Seeing is Believing

by Sasha L. Miller

  Weston grinned, a quick flash of a smile, before pulling Micaiah into the dance. He danced wonderfully, if a bit stiffly, and Micaiah lost himself to the rhythm of the music, closing his eyes to enjoy Weston's closeness and the confidence with which he led the dance.

  They danced three dances before the music player died. Micaiah shot it a dirty look past Weston's shoulder, closer than they had been at the start. Weston didn't let him go, his cheeks flushed a little and a smile curving his lips as he looked at Micaiah.

  "Sorry," Micaiah apologized. "It should start up again in a moment. It just shorts out a little when Frey's dust gets into it."

  "I can wait," Weston reassured, and his hands didn't so much as twitch to let Micaiah go. Micaiah stared at him for a moment, wondering if he should be daring and press closer to Weston.

  "Hmm." Micaiah edged a little closer. "Weston."

  "Yes?" Weston asked, a hint of nervousness flashing across his face.

  "Can I ask why you accepted? If I'm not crossing any boundaries," Micaiah asked gently. He didn't think it was because Weston was afraid to say no, for fear of being cursed again.

  "Your feet are pretty," Weston confessed and Micaiah laughed delightedly. Twisting a little, he glanced down at Weston's sock-clad feet, poised at the correct spots for the next steps of the dance.

  "I like your feet, too," Micaiah confided in a loud whisper, though there was no one to hear it besides Weston.

  "They're big. Wide," Weston countered, his hand pressed against Micaiah's hip. The other was still wrapped around Micaiah's hand, warm and dry. "Not anywhere near as pretty as yours."

  Micaiah grinned, tugging his hand free and placing it flat against Weston's broad, firm chest.

  "Well," he drawled slowly, meeting Weston's gaze boldly as he stepped closer to Weston, as close as he could without stepping on Weston. "You know what they say about men with big feet."

  Weston blushed, but he laughed too, giving Micaiah an almost shy, teasing smile as the music abruptly flooded through the ballroom once more.

  "You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Weston chided, collecting Micaiah's hand and drawing him back into the steps of the dance.

  "So it's not true?" Micaiah teased, and Weston twirled him half a heartbeat before he should've, snapping him back with more force than was necessary and Micaiah found himself pressed firmly to Weston's chest, dance steps forgotten.

  "That's something you'll have to find out on your own," Weston informed him in a tone of voice that reminded Micaiah of his prim and proper etiquette teacher.

  Still, he briefly contemplated a quick grope to find out, except then Weston dipped his head and kissed him, slow and sweet, and Micaiah all but melted against him. Weston's arms were strong, wrapped around him, and Micaiah eagerly kissed back, twining his arms around Weston's neck.

  Weston broke away after a moment, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to Micaiah's lips, and Micaiah was smiling inanely but he didn't really care. He let Weston draw him back into the dance, and if they danced much closer than propriety allowed, well, Micaiah wasn't going to complain.

  Fishy Bits

  Kinsu flinched as the door slammed behind him. Training his eyes on his brother's desk, he did his best to not quite meet Kell's eyes. It hadn't been his fault—but it hadn't been the crew's fault either, and Kinsu would be damned if he'd let them suffer when he could divert it.

  "Do you think me a fool, Kinsu? This is the fifth 'freak storm' that The Spirit's run afoul of in how many voyages?" Kell demanded, and Kinsu sighed.

  "It's always in the same area, Kell. And other ships have reported running into them in the same area." Kinsu reasoned, folding his hands together behind his back to keep from fidgeting. "If we just adjust the course—"

  "No." Kell cut him off, and Kinsu frowned again, meeting Kell's dark eyes. "That would add too much in the way of expenses, especially since you've managed to lose the cargo every time. I'm beginning to rethink the wisdom of letting you on one of my boats, Kinsu."

  "Kell!" Kinsu protested immediately. "It wasn't anyone's fault, least of all mine!"

  "Ah, but every voyage The Spirit has taken with you onboard ends up more expensive than it's worth." Kell mused, sitting back at his desk and frowning thoughtfully at Kinsu. Kinsu fought the urge to glare, because of course Kell would think of this first, even though there was absolutely no logic behind it.

  "It's just a run of bad luck—"

  "Five freak storms, a leaky hold, two crew members seriously wounded, rotten food stores and that one incident where the ship got lost and somehow mysteriously ended up in port two days later, hopelessly lost?" Kell listed off. "No, I think it's more than just a run of bad luck, Kinsu."

