by Janeal Falor
I twist my hands within the folds of my skirt. I hear nothing else from them, but what I did hear makes me feel I should have stayed in the castle. The more I learn about humans, the more I wonder if the people trying to take my life are right. They shouldn’t be trying to kill me to accomplish their goal; they only need to let me spend some time with these horrid humans.
I don’t know if I should go or stay and discover more about the humans, but the decision is made for me as three sailors head down the gangplank. They tread their way across the dock and over to us. The first one looks like he must be the captain. A second one stands over to his side. He’s about my age, with blonde hair and mousy brown eyes. The third one stops next to the captain, right in front of me.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
My head comes to his chin. His sandy hair is cut short, and his golden eyes hold a certain warmth. Something unfamiliar stirs within my chest. My mouth goes dry as he looks me in the eye. I refocus my gaze on their older leader, but the sailor holds my attention.
“I’ve heard you have had some problems. I’m Captain Zaccheus. This is Abner, and this is Robert.” The captain points to them as he says their names. Robert is the one I’m intrigued with.
“I’m Constance. Captain Smythe attacked our island, leaving us with no food. Our boat isn’t supposed to be back for a while. We would be willing to trade labor for food.”
“Captain Smythe, you say? Was anyone injured?”
I shudder as she responds. “No. We were lucky. Our things were not so fortunate. We’ve been making do, but they burned the garden, making food harder to come by.”
“Robert, go round up a box of food for them.”
Robert heads back for the ship, and I feel a little more at ease as the captain continues. “Do you need help planting or repairing anything as well?”
“No, thank you,” Constance says. “We’re on leave, and not really used to having such idle hands. Fixing a few things up is no problem.”
“Maybe you can be of help to us, then. The storm caught us by surprise. It was a nasty one. We’re supposed to be in Amara in three days, but we’re falling behind. We need to make some repairs as quickly as possible. A few supplies, and some extra help would go a long way to assisting us reach our destination as soon as possible.”
“Of course. There’s an elf with us who would know how to help. The rest of us will do what we can as well. Maybe we could use the labor as payment for food.”
“I think that would work.” Captain Zaccheus turns to Robert as he rejoins us, and so do I. “Robert, would you be so kind as to take that food to where they want it while I finish making some arrangements? This servant girl here can show you the way.”
“Certainly.” Those golden eyes turn to me. I stare back at them in a daze. Robert says, “If that’s all right with you, miss?”
I raise my brows in confusion, then realize I’m the servant girl mentioned. I don’t know if I can ever get used to that—following someone else’s orders doesn’t sit well—but I do want to spend a little more time with Robert. See what draws me to him, and maybe get more of an insight into humans. Captain Zaccheus is more like Jocelyn than the others. I hope Robert is too, though it’s probably a fluke.
“I can go if you would like, Robert.” Abner moves as if to come with us. He is a bit taller than me, but the scowl on his face is intimidating.
“I have this, all right. If the lady doesn’t mind.”
“By all means.” I don’t mind being with him at all. That Abner character, on the other hand, makes me uncomfortable. “Follow me,” I say to Robert.
Abner sneers at me and heads back to the ship. Not a comfortable gesture, to be sure, but better than Constance’s glower as I leave. I’m going back to the castle like she wanted, so I don’t think she has reason to be displeased.
Robert and I start up the path.
“I fear I didn’t catch your name,” he says when we’re almost there.
“Adelei.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
My palms grow damp with sweat as I open the castle door. I lead him through the halls to the kitchen and point at the table. “You can leave it there.”
He puts the box on the table and turns his large frame toward me. I struggle to find something to say. Nothing comes to mind. How can nothing come to me? I turn, hoping there’s an object in the room to talk about. Instead, I stumble over a chair and fly toward the floor.
The world rushes past. Suddenly, it stops. Two hands are secure around my waist before I crash to the ground. He pulls me up, his chest brushing my back.
“Are you unharmed?” he asked.
A startling heat fills my face. “No. Yes. I mean, yes, I’m not hurt. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His hands slip off my waist.
I reluctantly pull away and pick up a piece of the broken chair I tripped over. “Captain Smythe’s handiwork. Or maybe one of his crew. I thought the others had all of them put back together. Guess I haven’t been paying enough attention.”
“Heard stories about him. Glad you were able to come through the encounter unharmed.” My heart beats faster. He holds out his hand for the broken pieces. “I could probably fix that. Doesn’t look too difficult.”
I hand the pieces to him, wishing they were small enough for our hands to touch. What’s wrong with me? I don’t know this common, human sailor. He’s kind, though. Kinder than I expected. “That would be helpful. If you don’t need to get back to your ship right away, that is,” I say.
“It’s not a problem. I’m not really skilled at the things they need fixed up. But hammering a few nails in a chair I can handle.”
“Nails?” I glance down at my fingernails, wondering what he would need those for. Though mine are worked on daily back home, I never realized they could help with fixing up a chair. Then I remember he’s talking about a tool carpenters and others sometimes use. “Right. Nails. I’m not sure we have any or where they’d be.”
