Veritas

by St Clare, Kelly

  Stubby said, “I always thought ye were just a cocky bugger, but I’m wonderin’ if that be part o’ bein’ a selkie.”

  “I am a selkie—”

  “Nay, ye’re only part. Ye can’t shift into a seal. I ain’t even sure ye’re immortal. I’ve seen ye bleed just as surely as any mortal. And ye age like the rest o’ us.”

  Ebba guessed only the leader of the selkies could fill in those blanks. Or maybe this . . . healed version of Grubby knew.

  Grubby raised his voice. “The sooner I get to Kentro and fulfil my purpose, the better. You have no idea what it has been like to be in this buffoon’s head. He has absolutely no sexual prowess. It’s embarrassing.”

  Ebba had to give him that one. Grubby got all kinds of tongue-tied around women.

  Peg-leg tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around once more, relieved to find Mr. Grubby dressed.

  He slicked his hair back.

  . . . This would take some getting used to.

  “Did you discover something overboard?” Caspian asked.

  Grubby swept him a low bow. “King Caspian, a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.”

  “Uh,” the prince dipped his head. “Yes, you too . . . Grubby.”

  The selkie scowled. “Gustafio, Your Highness.”

  “I think I had that once,” Peg-leg muttered, peering down his body. Her other fathers snickered quietly.

  “Your findings . . . Gustafio?” Caspian tried again.

  Mr. Grubby studied his nails, which were shaped and clean.

  “I just spoke with my octopi slaves. They have not seen an object of similar shape and color to those we possess,” he said.

  Locks sucked in a breath. “What about Verity? Did they say anythin’ about her? And the others.”

  “Yes, what about those we left at Zol?” Barrels asked, stepping closer.

  Mr. Grubby shrugged. “They’re alive.”

  “Alive,” Locks replied, screwing his face up. “But how is she? What else did they say?”

  “Didn’t think to ask.”

  Her father’s face reddened and slowly turned purple. Stubby and Plank each latched onto one of Locks’ arms as he lunged at the selkie. A fair enough reaction when the octopi were their only means of communication with Zol and they had to wait weeks between messages.

  Grubby brushed off a tiny speck on the cuff of his tunic. “After I threatened their young, they warned me that if we continue in this direction, we will soon come across Calypso.”

  “Calypso?” Jagger asked him.

  Mr. Grubby returned to inspecting his nails.

  She wasn’t the only one who turned to Plank.

  Plank released Locks, face paling. “We need to bring Felicity about and go around. Right now.”

  “Good luck with that,” Mr. Grubby muttered.

  “What’s that s’posed to mean?” Stubby demanded.

  The selkie shrugged again. “You have maybe one minute until you arrive there.”

  “Why didn’t ye tell us that first?” Plank asked angrily. “Okay, short version. Calypso is kind o’ like the siren—”

  Ebba froze.

  “—but she ain’t set on revenge. She’s just . . . lustful.”

  Lustful. Rotten innards of a whale. That’s exactly what she never wanted to see—her fathers’ butts. “All o’ ye in the hold,” she ordered. “Right now. In the hold. Tie yerself down. I’ll take the helm and come get ye when we’ve passed by.”

  “Ye heard her, lads,” Stubby said.

  They made for the bilge door. Only Peg-leg turned back. “Will ye be okay?”

  There wasn’t time to think about that. Just like in Syraness, Ebba had to step up to protect her fathers because she was female, and that lent her resistance to some magical creatures. Who said women were bad luck on ships? To her thinking, it was the other way about.

  “Aye, Peg-leg. Don’t ye worry. I’ll get us through.”

  “I have no doubt o’ that.” He shut the door, and Ebba stared about the empty deck. Or mostly empty.

  “What are ye doin?” she asked Grubby.

  He smiled at her. Mostly without sneering. “I will keep my mind around Calypso. Never mind me, mortal.”

  “Well, ye sure didn’t keep yer mind around the siren.”

  “That was when the buffoon was in control.”

  Ebba placed her hands on her hips. “Grubby ain’t a buffoon. We love him. And if ye want us to love ye, too, ye better talk about him right.” The irony that she was scolding Grubby not to be nasty to himself wasn’t lost on her.