  Kinsu sagged. "Those were just … flukes." He whispered, fighting tears. Yes, things were going badly now, but they'd get better. Kell couldn't be thinking to ground him, could he?

  "Too many flukes, Kinsu. I think it'll be best if The Spirit were to make her next journey without you aboard." Kell told him, voice gentle.

  "Kell—" Kinsu started, blinking rapidly because he really didn't need Kell's nagging about the crying too.

  "My decision is final." Kell declared firmly. "Your rooms have been maintained, as usual. We'll discuss other options for your future later."

  Kinsu stood quickly, turning and leaving the room quickly before he could do anything stupid. At least Kell hadn't blamed The Spirit's crew. No, he'd just blamed Kinsu, because of course it had to be Kinsu who was bad luck. Wiping the silently falling tears from his cheeks, Kinsu frowned miserably. Life on land was terrible. Kell would likely be looking into sending him further inland now, to work with the merchanting parts of his—technically, their—organization.

  Kinsu left the 'business' wing of the mansion quickly, glad when he managed to avoid running into any of the servants. He got enough mocking because of his less-than-masculine looks and the tears that always forced themselves out when he was upset. Combine tears with Kell's office again, and of course there would be more silly rumors flying.

  Kinsu climbed the back stairs slowly, taking the time to collect himself. Settling his breathing and wiping the remnants of tears from his cheeks, Kinsu wondered how he was going to break this to the crew. He'd only been on board as an observer, but The Spirit's crew had been friendly and made the ship a home for him.

  Kinsu sighed, scrubbing dark curls away from his forehead. They'd probably be none-too-pleased with Kell's decision either. Pushing into his bedroom, Kinsu shut the door heavily behind him. Crossing the room towards the wardrobe slowly, Kinsu tugged off the stiff jacket—Kell insisted he wear nice clothing when he was on land, 'as befitting his station,' or some hogwash like that. Like the clothing he wore made a difference when everyone thought he was cracked for traveling the sea when he could be at home, living a pampered, spoiled life.

  "You know, you'd be teased less by the boys if you showed your muscles more often." A smirking voice—and Lenol was smirking—observed as Kinsu pulled off his shirt.

  Yelping, Kinsu dropped the shirt and crossed his arms over his chest, turning to glare at his bed.

  "Lenol, what are you doing here?" Kinsu demanded, frowning at The Spirit's first mate.

  "Waiting for you." Lenol sat up, setting his dirty boots onto the floor. Kinsu sighed, turning to the wardrobe and pulling out a plain, white shirt, without any of the obnoxious frills on it that Kell seemed to like.

  "Went badly, then?" Lenol asked, and Kinsu nodded miserably, reminded again of Kell's decision.

  "Worse. Sort of." Kinsu tugged the shirt into place before wandering over to the bed. Kinsu hated his room—Kell had picked out the decorations and it was all 'noble' and 'befitting' and 'ugly.' Slumping down on the bed linen, Kinsu noted with a bit of glee the mud Lenol had left on the bedspread.

  "Oh?" Lenol encouraged, smiling roguishly and wrapping an arm around Kinsu's shoulders.

  "Kell doesn't blame any of you. Or The Spirit." Kinsu offered, shifting closer
to Lenol's warmth.

  "But?" Lenol prompted, and Kinsu shut his eyes, fighting tears again. He didn't want to leave The Spirit or her crew behind.

  "He thinks I'm bad luck. He's keeping me land bound," Kinsu muttered, unsurprised when Lenol's grip tightened.

  "You're not." Lenol stated angrily. "He can't do that—"

  "He did." Kinsu interrupted. "Don't go against him Lenol. It'll be worth your commission."

  "No one's going to like this." Lenol promised darkly. "So we haven't had a successful trip in awhile. It happens, and he has no reason to yank you away from us."

  "Five freak storms? In a row?" Kinsu tried to convince himself, because Kell had likely had this in mind for ages and wouldn't be swayed back from it. He probably had other plans too. Kinsu sighed. "Did you know we haven't had a profitable run since I came onboard?"

  Kinsu pulled away from Lenol's embrace, tearing a hand through his tangled curls. Wincing when his fingers caught on a snag, he paced across the room, yanking his hand free irritably.

