by L. Danvers
DAPHNE’S EYES POPPED open. She dug her nails into Lillian’s shoulder. She threw off the covers, her face flashing white with each lightning strike.
The vessel rocked with enough force to make their stomachs churn. Daphne and Lillian scrambled across the floor. They found it difficult to keep their footing. The girls pulled open the door and were met with such a forceful gust and onslaught of rain that they were almost tossed on their backs.
Drenched and clinging to each other for dear life, they trudged forward, fighting their way through the elements and on to the main deck. Daphne usually considered herself to be braver than Lillian, but having never experienced a storm like this, she was just as terrified as Lillian was. They were aboard a small vessel surrounded by stretches upon stretches of water. This boat was all the shelter they had.
They marched through icy sheets of rain until they spotted Thomas and Merek. Merek held his long, spider-like fingers around a stair rail to keep steady, though it was so slick that he was finding it hard to keep his grip. “We were just coming for you. There’s a terrible storm.”
“Yes, we can see that,” Daphne shouted back over a clap of thunder. She could have smacked him for saying such a stupid thing were it not for the innocence with which he said it. The sky turned a brilliant white, then went dark once more as the wind rolled past. Daphne pulled stray strands of Lillian’s yellow hair from her mouth, trying to keep from gagging. She stepped back, watching as a tremendous wave surfaced over the side of the vessel and crashed over the edge. The boat rocked, and Daphne flung her whole arm around the stair rail. It was all she could do to keep from crying. The Acerbus Sea was nothing like the gentle waters depicted in the paintings. Daphne cursed them for being so misleading, though it was doubtful anyone would have wanted to commission a painting depicting this. There was nothing beautiful about this storm.
Her stomach flipped with each way the ship turned. She drew her fingers to her mouth, gulped and said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Thomas put his arm around her to help her keep steady. “We need to get them to the lower deck,” he said to Merek, who offered his arm to Lillian.
Together, the four of them descended to the lower part of the ship. Lillian startled with each thunderclap, and Daphne’s breath caught more than once. She asked where Gregory was, and Merek told her he was steering the vessel. She felt foolish for asking. The answer was obvious, but somehow confirming where he was eased her nerves. She hoped he was alright.
Thomas and Merek led the girls inside a dark room and had them sit against the far wall. They warned them to stay away from the door, as it was likely to be thrust open by the strong winds. The girls promised they would do as they said, and Thomas and Merek assured them they would return after they assisted Gregory.
Daphne and Lillian sat huddled together, shivering.
The princess couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. She took deep breaths and tried thinking of calming things like her favorite memories of her mother and Phillip, but it was no use. The urge to give into the cold was too strong. Lillian was crying. She didn’t blame her friend. She was about ready to cry, too. It sounded like they were at the base of a waterfall with the rain crashing down on them. Every now and then, the rain would let up for the most fleeting of moments. During those brief respites, Daphne thought she could hear the boys striking the sails. It was hard to tell. Their shouts were muffled by the pounding rain.
They rocked back and forth, back and forth. Daphne rested her hands on her belly, taking long, deep breaths. Lillian sensed the princess felt sick. She tucked loose, dripping strands of hair that dangled in front of Daphne’s face behind her ear and patted her back. Daphne felt bad swatting her away, but she didn’t want to be touched. It magnified the swirling sensation in her stomach.
Her eyes locked on the bottom corner of the door. She focused on the water sliding under the crack and the random bursts of light flashing through the frame. In time, the sickening sensations within her settled. The ship steadied itself. She turned to Lillian, and they both rested the backs of their heads against the wall in relief.
The minutes dragged on, and it worried Daphne that Thomas and Merek hadn’t come back to check on them. “Do you think we should see what’s going on up there?”
“They told us to stay here.”
“Everything’s under control now, though. We’re hardly rocking anymore.”
Lillian sighed, stood and helped Daphne to her feet. Daphne felt bad that Lillian went along with everything she said, no matter how much she disagreed. She was her maidservant, but she was also her friend. As far as Daphne was concerned, the expectations of propriety had waned long ago, but Lillian was as loyal as she was obedient. It was her nature.
They sloshed their way out the door and up the soaked staircase. The winds had calmed, but the rain continued to fall in sheets. Nevertheless, they made their way to the helm. There, they found Gregory, Thomas and Merek.
“What are you doing up here?” Gregory shouted between claps of thunder.
“Told you,” Lillian mumbled under her breath. Daphne chose to ignore her.
“We were worried,” Daphne said. “We hadn’t heard from anyone in a while. We wanted to see what was going on.”
The violent rain softened as they stood there talking. Daphne raised her chin. She looked through the pummeling raindrops and found two storm clouds separating. Behind them, the first rays of morning light appeared. The rain was cold, but there was hope that it would soon clear.
“I’m going to back to bed,” Lillian said once she was satisfied that the worst of the storm had passed. She waved to the others, and she descended the steps.
Thomas and Merek got to work adjusting the sails, but Gregory just stood there looking at Daphne.