He stares at me, brows crinkled. His lips turn up in a smile that makes me feel weak. “I’m sure we can locate some,” he says.
He sets the pieces on the table next to the box of food. It groans and creaks. With a snap, the legs of the table give out. Robert reaches for the box of food. It looks like his fingers have the side of it, but then it goes crashing to the floor.
Chapter
Eight
Robert looks at me, eyes wide. “I can fix that, too.”
I can’t help but laugh, and his tense face relaxes.
“Don’t worry over it,” I say. “Fits in with everything else around here.”
He leans over and puts the food box to the side. “At least it landed upright and didn’t spill much. Your food may be a bit jostled, though.”
“Food is food, even if it’s jostled.”
He grins up at me, and warmth fills me. Hovering over the mess, he shifts through the broken pieces. “Hold this for me, please.” He holds out some pieces of wood, and I take them from him.
As he works, his muscles flex beneath his shirt. Realizing I’m staring, I avert my gaze to the hearth. I cradle the scraps close to me.
“It will need a leg replaced, but the rest of it doesn’t look so bad.” He stands a few inches from me.
I’m conscious of his proximity. His warmth. His smell—a salty musky scent that lingers in a comforting way. Without looking, I know he’s watching me. I hold the scraps out toward him, and his arms brush against mine as he helps me hold the pile.
We touch. As if in a trance, I turn and look at him. Tingles run up my arms where his skin meets mine, almost like magic but more intense. The current passing between us is so powerful I can’t release the scraps to him or look away.
We lean toward one another. Closer. His breath is warm on my cheek. His eyes hold an emotion I don’t recogni
ze but feel within myself. At the same time he tilts his head down to me, I raise my head toward him.
The kitchen door opens so hard it bangs against the wall.
We spring apart, and the scraps fall back to the floor between us. The room seems dark and colder. I sneak a quick peek at Robert. His face glows, lighting the space around him. I look at the stone floor, and heat rises to my cheeks as the strange warm feeling stirs within me.
Emeline rushes into the room. “What was that? What happened, Prin—um, Adelei?”
“Your table couldn’t hold everything I put on it.” Robert runs his hand through his hair. “I can fix it, though. I think. Let me go get some tools.”
He rushes out of the room.
“Are you all right?” Emeline asks me.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I don’t feel fine. I feel different. Warm and tingly. My pulse is still racing.
“Well, then, let me see about putting something together to eat.”
She grabs the box of food, sets it on the counter, and starts looking through it.
“Sounds fantastic,” I say. “I’m going to go lie down for a while. Let me know when it’s ready or if I need to pretend to do some chores because one of the humans comes back around.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I head to my room in a bit of a daze. Part of me wants to stay in the kitchen for when Robert gets back, but part of me is frightened to. My thoughts turn to being near him. His face inches from mine. His arms against mine. I’m not sure what to think, but I like it. I cross the room and lie on my bed.
I can’t afford to like it.
I stare out the open kitchen door, at the rain drizzling on my scorched garden. Emeline, Jocelyn, and Constance are cooking behind me. Robert and another sailor fixed the table hours ago and went back to their ship. Stewart followed them down to see what he could do to help on the ship. I vacillate between wishing he had a reason to come back and hoping I don’t see him again.
I shouldn’t have looked out at the garden. Jocelyn’s bubbly chatter was lifting my spirits until I did. With a sigh, I turn my back on the ruins. I sit at the table in front of a bowl of fruit and pick up the knife lying next to it, to toy with. Everyone is so busy. I hate to interrupt them for a piece of fruit.
With my free hand, I grab a mango. I stare at it. I bring the knife to the fruit and push it in. Waving the knife, now hidden with the fruit, it reminds me of some of the council members that do nothing but bob their heads up and down. I put the fruit back in my hand and drive down the knife.
It slices into my palm. “Ow.”
Constance rushes over. “What happened?” She puts the fruit on the table and looks at my hand. “Jocelyn, run and grab some bandages. Emeline, get some clean water, please.”
The girls rush to their tasks.
“I was just trying to cut a mango to eat,” I say.
Constance tsks. Emeline sits a bowl of water and a rag on the table.
“Thank you. That is all,” Constance says.
Emeline moves back to the counter. “Yes, ma’am.”
Constance dips the rag in the water and then gently presses it to my cut. “I’d have thought with all your fencing, you would have known better than to cut something in your hand like that.”
“You do it all the time.”
“I’ve had more practice than you.” She dabs at the cut, which has stopped bleeding. “It isn’t deep. You’ll be fine if we keep it clean. Try not to move your hand too much so the healing process can happen.”
Jocelyn rushes out of the hall with an armful of bandages. “I’ve got them.”
“Those will certainly be enough to take care of this little wound,” Constance says.
Jocelyn’s face turns red. “I didn’t know how bad it was. I’ll put the extras away when we’re done.”
“Hold this while I tie it.”
Jocelyn holds the bandage in place, while Constance knots it together. It pinches a bit, and then feels normal. Once it’s finished, Constance inspects it. “Thank you, Jocelyn. After you put the bandages away, will you check on the soup for me?”