  "You're not bad luck." Lenol repeated, staring at Kinsu thoughtfully. "You've managed to avert a fair number of crises on your own—"

  "It doesn't matter." Kinsu turned, turned, staring at him bleakly. "Kell won't change his mind."

  "I'll talk to him." Lenol decided, standing up.

  "No!" Kinsu's eyes widened. "That won't help."

  "Kinsu—" Lenol paced across the room to where Kinsu stood, resting a warm, broad hand on Kinsu's shoulder. "We won't leave without you."

  Kinsu shook his head—Lenol might mean that now, but he didn't own the ship, and he could be fired. As could the rest of the crew.

  "I'll try again," Kinsu decided, letting Lenol pull him into a hug. Lenol smelled of sea and sweat, and Kinsu breathed deep because for all he knew this would be the last time he saw Lenol—The Spirit was due to leave port the day after tomorrow.

  *~*~*

  Kinsu hid in the attic for three days as The Spirit left port reluctantly. He hadn't meant to—he'd gone up early in the day to watch the ships pull from port, and the trapdoor had lost its propping. It only opened from below, which was stupid, as it had taken a servant on some random errand to find him and let him out.

  "Kinsu, you really need to stop sulking." Kell reprimanded, looking immaculate as he sat, perched on Kinsu's bedside.

  "Not sulking." Kinsu mumbled, sneezing into his pillow. It wasn't his fault that being stuck in the drafty attic for three days without food or water had made him sick. Kell sighed, brushing his hand against Kinsu's forehead.

  "Do you really not feel well?" Kell asked gently, and Kinsu blinked blearily at him. He was tired, aching, and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "I'll call a doctor."

  "I got stuck, I wasn't sulking." Kinsu insisted, sneezing again. Kell smiled, looking faintly amused.

  "Alright, Kinsu. Just rest for now." Kell leaned down, kissing him lightly on the forehead. Kinsu made a face, earning a smile from Kell as he stood. Kinsu watched with mostly closed eyes as Kell left, and then drew the blankets over his head to have a good sulk.

  He wanted more than anything to be out at sea now. He never got sick out there, be it luck or just the wonders of fresh air. Kell had forbid him from leaving the house, afraid he'd sneak onboard The Spirit or something, so Kinsu had had to hope that Lenol would let everyone know what was happening. Kinsu sneezed miserably—he missed The Spirit already.

  *~*~*

  Lenol stared steadily across the table at his drinking opponent. Six empty flagons sat between them, and another six sat before both of them. Lenol smirked, because he was going to win this contest, and get smashed out of his mind. Lifting one of the full flagons in salute, Lenol downed the ale quickly.

  The man—a crewman from The Gallant—saluted back and drank his down just as quickly. Lenol snagged the next, because he wanted to get as drunk as he could, as fast as he could, and that would take a lot of ale. More than what he had in front of him, and probably more than one inn.

  There were few things stupider than signing off your commission. Signing off your commission as first mate because of a merchant brat who'd been kept home was worse. And of course, doing that, and then finding out that said merchant brat had been 'missing' for the last three days …

  The Spirit had left port three days back. Lenol thunked down his mug and went for the next one, pausing only long enough to let his drinking partner finish his. Kinsu was such a sneaky little brat—he'd had Lenol all convinced he was staying behind because of his brother. And then he'd snuck right back on board The eliSpirit anyway.

  "—hear?" A voice from right behind him caught Lenol's attention momentarily, distracting him from the alcohol before him.

  "What, Wree?" A second voice asked, exasperated.

  "Lord Tendell's brother was found. Apparently the whelp got locked in the attic and no one found him for three days!"

  "You can't be—"

  The voices faded into the background of the tavern again, and Lenol slowly unwrapped his fingers from the next mug of ale. If that was true, and Kinsu hadn't actually left—

  "Hey—"

  "Here." Lenol tossed the winnings at the man. "Buy yourself some better ale." Standing, Lenol pushed his way out of the tavern. He had a merchant whelp to see.

  *~*~*

  Kinsu was half-asleep, warm and comfortably befuddled from the strange-smelling doctor's medicine. Drowsing pleasantly, it took him a moment to realize the window was open, and another moment to take in the fact that someone was in his room.

  It was dark though, so Kinsu was having trouble making out who it was. It looked like Lenol, but Lenol had left days ago. Kinsu mumbled something to that effect into his pillow, drawing the Lenol look-alike's attention.

