by Lora Edwards
A knock at the door had pleasure rushing through her. She had chosen these lodgings because they had a bathhouse, and that knock was bound to be the maid telling her it was her turn.
Ovidia opened the door, giving the girl on the other side a bright smile.
The girl smiled back, a bit surprised at the joy that beamed out of Ovidia.
“Your bath is ready, miss,” the girl said, and Ovidia followed her down the hallway where a round tub had been filled with steaming water. Homemade soap that had been milled with rose petals sat next to the tub with a cloth.
Ovidia thanked the girl and slipped her a gold coin. She quickly stripped out of her clothing and groaned loudly as her body hit the water. It had been three weeks since she had been able to immerse herself in water and get clean. Ovidia proceeded to wash her long blonde hair and body and when she was finished, her skin was soft and smelled of roses. “I may have to get some of that soap—it is simply divine,” she said out loud to the empty room. Ovidia dried off with the sheet left for her for that purpose and put on a clean outfit. She had wisely left a bundle of her clothing in a secret spot before getting on the ship. She was now clean again, and it was a glorious feeling.
Ovidia skipped up the stairs. Now that she was clean again and didn’t smell like sea salt, her stomach let it be known that it was time to eat. After a diet of gruel, hardtack, and the occasional citrus fruit to ward off scurvy, Ovidia was ready for a real meal.
“Erik, are you ready? I’m starving out here! I can’t wait for a good meal,” she called out to him through the closed wooden door.
The door swung open and he was suddenly standing in front of her. He had also taken the opportunity to bathe. His blond hair was slicked back from his face, and the scent of pine wafted from him. He smelled like evergreens and cold, the smell of home. Ovidia fought the desire to close her eyes and just breathe him in.
Erik stood there staring, the smell of the rose soap she had used driving him to distraction. It had been hard for him—harder than anything that he had ever experienced—to be on the boat with her for those three weeks and not tell her of his feelings or show her. He did close his eyes, letting the wave of lust wash over him.
When he opened them, he saw her violet eyes had darkened and knew she was fighting the same attraction to him. Now was not the time; they had a mission to complete and he had to get back to a place where she trusted him.
“Ready to go,” he asked, smiling.
Ovidia nodded, not able to respond as her mouth watered at the scent and sight of him. She needed to get out around other people before she threw herself at him and damned the consequences.
They walked down the well-lit streets, heading toward the seedier district next to the harbor.
“Let’s get some food from The Drunken Hare. They have a good stew, and then we can do the rounds looking for Blackbeard.”
Seated at a table with a thick stew and homemade bread sitting in front of her, Ovidia sighed at the smell coming off of it. There was nothing like being on a pirate ship for three weeks to make you appreciate the little things in life, like being clean and eating a hot meal.
Ovidia dug in enthusiastically, and the food tasted as good as it smelled. She figured at that point, anything that was hot and wasn’t made of cornmeal would be heaven in her mouth. She made quick work of her food then sat back and looked around the tavern.
In the corner huddled, over a beer, sat a man. The others in the tavern were giving him a wide berth, and Ovidia could see why. He was huge—close to seven feet tall, she guessed, with an accuracy born of necessity—and at least 250 pounds, most of that lean muscle she could see rippling when he moved in the chair. Most of his face was covered in a beard the color of a midnight sky. He obviously had a reputation among the pirates from the way they whispered and avoiding looking at him.
Pirates—they looked tough on the outside, but Ovidia had noticed during the recent weeks that they gossiped liked old ladies, and right then it appeared that the large frightening pirate in the corner was the object of that scrutiny and gossip.
He drank from his beer, staring at the table, not making eye contact with anyone in the tavern, just enjoying his beverage and scaring the crap out of everyone.
“Are you seeing this,” Ovidia asked, amused by the behavior of the other patrons.
“See what,” Erik asked, pulling himself away from his dinner.
