by Rebecca Rode
She cradled the comb in both hands and fixed her sharp gaze on me, looking alarmingly like a chef considering how to butcher that evening’s dinner. “A gift, you say. Interesting.”
“It’s the truth.” I held her gaze calmly despite the urge to squirm. I’d met many sea captains before, but none had looked at me like this. I ran through my options once more and came up with nothing. This woman was it.
The captain shoved the comb into her bosun’s hands and folded her arms. “The voyage will be dangerous. I want seventy percent of the reward money as well as your dedicated service with the crew. Everyone contributes on my ship.”
Relief hit so strongly, my knees nearly gave way. “I’m a sailor. I’m not afraid of a little work. Can you really get us past that embargo?”
The captain grinned. It was more the baring of teeth than anything. “We’re KaBann. We’ve been slipping past northern ships for decades. Do you agree to the terms or not?”
If King Eurion truly offered a reward for his son’s safe return, I’d give her 100 percent and the clothing off my back. But something felt off about all this. She’d agreed too quickly. There had to be something the captain wasn’t saying, some other reason she’d agreed to this wild journey.
“Very well,” I said carefully. “Aren’t you afraid of Captain Belza, though? You only saw two of his ships. He has an entire fleet of Messaun navy vessels at his command.”
The captain rolled her eyes. “Belza is an impostor, a whiny child. He’ll be dealt with eventually. I’m Captain Dayorn. My first officer, Plete.” Then she gestured to the vessel behind her. “And that is the Bram’s Uncle. Welcome aboard.”
The Bram’s Uncle was smaller than the Majesty and much older, but he—as the crew called the ship—had been built for long-distance travel. The hull had been reinforced with tin rather than extra layers of timber. It gave the lower decks a heavy, metallic smell.
It was strange sailing aboard a KaBann vessel. It felt familiar in some regards yet wildly different in others. The vessel rode the waves in a more sluggish way, as if the sea itself resisted our presence. The sails were triangular, the rigging inefficient, and the workers more relaxed. Even the officers seemed less involved in daily matters. Disagreements were resolved with fists belowdecks. I hadn’t realized how orderly the Majesty truly was.
I’d also forgotten how much the KaBann loved their tobacco. Paval hadn’t used it, but he’d referred to it often in stories. Now I saw why. Ship’s girls and boys as young as eleven chewed it, spitting the dregs with precision. The oldest sailor was a sixty-year-old man with only three teeth left. It didn’t bother him, though. He just slopped the mess around in his mouth, walking about with a dirty shirt and a strange gurgle. My father would never have stood for it.
I threw myself into my duties, thinking it would help distract me from the darkness that lingered at the edge of my memories. I volunteered for every single night watch, working myself into an exhaustion so deep that I collapsed into a dreamless sleep afterward. Even then, I awoke screaming. By the third day, I barely allowed myself to sleep at all.
On the evening of day four, we spotted the Needle cliffs.
We wouldn’t pass through now, of course. Our voyage followed the safer, longer route around to the northeast. I doubted Captain Dayorn had even considered it. But the sight of those cliffs drew me to the rail and held me in place.
Things had been so different when I’d passed through last. My once-complicated life was now utterly simple. There were no worries of mutiny, no pirates chasing us. My deepest concerns no longer included Barrie’s punishment or my lies about a certain passenger or stealing from the crew for Kemp’s payments, nor my father’s trade and reputation. I would never dream of inheriting my father’s ship again. It was only me now. My world involved work, a meal here and there, and perhaps a little sleep.
I would have given the world itself to have all those worries back again.
The girl who’d passed through the Needle before had big, impossible dreams. The girl who approached it now was little more than a hollow, beaten stranger. Not a daughter, but an orphan. Not a sailor, but a survivor. And now I worked on a KaBann ship with a respectful crew and a woman captain who accepted me as exactly who I was, trousers and all. It should have been a dream come true.
Instead, it felt like a nightmare.