  "So you are here." He said, crossing the room to Kinsu's bedside. He looked even more like Lenol from this close.

  "You're not," Kinsu mumbled, sniffing before snot started to dribble out his nose. Lenol dropped to his knees next to Kinsu's bed, looking concerned.

  "Are you okay?" Lenol pressed a cool hand against Kinsu's forehead, his eyes widening. "You're burning up."

  "I'm sick," Kinsu told him solemnly, letting his eyes shut.

  "No shit," Lenol muttered, moving his hand away and pulling the covers up around Kinsu's shoulders. "Want something to drink?"

  "Yes, please." Kinsu decided, because now that Lenol mentioned it, his throat was rather dry. Not that Lenol was here. He was probably having fever dreams or something, because Lenol was on The Spirit, halfway across the world by now.

  "Everyone thought you'd stowed away." Lenol told him, a strong hand tilting his head up to meet cool glass. The water tasted funny, but Kinsu drank it anyway because Lenol would be upset if he didn't.

  "I would've." Kinsu admitted as soon as he'd swallowed the last of what Lenol would let him have. "Kell wouldn't let me leave the house though. I got locked in the attic watching you leave, so you're not here."

  "I didn't leave, Kinsu." Lenol smiled wryly. "I thought you were still here."

  "So?" Kinsu yawned, burrowing into his pillow. "Tired."

  "It's okay. Sleep." Lenol soothed, cool fingers smoothing the sweat-damp curls from his forehead.

  "But—"

  Lenol tensed, and stood. "I wasn't here," Lenol told him, and Kinsu watched in confusion as Lenol disappeared out the window, shutting it behind him.

  A moment later the door to Kinsu's room opened and Kell stared suspiciously around the room. Kinsu was fast asleep, though, and everything else seemed to be in order. Lingering a moment more, Kell turned away slowly, shutting the door with a quiet click.

  *~*~*

  Kinsu woke up with a headache throbbing in his temples. His cold was gone, oddly enough, and after an extended period of time where he tried to smother the headache with his pillow, Kinsu gave up and stumbled from bed in search of a headache tonic.

  Yawning, Kinsu crossed the room to the dresser, half-remembering snatches of a dream. With
Lenol, no less. Kinsu flushed—well, dreams with Lenol weren't that uncommon. Shaking it off, Kinsu applied himself to mixing the headache powder in a little glass of water. Swallowing it quickly, he made a face at the taste and turned back around.

  Maybe he'd go for a ride today. Kell had no reason to keep him inside any longer, and Kinsu missed seeing the sea. Stripping off his shirt, Kinsu made a face. Maybe he'd bathe first. Tossing the shirt towards the door for the servants to pick up, Kinsu crossed the room to the wardrobe and flung open the doors.

  "No, don't stop there," Lenol teased, and Kinsu flushed, turning with a scowl.

  "Lenol?" Kinsu hesitated, staring because Lenol was lounging on his bed again, like he'd been there all night, which he so hadn't been, which wasn't really helping the flush.

  "Yes?" Lenol grinned as though there was absolutely no reason for him to not be there.

  "But—The Spirit—" Kinsu started, before remembering he wasn't wearing a shirt.

  "I resigned my commission." Lenol shrugged, watching him too carefully.

  "But why?" Kinsu grabbed a shirt at random and tugged it on. One of Kell's, because it was far too big. How it had made its way into Kinsu's closet was a mystery, though.

  "I didn't think it right to sail on without you." Lenol replied casually, and Kinsu damned the part of him that wanted to cry because of that.

  "You should've." Kinsu frowned, slumping down on the bed next to him and resisting the urge to slump against him. "You're … you won't find first mate on any other ship."

  "Eh." Lenol ruffled his curls. "Doesn't matter. What are your plans?"

  "My plans?" Kinsu echoed, flattening his hair down.

  "Yes. Your plans." Lenol repeated, grinning at him, and Kinsu really wished he'd stop doing that.

  "Wait, were you here last night?" Kinsu demanded, confused. "I thought—"

  "I was," Lenol confirmed, pressing his hand against Kinsu's forehead. "You seem better."

  "I feel better," Kinsu agreed, smiling when Lenol dropped a casual arm on his shoulders.

  "That's good. So. Your plans?" Lenol steered the conversation back around.