It wasn’t the type of look that gave her butterflies. The concern in his eyes worried her.
His forehead was wrinkled, and his mouth was turned.
She studied his expression in utter confusion. Warmth drained from her body. In its place was a distinct chill. Gregory knitted his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, and she followed his line of vision to her pale hands.
“Are you feeling—” he started, but he stopped when her knees buckled. Daphne wasn’t sure what was happening. She had heard talk amongst her father’s knights of something they called the cold sickness. People would get so cold it would become life-threatening. She worried that’s what was happening to her.
She found herself wrapped in Gregory’s arms, and he shouted to Merek to man the helm while he tended to her. He lifted her and carried her downstairs. She was surprised at how safe she felt with him considering how slick she knew the steps to be. His chest was warm against her shivering body, and she rested her cheek against it. In any other situation, she would have felt that to be too familiar of a gesture on her part, but her body craved heat. It was a matter of survival, and he didn’t seem to mind.
He kicked in the door to his quarters and set her on his bed.
“We have to get you out of these clothes,” he said. Though she was taken aback at the suggestion, she thought it was sweet the way his voice shook. “You’re losing body heat,” he explained. “I, uh, promise I won’t look. Here.” He pulled the sheet off the bed and handed it to her. “Undress and wrap yourself in this, alright?”
Their eyes met when her chilled hand grazed against his warm one. She took the sheet. He turned around and closed the door, and he faced it while she took off her wet clothes. Daphne trembled as her garments piled on the ground. She kicked them aside and wrapped herself in the white sheet just as he’d instructed. It had been a good suggestion. She already felt a little better.
He cleared his throat. “Are you finished?”
“Yes.” She sat on the edge of the bed and checked to make sure the sheet still covered her. “You can turn around now.”
He pulled a patchwork quilt from the bed and wrapped it around her. The way he looked at her made her thin
k he was worried she could collapse any moment, and it was possible he was right. Despite being covered in two blankets, her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Cold.”
He unbuttoned his shirt as he stood there beside her, and for a moment she could have sworn she was hallucinating. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Keeping you warm. You need heat, and this shirt is drenched.”
She didn’t have the energy to point out the impropriety.
His shirt fell to the ground, and he sat beside her.
Daphne rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. He wrapped his arms tight around her. She felt his hands move up and down the small of her back, trying to warm her.
His chin rested on top of her head, and his heat transferred to her body. The feeling began to return to her extremities, and her mouth turned upward into a smile.
She could have pulled away then, but it felt good to be there in his arms. She cared for him more than she’d like to admit.
He was... not what she expected.
There was a gentleness about him. She felt safe when he was near.
And then she wondered if she truly did have the cold sickness for thinking such a thing. He wasn’t holding her because he wanted to be. He needed her alive if he wanted his reward.
The shivers stopped, and she pulled away. She bit her lip, buying time to search for the right words to say. She suddenly felt awkward sitting there beside him.
She was embarrassed by her own thoughts. She wondered what Gregory was thinking.
He cleared his throat again. “Are you, uh, warm now?”
She nodded.
“Alright,” he said with a peculiar sense of urgency. “I’m going to relieve Merek. I’ll have someone check on you in a while. Just, uh, stay here.”
She hugged the quilt tighter around herself and nodded once more.
He stood, buttoned his wet shirt back over his chest and turned to leave.
“Gregory,” she said. He let go of the brass door handle and looked back at her. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “You needed me.”
More than he knew.
Chapter Twelve
Days passed before Daphne regained her strength. They were long and dull. She didn’t have the patience for seafaring life. When Lillian wasn’t forcing food down her throat or trying to cheer her up, Daphne spent her time staring at the slashed oil painting of the mutiny on the Acerbus Sea. But instead of thinking of things like the lives that were lost that day or of what unknown perils waited for her and her comrades on the remainder of their journey, she thought of Gregory. She thought of how he’d tended to her. She tried remembering the looks he’d given her, the words he’d said. She tried deciphering what he had meant when he said she needed him. Did he mean he would have done the same for anyone? Or did he mean that he looked after her because she needed him?
She didn’t know why she wasted so much time thinking about it. It didn’t matter. As soon as they returned to Vires, she would have to pick a suitor, and he would return to his camp in the silver forest. She felt sick again just thinking about it.
Tired of looking at the four wood-paneled walls of the captain’s quarters, Daphne ventured to the main deck where she found Lillian sitting alone.
Lillian was surprised to see the princess up and about, but Daphne assured her she was well and promised to take it easy. She sat beside Lillian and hugged her arms around her own knees.
Lillian squinted, blinded by the afternoon sun. “Just think,” she said. “We are almost to Proelium. It won’t be long before we reach the Perdeus Ruins, catch up with your brother and can return home.”
Daphne grunted and leaned back, resting her head against a wooden floorboard. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to go home.”
Lillian let out a gasp.
“Don’t get me wrong. I want nothing more than to find Phillip and return him to the castle alive, but as soon as we return, Father will force me to choose a husband.”
“Have you thought about which man you’re going to marry?”