The work was the same. The crew were friendly, though blunt and pointed in their questions. I found myself at the rail often, the only place I could count on solitude. Although today I wouldn’t even get that. A bearded man lay curled up in sleep right there on deck, his body flopping back and forth with the rocking of the ship. Yet another difference in discipline between the two ships. If it weren’t for the color in the man’s face, I would have assumed him dead.
A body lying still on the deck, his eyes closed…
My chest lurched and I tore my gaze away.
“Knew I’d find you here,” Captain Dayorn said. She wore a simple robe today. Well, simple except for the elaborate grouping of red and pink jewels at her belt. She filled the empty space beside me and placed her elbows on the rail, mirroring my stance. “Plete is concerned about how much time you’ve been spending alone. Thought I’d check in on you.”
“I’m fine.”
She nodded but didn’t leave. For several minutes, we watched the ocean together. The cliffs were still a tiny lump in the distance. There were endless miles of deep, cold seawater between us.
She tried again. “If you’re searching for Captain Belza, put your mind to rest. We’re a full two days behind him.”
Captain Dayorn didn’t understand. It wasn’t the cliffs nor Belza I watched for now. It was a distant ship with two masts, eight guns, and a polished rail. It was a KaBann cook with a ready smile, offering me watered-down coffee. It was a boy with new scars on his back and deep questions, and an old hammock that creaked and swayed when the waves got rough.
Above all, I searched for a familiar figure on the quarterdeck. He wore a face I knew better than my own, every line purchased from decades under an unpredictable sky, hard on the surface yet gentle as a smile when he approved. I searched for another decade or more of quiet nighttime talks in his cabin and stories of my childhood and that one last secret that he’d never been able to tell.
Something told me I’d never stop looking.
“It was a massacre, wasn’t it?” the captain asked.
“I’d rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.” I focused on a knot in the wooden rail. It had splintered terribly. Father would have had this ship back in its former glory within a day or two.
“You’ve honored their memories well with your sorrow this past week. But I’m sure they would also want you to find happiness.”
I ducked my head. Here I was, living my life’s dream in a very real way. Here I had no secrets. I could be exactly who I was meant to be—a woman sailor, a full and unapologetic embrace of sea life. Yet it felt empty now, a mindless list of tasks to be performed on a rigid schedule.
Sailing was supposed to fill my heart, not drain it.
The scruffy sailor nearby coughed and then pushed himself up, swaying like a drunken man. I’d forgotten he was even there. I watched the man shuffle away until he was out of earshot.
“An uncle,” she said with an apologetic look. “Northerners leave their families behind, but the KaBann bring them along. Sometimes it’s too hard to say goodbye.”
I didn’t answer.
“I don’t enjoy traveling to Hughen,” she continued, as if nothing were wrong. “Not that I fear their ridiculous Edict, of course, but they’re so uptight. King Eurion is insufferable these days, arresting his own people and executing innocents. A prideful man leading a prideful people. A few more years and they’ll be as bad as the Messauns.”
Weeks ago, I would have agreed with her. But now I knew better. Despite my father’s piracy adventures, he’d been pure Hughen. And Aden was far from the stiff princeling I’d once con
sidered him. He was tender, gentle. Thoughtful and determined. Everything the Hughens had once been. Perhaps he would do exactly what he meant to do and defeat Rasmus after all. Then the kingdom would go back to normal, bestowing freedom to everyone.
Except innocent sailors.
Was that what held me back? Was my hatred of Eurion so deep that I would let Aden fail? The thought was disturbing.
“My crew tell me you’re a hard worker who knows her task well,” the captain said.
“I’ve sailed since age five.”
“Have you, now.” That thoughtful tone was back. “Your father was Naamon Garrow, wasn’t he? I didn’t know he had a daughter.”
“I disguised myself as his son for protection.”
The woman nodded. “You should hide that comb of yours when we reach Hughen. Show it to no one.”
I looked at her in surprise. “I thought you wanted it.” Plete had returned it to me, but I assumed it was for safekeeping.