Ovidia rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing no one wanted to attack you with the way you’re engrossed in your food there mate,” she said, nudging his shoulder good-naturedly.
“You are here, and a fine fighter. I saw you surveying the room and knew I was safe to enjoy my meal because I am in good hands,” he said, pushing away his now empty bowl and leaning back in his chair.
Ovidia stared at him, looking into his deep blue eyes. She couldn’t see any guile or mischief in them. He hadn’t told her that to get closer to her or because he wanted on her good side. He had told her what he believed to be the truth. He never doubted her skill as warrior, and he knew she could protect him. He had no idea how much that meant to her. If she hadn’t already given him her heart, that one statement would have caused her to fall.
Ovidia took a sip of the truly awful ale to cover up her emotions. Erik could read her like a book, but she had been able to hide her true feelings for him so far. Oh, he was more than aware that she lusted after him, but he wasn’t aware of her true feelings, and she was going to keep it that way.
Her attention was drawn away from her thoughts and to the table with the lone man again when she felt his stare on her. Ovidia raised her eyes from her glass and stared back, meeting his gaze from across the room. He was still too far away for her to tell what color his eyes were, but she knew he was staring at her.
She returned the stare boldly, looking straight at him. She saw the beard move a bit—was he smiling?
He drained his beer and stood, the other patrons of the bar watching his every move. He started in her direction, and she felt more than saw Erik sit up straighter beside her, his hand reaching down to sit on the hilt of his sword.
The man looked even more intimidating looming over the table. Ovidia saw that his eyes were a warm chocolate brown and despite the strange behavior of the other patrons, she sensed no malice from this man. She reached out to lightly touch him with the light of empath, and confirmed that he was a kind and gentle person. If that was so, why did everyone seem so wary of him?
“I have heard tales of a beautiful golden-haired warrior who caused quite a stir in this very tavern and then went on to terrorize those at sea. I heard tell of the fury and might of this warrior woman who left her victims alive so they could tell the tale of her great battle prowess. Would that perhaps be you,” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
Ovidia’s lips twitched and her eyes sparkled as she looked up at the giant man. “And if I was?”
“Then it would be a pleasure to meet such a warrior goddess, something like the Valkyries of old,” the man said with a wink.
Ovidia frowned at the reference to Valkyries; this man could not know what she was or where she had come from, unless…
“Blackbeard, I presume,” she said, looking at him for confirmation. That would explain why she didn’t sense any malice from him but the other pirates showed him respect and a wide berth.
“At your service,” he said, swiping his hat off his head and making a mockery of a bow. “Would you mind,” he asked, gesturing to the empty chair at their table.
“No, please have a seat. We have much to discuss,” Ovidia said as he sat down at the table.
In a loud and gruff voice, different than the one he had used to introduce himself to Ovidia, he called out, “Barkeep, another round of ale for me and my friends.” He looked toward the bar and the man behind it nodded quickly then began filling glasses, which he then quickly brought to the table.
“Blackbeard, sir, your drinks,” the man stammered as he set the glasses on
the rough worn table. Blackbeard flipped a coin in the man’s direction without acknowledging him. “Thank you,” the man said, clutching the coin and scurrying back behind the bar.
“It is nice to meet the two of you in the flesh,” the shapeshifter said as he took a deep drink of his beer and scowled at the others in the bar. “It means we are almost to the end and I can go back. Being a pirate sounded romantic and adventurous when I volunteered to come back and take up the mantle of the great pirate, but I have to say I am ready to go back to being myself.” He smiled at the two of them.
“Let’s get this Siren saved and then you can have your final battle and head back to the institute with us,” Ovidia said, winking at him while taking a small sip of the foul-tasting ale.
“I hope you have some direction to go on because there has not been a whisper of such a creature surfacing. Pirates are like a bunch of gossiping old biddies and if someone had spilled about having a treasure like a mermaid or a Siren, I would have heard tell of it,” he said.