  Not waiting for an answer, she strode to the bow to look ahead.

  A small outcrop of black rocks lay far off to the left. She ran back to the helm and spun the wheel to direct them farther away. On their current course, they would’ve missed the outcrop anyway, but Ebba wasn’t willing to take any risks.

  Grubby left her to stand at the bow, and Ebba set her thoughts to watching the rocky outcrop.

  The outcrop wasn’t anything unusual—aside from the fact it was out at deep sea. Even though they kept a person in the crow’s nest to watch for such things, if their direction had been slightly different, Felicity might’ve run up against the dark rocks. As it was, even with the sun beating high above, only a weak shine penetrated the thick cloud plumes. The shine was just enough to lend the black rocks a subtle glow.

  Or. . . .

  Ebba squinted, hands tight on the wheel.

  . . . Or was it the rocks themselves that glowed?

  They couldn’t be usual stones because they appeared almost soft. Like Ebba could lie down upon them and caulk as comfortably as she did in her hammock.

  That couldn’t be right.

  Ebba peered ahead to check on Grubby at the bow. He was smoothing back his hair. Again.

  “All clear ahead?” she called.

  He waved a hand, which she chose to interpret as yes. Ebba let her gaze slide back to the glowing rocks. Just to check if they still glowed.

  For some reason, that troubled her greatly.

  She gasped. “Grubs, there be a person on the rocks.”

  Ebba shook her head again. Of course there was a person on the rocks. That was the whole point of her navigating Felicity while her fathers held tight in the hold. She held onto the wheel with one hand and grabbed the telescope from the small square trunk latched behind the wheel.

  Extending it, she turned to peer at the woman.

  Except. . . . Ebba adjusted the telescope.

  Eight ridged abs drew her gaze as surely as a lighthouse beacon in the middle of the night. A wide chest tapered into material slung about Calypso’s hips. The strip of material wasn’t enough to contain the person’s muscled thighs. Ebba ran her eyes all the way down the naked limbs and back up past the eight abs, past the bulging pecs and biceps, up to a square jaw and sculpted lips.

  She gasped, a bolt of heat spearing the area between her hips as she took in Calypso’s piercing green eyes . . . and their expression. . . .

  A dare.

  A challenge.

  A promise.

  Ebba licked her suddenly dry lips.

  Calypso was a man.

  Six

  Ebba pulled hard on the wheel, directing the ship toward the soft glowing bed, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life beckoning her with a sultry smile.

  “Where are you going, mortal?” someone asked her.

  “Shh, I’m going to get the man,” she answered in a whisper. If the person spoke too loudly, they’d scare him off. And Ebba wanted to touch the beautiful man.

  “Excuse me? Oh, oh, Calypso is a man. My slaves didn’t mention that tidbit. I’ll have them punished. May I ask why you want to ‘get the man’?”

  Ebba couldn’t shift her eyes from the specimen before her. Even his name, Calypso, made her want to faint in a gasping heap. Her knees were weak, her heart aflutter; her mind was filled with joyful white, and all because of him.

  Because of Calyp
so. She loved him.

  “Because I’m goin’ to kiss his mouth,” Ebba announced.

  Grubby rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing tight. “Nothing, and I mean nothing would make me prouder. I know we’re not blood, but some of the buffoon’s love for you has seeped into me. Selkie don’t tend to hang around for the child part. But I’m glad I accidentally have.”

  “I’m goin’ to take off his clothes,” she added.

  “You are truly my daughter,” he announced. “I can’t wait to tell my kin about your prowess. Hop to it, young cub. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

  Ebba let go of the wheel and walked to the bulwark. If her body’s capabilities had reflected her heart and soul, she might’ve floated over.

  Her lover came to greet her, and Ebba smiled shyly. She tucked a dread behind her ear, climbing up onto the bulwark. She’d never been so nervous nor so full of anticipation in her life. Yet somehow, inexplicably, Ebba knew Calypso felt the same. He would do anything for her. Go any distance. Fight off any foe.