She actually cringed. “No, no. I never want to see it again. Bad fortune. You haven’t shown it to the crew, have you?”
Bad fortune? I shoved my hand into my pocket, letting my fingers close around the comb’s sharp teeth. “Nay. Only you and Plete have seen it.”
“Good. Keep it well hidden.”
I stared at her. “This comb changed your mind about helping me. Why?”
“Let’s just say an old debt is being repaid, one I’ve long desired to make right.” There was pain in her eyes now, something familiar that tugged at my insides.
The firm set of her mouth indicated she wouldn’t be elaborating, and I didn’t push further. Likely it meant she’d known my father and only wanted to help. A captain’s creed, perhaps, a loyalty stronger than one’s fear of bad fortune when faced with an orphan girl and her worthless comb.
She cleared her throat, and the stern captain was back. “Now, keep to your work. Once the king’s reward for this ‘valuable prisoner’ has been bestowed, you will leave the political nonsense behind and join us on our voyage to KaBann. With your experience, you’ll make captain by twenty. It’s a good thing I found you, child. Your skill would have been utterly wasted in the north.” Her tone left no room for argument.
Captain. I had a family out there, a country. A culture that wanted me for who I was and the skills I offered. I could earn my own ship. The possibilities went so far beyond my dreams that I could barely breathe. This woman had just uncovered my place in the world and adorned it with gold and sunshine. Then why did her offer feel so empty?
I knew the truth. It was because, bindings or not, I was still pretending.
Aden needed me. He always had, now more than ever. And I was beginning to wonder if I needed him too. But he wasn’t mine, nor could he ever be. The girl he married would have proper breeding and manners. She wouldn’t wear men’s clothes, and she certainly wouldn’t carry axes.
Aden’s path had been chosen before his birth. Mine had taken a sharp turn at age five.
The memories were little more than glimpses: Mum’s strained smile, her distant expression when I played. How her voice wobbled when she sang to me at bedtime. She’d always smelled of salt and warm bread. They were moments I’d entombed deep in my mind, all except the one that had refused to leave—the moment she’d walked away from me on that dock.
I’d already been rejected once by someone I loved. The wound she’d created that day was a jagged, painful scar on my heart. Now Father was gone too. If Aden sent me away, I wasn’t sure I would ever recover.
I don’t regret your mum. I truly don’t. Everybody deserves love, even if it won’t last.
I leaned forward. Several miles away, dark cliffs stood tall against the blue sky. A harsh black scar revealed where we’d emerged from the channel. It was where I’d fed jardrakes with Aden and dreaded Barrie’s whipping, where I’d seen my father’s weaknesses exposed and wished he could be a better man. It was where I’d denied what I wanted most—freedom, respect. Family.
My throat tightened. That was it. The ocean had been the same for thousands, maybe millions, of years. The sun had risen and set for many pairs of eyes just like mine. There would always be lightning storms, huge waves, the Needle, exotic ports, and jardrakes. It wasn’t the sea itself, but the people I enjoyed it with that gave sailing its flavor. It was the connections between us, the bonds of loyalty and family and friendship.
If I abandoned Aden and left for KaBann, I’d be embracing a lie for the rest of my life. A lie that King Eurion and Captain Belza had beaten me. A lie that my career mattered more than helping that poor little girl in Messau and the murdered sailors in Hughen. A lie that my past never happened, my father never existed, and I could forget Aden forever.
You are kumba-tah, Paval had said. You have a good heart. You’re more concerned about who a person is than what society says they are.
Paval’s easy smile returned to my mind with such force, I couldn’t swallow. I hadn’t been able to bid him farewell, and I’d never get the chance to tell him he was right. The KaBann were so focused on King Eurion’s shortcomings, they couldn’t see the truth about Hughen. At the very least, it was a kingdom of good people trying to climb out of poverty. A land that produced people like my father and Aden. A nation that deserved protection from a man such as Rasmus. And if one man could destroy a country, surely one woman could protect it.