“I don’t want to marry any of them. I don’t love them. I don’t even like them.”
“What were their names again?” Lillian asked. Daphne opened her eyes, cupped her hand over them for shade and turned to her. Lillian flicked her hand and said, “I know there’s Sir Hartley, of course. The others, I mean.”
Daphne was about to answer when a floorboard creaked, and Gregory appeared before them. “Sir Hartley?” he asked.
“Yes,” Lillian answered. “Why? Do you know him?”
“I don’t think so. The, uh, name just sounds familiar. What are you two going on about anyway?” His eyebrow arched in a curious way. The sun shone so brightly behind him that he looked like a mere shadow of himself.
“Princess Daphne’s eighteenth birthday is near. She still has to choose a husband.”
“So, you haven’t made a decision yet?” he asked.
Daphne shook her head. He parted his lips like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself. “I should, uh, go relieve Merek from the wheel.” He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and left.
“Well, that was odd,” Lillian said. They watched his head bob up the steps. Lillian propped herself up on her elbows and eyed a white bird with gray-tipped feathers soaring overhead. She didn’t say anything else about the exchange, and Daphne didn’t push it.
She was tired of thinking about Gregory. She should have been thinking about her poor brother anyway.
While Lillian felt like they were so close to succeeding in their quest, Daphne worried it was an impossible task. There was no guarantee they would find him. If he took a different route, if he ran into trouble... how would they ever know? He could be anywhere.
Worrying about Phillip drained what little energy the princess had left. She retired to the captain’s quarters and took a nap. It wasn’t until Lillian rapped on her door that she awoke. It was dinnertime, and once Daphne told them they could enter, Lillian and the boys carried in baskets of food. Gregory sat opposite of Daphne, and she found every excuse she could think of not to look directly at him. She could feel the gaze of those ever-swirling blue eyes of his resting on her. Thomas noticed it, too. He kept scrunching his eyebrows and looking at the two of them, but Merek was oblivious to it all. He and Lillian were deep in conversation about their childhoods, and somehow she’d gotten on the topic of Hadrien.
“You really like this guy, huh?” Merek asked.
Lillian’s cheeks turned scarlet. She shrugged.
“You should tell him.”
She nearly spat out her wine. “No, no. I couldn’t.”
“Why?” Merek asked. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t like you, too.”
Somehow the red in Lillian’s face turned even brighter. “He just sees me as a friend, and I’m alright with that.”
“I think you should say something.”
“My God,” Thomas said, slamming his tankard so hard it shook the table. “Can we please talk about something other than relationships? Between you two going on about Lillian’s love life and these two over here pretending like they’re not into each other, I’ve had enough.”
“Thomas!” Merek said.
“What? You know it. Lillian knows it. They know it. Why are we all pretending like we don’t know it?”
Daphne’s eyes burned.
She didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. She couldn’t look at Gregory. At any of them.
The feet of Lillian’s chair scraped against the floorboard. She swatted her napkin against the table. “That’s enough wine for the night. I think you should leave.” There was such authority in her voice. Daphne was thankful to have her as a friend. The boys didn’t waste any time leaving the room.
When the door latched behind them and the girls were
sure they were out of earshot, Lillian hugged Daphne. The princess cried in her arms. Lillian stroked her untamed hair—braiding hadn’t been a top priority while Daphne was recovering—and asked her why she was crying.
“It’s too much, Lillian. He’s the first person I’ve felt anything for, and there’s no point in pursuing it because we can never be together. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be getting married soon.”
“Why can’t you marry Gregory?”
“He’s an outlaw!” Daphne felt bad for snapping at her, but she couldn’t help herself. She was overcome with emotion. “I can’t marry an outlaw.”
Lillian had every right to be upset with Daphne for the way she yelled at her. She had every right to snap back. But she didn’t. Her green eyes were wide with concern. Her voice was steady and reassuring. “The Daphne I know has never been one to follow tradition.”
DAPHNE TOSSED AND TURNED all night. She didn’t know how she was going to face Gregory in the morning. She was mortified. She couldn’t believe Thomas had the nerve to say what he did in front of everyone. How could he do that to her?
If it hadn’t been for Lillian, she never would have left their room. They woke up early the next day. Lillian brought her breakfast. She had told the boys to eat elsewhere. She swept Daphne’s hair into one braid that cascaded over her shoulder and told her not to let them see her sweat. She said Daphne should act as if everything were fine, and the princess took her advice.
Daphne wore a smile when they left the room and caught up with Gregory, Thomas and Merek on the main deck. There was an awkward exchange of banter until Lillian shrieked and said, “Is that...?”
Daphne looked to where she was pointing. Sure enough, in the distance, there was land. Proelium. Daphne placed her elbows on the edge of the ship and rested her chin on her hands. The air was salty, and the waves crashing against their vessel splashed a cool mist against her face. Her worries fell aside. She once again felt hope that they would indeed catch up with Phillip. That they would succeed in getting him back to the castle. That this entire journey hadn’t been for nothing.