  “Ahoy,” Ebba said quietly when he floated above the water directly in front of her.

  He opened both arms. “I have waited an eon for you, lover.”

  She didn’t know what an eon was, but if he’d waited, so had she.

  “Jump, my dark queen.”

  As though lightly tugged by his warm, all-encompassing voice, her head tipped back. Bliss washed over her like a sweet breeze. She leaned out, smiling at him. And leaped into his strong arms.

  She stared at the man, unwilling to blink for fear she’d miss one moment of seeing his face. Tentatively, Ebba reached a hand up to his jaw as, in a dream, they arrived at the rock bed, and he set her on her feet.

  “Your name, lover?” he whispered in her ear.

  She mouthed the answer, and he laughed at her fumbled attempt. Blushing, Ebba tried again. “Ebba-Viva Fairisles.”

  “You are an exotic beauty, my queen.” He nodded, and she did feel like a queen. Which was odd because prior to meeting her soulmate, the title of princess had never sat right.

  But everything was different now.

  She ran her hands up his forearms, marveling at the strength contained within them. She gasped as Calypso wrenched her flush against him. He caught her chin, and her gaze flew to his as he studied her, pursing his lips. She did the same as he lowered his head.

  So close.

  The torment.

  Ebba could live a thousand lives and never feel such torment.

  Their lips touched, and Ebba groaned low in the back of her throat at the exquisite silky feel of his mouth, his body. She clutched at the sides of his abdomen, yanking him closer. But it wasn’t enough. He was too tall or she was too short. But she was a rigger.

  Ebba climbed up her lover’s body, wrapping her legs around his torso. His hands cupped her upper thighs, holding her still.

  She was exactly where she wanted to be.

  Ebba set to kissing him. She pressed her lips against his, mouth moving, hands roaming. Bliss. Even when her lips began to feel raw, Ebba wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Calypso pulled back, glancing away from her, and Ebba cried low at the loss of him.

  “More,” she demanded.

  He dragged his gaze back to her and lowered her to stand on the bed. Tears hovered at the corners of her eyes until she understood he didn’t want her to leave. His hands went to her black jerkin, and he didn’t glance away as he undid the laces.

  Heat crept up to her cheeks, down to her fingertips, filling her with burning want.

  “Are you okay, lover?” he asked, pushing off her jerkin.

  His hands went to her belt, and he pulled the leather free, pushing her slops down. Ebba kicked them away, legs bare beneath her tunic, which fell to mid-thigh. But enough was enough. Her hands went to the knot holding the material in place around his hips.

  And she plucked it free.

  The material fell away, and Ebba dropped her gaze, bashfulness long forgotten.

  “Ye’re beautiful,” she said, glancing back up to his piercing green eyes.

  He inched his hands toward the bottom hem of her tunic.

  —A barrel careened into him.

  Ebba screamed as Calypso was thrown into the ocean. He disappeared from view, and she fell to her knees on the soft bed to search for him in the water.

  Hands were about her waist.

  The wrong hands. Not his hands.

  An iron grip held her, yanking her upward. She yelled her fury, legs kicking out as she tried to free herself from the person dragging her from the other half of her soul.

  “Calypso!” she screamed.

  Ugly men were forming a wall between her and her immortal lover. They were taking her from him. They were going to hurt him.

  They’d only just found each other.

  Her heart seized as she spotted her one and only hoisting himself back onto their soft bed.

  “Don’t harm him,” she sobbed at the person behind her. “I’ll do anythin’. Don’t harm him.”

  “I did not sign up for this,” the person pulling her off the rocks into a rowboat muttered.

  Irritation spiked within her, and she twisted to glance into hideous silver eyes. “Aye, well, no one invited ye, ye lipless stingray.”

  The wall of ugly men was dispersing, and through their fragmented barrier, Ebba spotted her lover again.

  “Calypso!” She stretched a hand in his direction.

  Hideous silver eyes dumped her in the back of the boat, and Ebba scrambled to pitch herself over the side to swim back to the soft bed. Her efforts were thwarted by a russet-haired demon.

  “Demon!” she shouted, kicking at the one-armed monstrosity.

  The one behind her snorted.