A gull soared high above us, barely giving us a glance. It didn’t care which waters belonged to whom. Borders were invisible things drawn up by humans. I saw in that moment what the Hughens meant when they said birds were sacred. It was freedom that they worshipped. It encompassed everything that Aden was.
Perhaps I was half-pirate, but there was a second part—and that part said I was done hiding.
“Thank you for your kindness,” I said. “But I’ll be staying in Hughen. There’s something I have to do.”
A week later, we arrived in Hughen after midnight. We’d slipped past five Messaun ships and were detained by the sixth, which demanded to know our business. When the captain declared we’d been invited, the ship had allowed us to pass without another word. I didn’t ask her what our invitation was supposedly for. I didn’t really want to know the answer.
We avoided the docks altogether and dropped anchor in a bay miles from town. Tiny lights moved about on the coastline. The sight made my heart skip. If Messaun ships patrolled Hughen’s perimeter, those lights on the coastline weren’t likely to be friendly.
Captain Dayorn was the first to climb into the rowboat. Six others took the oars, including her first officer, Plete. Apparently he was also her husband. I’d asked the captain whether the marriage had taken place before his appointment or after, but she’d just smirked.
I bade the crew on deck farewell. Then I climbed into the boat, fighting a surge of nervousness and clutching the comb deep in my pocket. I’d managed to hide it the entire journey, pondering Captain Dayorn’s strange warning until my brain hurt.
A silent crew lowered us to the waves. Then we were off.
Besides the tiny lights, the distant coast seemed quiet and unthreatening from here. I wasn’t sure whether it offered me a gentle welcome or lured its prey into the open jaws of danger.
Captain Dayorn sat tall, her posture nearly perfect as the six crew members threw themselves into the oars. They watched me with blatant interest as they worked. I wasn’t sure how much they knew. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure how much Captain Dayorn knew, or even cared. She didn’t seem concerned with northern politics. If I told her outright that I was in love with a Hughen prince, the woman would likely roll her eyes and change the subject.
I cleared my throat and turned to the first officer, who rowed across from me. “How long have you served the captain?”
“Twelve years,” Plete said, not sounding winded at all. “And your next question—we’ve been married for ten. Known each other since childhood. I followed her to the navy when we were nine years old. Knew if I didn’t, she’d see m
e for the gangly, sea-fearing lad I really was.”
I gave the man a sideways look. “Does it bother you, serving under your wife?”
He threw back his head and laughed. It was so Paval-like that my lungs constricted. “Northerners. Doesn’t matter what a person is if they can do the work. Believe me, Captain Dayorn is as good a commander as any that’s sailed the world.” He threw his wife a fond look.
She didn’t speak, though her lips turned upward a bit. Then she squinted toward shore. “There are a lot of them tonight. At least forty on the coast alone.”
“Definitely not Hughen, then,” Plete muttered. “They don’t have those kinds of numbers.”
The captain shook her head. “Not all of them are Messaun. See how some of the lights are more orange than white? Those are true flame. Ellegrans refuse to use gaslight.”
Why would Ellegrans be patrolling with Messauns? I swallowed, feeling sick. I could do without the reminders of what awaited.
It began to rain. Not the light, comfortable kind, but the sudden type that pelted the skin. One second it was still, the next it poured.
“We’ll never sneak you to shore without being seen,” the captain said, seemingly unaffected. “When I give the order, you will slip into the waves and swim toward the north shore. I will hold their attention as long as I can.”
“I appreciate it.” I paused. “Before I go… You mentioned an old debt once. What was that for?”
The smile in her eyes disappeared. “Your father was a good man. He got me out of a difficult situation once. It’s a pleasure to do the same for his daughter. Not that I’m passing up the reward money, mind you. The crew still need to be paid.”
I grinned. “Of course.”
The captain dug under the bench and pulled out some cloth. “It’s almost time. Place your boots in this bag and pull them along behind you. You’ll need them ashore.” She paused. “Are you certain you want to do… whatever it is you plan to do here? It isn’t too late to accept my offer. The Council back home would be thrilled to meet you.”