“We do. Armand has given us a map that pinpoints the exact location of the island, as well as some amulets that will give us immunity to the song of the Sirens. There are three prepared for us to use they have the addition of allowing us to remember our time on the island, and then the others were made up for the crew,” Ovidia informed him, reaching into her satchel and pulling out one of the amulets.
It was an unassuming thing, small and made from wood. Carved on the front was a mermaid sunning herself on a rock—well, a Siren to be more accurate—and the simple medallion was strung through with a bit of leather.
“This one’s for you. The ones for the crew have a carving of a ship on them. It wouldn’t do for us to get them confused and then not remember any of the vital intelligence we may learn from the Siren king,” Ovidia said, handing the amulet over to the shapeshifter that was Blackbeard.
“It looks as if Armand has thought of everything as usual. All right, get a good night’s sleep. I will start rounding up the crew and getting the ship ready. Meet at the docks at dawn. We are flying the skull and crossbones flag, that is how you will know the Queen Anne’s Revenge,” he said with a wink then drained his beer, gave one last harrowing look around the tavern, and strode out, barking orders to his men that it was time to get the ship ready to sail.
“He’s really gotten the character down,” Ovidia said to Erik, amused by the gruff exterior the shapeshifter showed as Blackbeard and the kind and polite man who’d just had the conversation with them.
“Best do what he says Vid—let’s go get some rest. The next adventure on the high seas awaits at dawn,” Erik said to her in an awful pirate accent.
Ovidia laughed and had the heads of the men in the tavern turning toward her. If she hadn’t had a reputation, she would have been swarmed by them. They knew better; her reputation preceded her, and when they turned to leave, the men found the insides of their glasses very interesting.
As they strolled down the street, the cool night air ruffling her hair and the smell of the sea surrounding her, Ovidia found herself feeling content. She couldn’t remember the last time she could say she felt at peace with all of herself. She was glad Armand had chosen her for this mission. He was a wily sort, and he’d known exactly what Ovidia needed.
Chapter 10
The sun was extending its tendrils across the sky, setting the water on fire the next morning while Erik and Ovidia stood on the dock in front of a massive ship. The Queen Anne’s Revenge, a stolen cargo ship Blackbeard had liberated from the queen’s own fleet, had been reoutfitted as a pirate ship. Large cannons lined the side, their black metal gleaming from a recent polish.
Ovidia sighed. It was a good-looking ship, and she couldn’t wait to get aboard and explore it.
“Morning! Are you ready for an adventure?” Blackbeard called out as he walked down the dock, his heavy footfalls making noise on the old warped wood.
“I thought you would have stayed with the ship,” Erik said as he came to stand in front of them, looking admiringly up at the ship.
“I had a date with a lady—have to keep my reputation up,” he said, winking at them. “This ship is a looker, that’s for sure. Old Blackbeard did well when he relieved her majesty of this particular vessel. He outfitted her well enough, but when I took over, I made some other changes,” he said as the crew, having caught sight of them below, lowered the gangplank.
They boarded the ship and were given a tour. Even on a ship the size of the Revenge, it didn’t take long.
“There are five cabins. I have one, the first mate occupies one, and there are three guest cabins, as it were. Some people fancy a ride across the great wide ocean on a pirate ship, and we try to be accommodating, we do.” He led Ovidia to a plain wooden door, and then Erik to the one beside it.
“Here are your cabins, I hope they are to your liking. Take some time to freshen up while the crew and I get us into the waters, then we can get back together to look at the map and make our heading toward the island.”
Ovidia and Erik found themselves nodding at Blackbeard’s back as he strode down the corridor, barking orders at his crew as he went.
Ovidia opened the door to her cabin and stood stunned. The cabin was less like one on a pirate ship in the 1700s and more like a luxury suite on a cruise ship. It was obvious from the spaciousness of the cabin that magic had been used to extend the size without sacrificing space on the actual ship. Ovidia wondered if there was some kind of glamour on the room hiding the obviously modern amenities from the crew.
