pleading look towards his second mate.
“Are you sure, William?” he asked again. “It’s not too late.”
“Just finish it,” William said.
The captain muttered furiously under his breath, and from the tone I was grateful I couldn’t distinguish the words. The cadence and timber of his voice were enough for me to get the rough idea. But he finished the ceremony without stopping.
“I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. William Fredricks,” he said. “My condolences to the groom.”
The crew applauded loudly, more for the captain’s jest than the wedding. William gave my hand a gentle squeeze, which I found strangely comforting, before he released it and stepped away from me. My husband never once glanced my way during the ceremony. I knew because my eyes stayed on him the whole time.
And there, in the course of a few minutes, with the sound of the sea playing the part of an orchestra, I found myself married to a pirate.
Chapter 12
Either the pirates had no rings among their plundered treasure or they were unwilling to part with them for my sake. Instead of a beautiful gem-encrusted ring, my finger was fit with a much humbler circlet. William's finger bore a matching band, both having been cut from a length of discarded rope. My ring seemed a perfect symbol of my new life: coarse, rough, and misused. I stroked its frayed edges, knowing no other ring would have suited me even half as well. It actually felt more right than August’s elaborate one ever had.
The captain turned his gaze upon me and spoke with an edge to his voice.
“All right witch, you're married now. And since you’re so keen on the idea, I’ll give you another one. It's time for you to marry the Promise.”
“Marry the ship?” I repeated, sure I’d heard him wrong.
“All members of the crew go through it,” William affirmed.
“Does this bother you?” the captain asked with a grin. “Because if it does, let me remind you that you were the one who stowed away and threatened us. It's not our fault if your plan requires more entanglements than you thought.”
The captain motioned for the cook and whispered in his ear. The cook smiled and then faded behind the rest of the men.
William ran his fingers through his hair. “Let's just carry on.”
“So how exactly does one marry a ship?” I asked. “It's an object.”
“Tell her, William,” the captain said.
“You swear your fidelity to our ship, the captain and the crew, which will make you able to learn our secrets and unable to reveal them or enact any other form of mutiny,” he explained. “You will be expected to follow the same rules and be subject to the same punishments as any man on board. An understandable precaution on our part.”
I didn’t like the thought of swearing any oaths to them, but I couldn’t imagine any sort of ceremony creating that kind of devotion to these pirates. Not even magic could do that unless . . . I
gulped. “Are you speaking of a blood oath?”
The captain merely lifted his voice. “Someone bring me the knife.”
I felt myself grow pale. Was I willing to tamper with magic again, to risk losing myself to these pirates? The man who had ruined my life and set me on the course that endangered my sister’s life was once again demanding I make a terrible choice. Two impossible circumstances, same horrible man. My resolve wavered, but then the image of my dear sister flashed in my mind and I knew the answer. This was just another challenge in the quest to save Pearl’s life.
“Afraid of blood?” the captain taunted.
A laugh bubbled from my throat. “No.”
He held up the knife someone had brought him. “Afraid I might cut too deep?”
“Afraid I might curse you?”
The corners of his mouth quivered. “So we understand each other?”
I took a deep breath, knowing Pearl was worth the risk. I thrust out my hand. “Go ahead with your ceremony.”
The captain performed the ritual himself. Gripping the knife by its mother of pearl handle he sliced my palm, then closed my hand into a fist. His touch pained me worse than the cut. Warm blood pooled inside my palm. He lifted a vial filled with a rusty colored liquid, which I guessed to be the collective contents of the other blood oaths he had performed.
After he undid the stopper, a rancid, metallic smell filled my nose. I gagged at the sour stench but the captain simply tipped my hand so a few drops of my blood fell into the liquid.
The captain nodded at William who began chanting over it in the archaic language of magic. William took the vial and swirled it before tipping it over to let a few drops fall onto the deck of the ship. I watched as the blood seeped into the arid cracks and disappeared, tying me to the ship’s secrets and its fate.
I expected the ritual to be over, but to my surprise the captain made a similar cut along his own hand, tracing a faded silver scar across his palm, before grabbing my hand and smashing it against his own, mingling our blood.
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