  The demon scowled at the other man and schooled his expression just as a manipulative demon might. “Ebba-Viva, it’s me. Caspian.”

  “I don’t know a Caspian,” she said. “I only know Calypso. My lover.”

  The demon’s gaze dropped to her bare legs, and Ebba scowled at him, yanking her tunic down to her knees. The demon startled and averted his eyes, a ruddy red filling his cheeks.

  “Stay away from me,” she warned him.

  “Aye, demon,” the one behind her said. “Stay away.”

  “You were the one with your hands all over her.”

  “Savin’ her from danger.”

  “And enjoying it in the doing,” the demon half-shouted, fist clenched.

  “Aye, well, ye can’t blame a pirate for that.”

  The boat rocked, and Ebba inched to the edge. The one behind her planted a boot on the bench, halting her second escape attempt.

  “Hideous silver eyes,” she hissed at him.

  It was the demon’s turn to laugh. “She doesn’t like you either.”

  Hideous hummed low. “She only likes one man at the moment.”

  “Ha!” Ebba threw back her head. “My lover be no mere man. He be immortal. Perfection.”

  The two ugly people stared back at her in silence.

  “I can’t wait to replay this to ye later,” Silver said. “The crow’s nest is mine for good.”

  The demon’s gaze was on her legs again, but sorrow filled his expression. “Look what he did to her legs.”

  Huh? Ebba glanced down and couldn’t see anything the matter, just smooth dark-brown skin. She gripped the side of the vessel as the wall of ugly men clambered into the boat, surrounding her. Her heart leaped into her throat as she turned back only to find her lover was gone.

  She launched to her feet, making everyone shout and reach for the boat’s side.

  “What did ye do to Calypso?” she shrieked, shoving the nearest one, a man with a wooden peg. “Where is my lover?”

  “I hoped to never hear that word on my daughter’s lips,” he said, shuddering.

  “Where is he?” she screamed so loudly her throat tore. Tears poured down her face as she glanced back at the empty bed. Their empty bed.

>   A man with peppered hair sighed. “Back to the ship. We’ll see what is to be done once we’re farther from his pull.”

  Ebba tried again to launch herself over the side into the water, and both the demon and hideous silver eyes joined efforts to stop her. She sobbed against their shoulders, sagging as exhaustion hit, sapping her energy. She didn’t want to touch them, but her limbs were heavy with despair.

  “Please take me back,” she begged them. “I’ve got to go back. I have to.”

  A large hand stroked her back.

  “Ye’ll be just fine, Viva.”

  “Nay,” she replied. Or tried to. The word was lost in the violent tremble of her voice.

  She wouldn’t be fine.

  Seven

  Ebba sat between the trunks that held her belongings, wrapped in a blanket, hammock overhead. She stared at her legs as her shocked mind attempted to deny the truth of what had happened. It wasn’t working. Which meant that everything with Calypso had been real.

  Her legs were a mess from where the rocks shredded her skin. Her feet were the worst. She hadn’t even felt the deep scratches at the time. She’d thought they’d stood on a soft bed, not jagged stone. The rivulet cuts ran all the way from her ankles nearly to her hips.

  Ebba flushed as she remembered Calypso had removed her clothes, leaving her only in her tunic.

  Her hands began to shake. “It did happen.”

  She’d been. . . . He’d. . . . Somehow, she’d lost her mind. Utterly and completely. Just as her fathers had with the siren.

  “Ebba-Viva?”

  She jumped and glanced up at Plank through the latticed rope of her hammock.

  “Oh, little nymph,” he sighed.

  She leaned back, staring at the stick in Plank’s hand. “What’s that?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Is that a short straw?” she accused.

  Plank hurried to hide the small stick. “Nay, lass. Just some rubbish layin’ about.”

  That was a pirate truth.

  He held out his other hand, offering her a goblet. “Here. Locks whipped ye up a little sumpin’ to help ye sleep.”

  That was what she wanted—to slip away into sleep for a while. But each time Ebba closed her eyes, she remembered what had happened. Still shaking, she took the goblet and emptied the contents in two gulps before handing the goblet back to her father.