The cabin held a wall of windows that looked out onto the moody sea below, and the walls, floors, and bed were done in teakwood that gleamed with a fresh polish, giving the room a faint lemon smell.
There was a wide bench underneath the windows covered with pillows in beautiful jewel tones of ruby, sapphire, emerald, and amethyst. The bed was covered with silk hangings in emerald to match the pillows, the bedspread mirroring the amethyst, and throw pillows in various coordinating colors were spread out on the bed.
There was a cozy sitting area with overstuffed chairs in front of a small fireplace. Fire on a ship was very dangerous. Ovidia walked over and could feel the heat from the flames and hear the crackling of wood. She smiled and stuck her hand right into the middle of the flames, pulling it out again, unharmed. It was an enchantment, but a pretty and realistic one.
There was also a small table and chairs. The legs of each were carved to look as if kraken, the fierce creatures of the deep, crawled up them. A sturdy bronze vase stood atop the table and her favorite flowers of wolfsbane sprang out of it, their purple nodding heads fragrant, drops of dew clinging to the petals.
Ovidia took a deep breath, taking in their spicy scent. She then wandered over to a closed wooden door, hoping against hope that she knew what lay behind it.
Ovidia opened the door and a sigh of relief escaped her. Inside was a spacious bathroom, copper tub and sink both gleaming. The faucets were also sea creatures, and there was a beautiful tiled mosaic of a mermaid gracing the floor. It looked quite like the one in Teagan’s bathroom at the institute, and Ovidia wondered if they had been done by the same artist.
Gleaming jars adorned the sink, the dull copper color glinting in the light. Ovidia chose one at random, and the scent of wolfsbane filled the room as she lifted the lid and smelled the cream inside. She opened the other jars, finding bubble bath, scrubs, and salts, all of the same spicy scent. She couldn’t wait to undress, fill the tub, and soak. There was a chest of drawers outside in the other room, and she hurried out and opened it. She found nightwear by Le Perla—her favorite—in creams and pearls. Ovidia pulled it out and rubbed it against her face, reveling in the feel of the cool satin against her skin.
Opening the other drawers and cabinets, she found towels and other necessities. There was even a very small stacked washer and dryer hidden behind a teak armoire.
Ovidia sighed. She loved the fighting and riding the waves as a pirate, but she h
ad missed some of her creature comforts. She was a dichotomous, one part of her a fierce warrior who liked to fight and didn’t mind the blood of her enemies splashing across her face in the heat of battle while the other part loved expensive shoes and clothes, slathering her body in creams, and the feel of cashmere, silk, and satin next to her skin.
That was one thing she had always loved about Erik: his ability to love and appreciate both parts of her. He wasn’t intimidated by the fierce warrior side of her, and he also appreciated the modern career woman who loved clothes and shoes, fine restaurants and dancing. Ovidia wondered if she would ever be able to find another man who wasn’t intimidated by her warrior side or put off by the modern side of her.
Shaking off the thoughts, she knew she had been in there longer than she had planned. She had meant to drop her pack and satchel inside a serviceable room and go back to confer with Erik and the captain. The opulence and modern amenities had thrown her off.
She strode back toward the door but stopped as she noticed a basket of citrus fruits and a card lying on top. The envelope was addressed to her in a lovely flowing script. She picked it up, admiring the heaviness of the expensive paper. Opening the envelope, she pulled out one piece of paper, the same expensive cream color with the same flowing script.
Miss Valkyrie,
I hope by this time in our acquaintance I have been given leave to call you Ovidia, so I will presume so and address you as such going forward. When I was called back in time to take on this role, I missed some of the creature comforts of home. When I found out you and Mr. Erik Rabec would be joining me, I made another request of the institute and had them outfit a few more of the rooms on the ship with the modern comforts I enjoy in mine. I hope you find your accommodations satisfactory, Ovidia, and I looked forward to the adventure that awaits us.