“I’d be happy to. It may take me a minute, though. I made a bit of a mess in my hurrying about.”
Constance nods. “Soup will be there when you’re done.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jocelyn scurries out with her arms full of linen scraps.
I pull at the loose ends of my bandage as the work continues on around me.
Stewart strides in the room. “My lady, would you please join me and Constance?”
“I would.” I stand and follow him down the hall to Constance’s room.
We enter the room, and I take the only chair. Constance sits on the bed, and Stewart stands by the door.
“We’re lucky that this is a merchant ship and not something worse,” Stewart says. “One close encounter with pirates is more than I wanted.”
Constance scoffs. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“Only because something was holding them back at first, and we weren’t here when they finally let loose,” Stewart says.
Constance’s eyes tighten, but before she can respond, Stewart continues. “There was something odd about them. That’s what I wanted to discuss. I understand the king’s plan, but I fear your location was leaked, my lady. More danger is probably already on its way.”
“I agree,” Constance says. “They seemed sure she was here.”
He nods. “I don’t how it happened, but I’d feel better if we left with this merchant ship. Your parents won’t know where you are, but then neither will any spies.”
“You think there are spies in my parents’ court?” I can’t imagine someone turning on my family.
“Unfortunately, it’s a real possibility. We’ll worry about discovering the traitor or traitors once we have you well guarded. If we hitch a ride, we should be able to make it all the way to Amara within a week or two.”
He’s right that I’m not safe here, but is going with strange humans any better? Maybe not, but it’s better than waiting around. Plus I’ll get a chance to see what humans are like up close. “Your advice is sound. We should make travel arrangements with them.”
“I agree,” Constance says. “Do they have room for all of us?”
“Yes. I learned that half of their goods were damaged in the storm. Worst comes to it, we could sleep with the cargo.” He looks at me. “It won’t be comfortable.”
“Neither was the journey here. I’ll live.”
He nods and turns to leave.
“Wait, I just had a thought.” Constance scrutinizes me before continuing. “There’s a problem. We haven’t yet figured out the consequences of this spell you will be continually performing. If we undertake this journey, you need to use it much more than I’m comfortable with, given how little we know.”
“She’s right,” Stewart says. “We don’t know what harm it may be causing.”
After a couple minutes, the spell becomes a background thought. After a few hours, it becomes as much a part of me as breathing. The reminder it could be doing me harm sets me on edge.
I brush imaginary crumbs from my dress. “What other option do I have? My parents won’t know something is wrong, so they won’t send a ship to pick us up early. Will any other ship even come? If it does, it’s likely to have the same predicament, with me having to disguise myself. Except they may not be people we trust to sail with.”
Constance stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. “We don’t have any other good options, but I want to make sure you’re aware that we don’t know what risk this carries for you. Are you all right with having to deal with the unintended consequences?”
“I’ll have to be. Let us hope whatever the consequences end up being, they’re something we can deal with.”
Chapter
Nine
The merchant ship looms over me as I follow Stewart up the gangplank. I try to make myself as servant-like as possible—the condition on which I was able to accompany him to talk to Captain Zaccheus. That and keeping by Stewart while not saying anything. I didn’t agree to keep quiet. If there’s something I want to say, I’m going to say it, but I said I’d stay by Stewart. I’m not completely daft.
As we make our way on deck, a couple of crew members skirt around us.
“Pardon me,” Stewart calls out. The two men stop and turn toward us, and he asks, “Where can I locate Captain Zaccheus?”
Both men stay silent, shifting their weight as they eye Stewart, paying particular attention to his ears. At least mine look human at the moment. That may be a point in our favor.
“The helm,” one says, hands balling into fists.
“Thank you,” Stewart replies, but the men run off before the words are out of his mouth. Completely uncivilized. Though there are times I wish I could get away with such behavior.
Stewart sighs and turns toward the helm. “Let’s get this over with.”
We walk across the tidy deck and stop several feet away from the captain and a crew member he’s speaking with. Captain Zaccheus isn’t as huge as Captain Smythe, but he still towers over those around him. I can’t tell how old he is just by looking at him. His skin is darkened from the sun and a bit wrinkly, but his hazel eyes twinkle with youth. The short cut of his hair makes it harder to see its slate color, though there are still specks of black in it.
The crew member he’s conversing with holds himself at attention with a manner of respect. The captain points at the younger man and says something I can’t hear. The man nods and leaves, not bothering to glance at us. Captain Zaccheus turns to us with a smile. I smile back, grateful there’s another person who won’t treat us coldly on this ship, besides Robert.
“Can we have a word with you?” Stewart asks.
“Go ahead. I’m free,” the captain replies.
“We have a favor to ask. After the pirates took or destroyed most of our things, we’re not prepared to wait for the ship that’s supposed to come back for us. We were wondering if you’d give us passage on your ship, even if we need to sleep in the cargo hold, in exchange for our labor and cooking. Constance is the best cook you’ll ever find.”