And despite the crew’s surly appearances and hard gazes, Burlz and his skinny sidekick, whom Niya had learned was called Prik, were the only ones to really give her a hard go of it as the days progressed. She caught them on more than one occasion dirtying the iron shafts she had recently cleaned with muck and sand. But Niya kept steady, despite the duo’s daily attempts to incite her.
As Niya scrubbed her assigned cannons clean once more, sweat dripping down her neck under the endless daily blaze of the sun, Arabessa’s words flowed strongly around her. You cannot always act on your every whim and feeling. Maybe then you will stop finding yourself in these situations. Even her father’s comment about her mother helped steady her. You know, your mother was also known to run hot on occasion. If Johanna had found ways to calm her emotions, so could Niya. This time, she truly decided to listen to the advice of her family. After all, the long game of revenge was something Niya was practiced in, and for what she wished to do to Burlz and his puppet, Prik, she would need a better reason than a bit of delinquent antics from the men to grant it.
As the sun and moon practiced their endless chase of morning and night, the open waters remaining empty of land or ship, Niya’s muscles began to hurt in places she had not thought possible. Even her scalp ached, but it was a soreness that meant her body was moving, her magic pumping strongly through her veins. She’d take that any day over being forced still. Even the pranks the artillery team played on her, oiling the cannonballs so they would slip through her fingers, spoke of them beginning to warm to her.
“There’s always a bit of hazing when guppies come aboard,” Therza had said, slapping Niya good-naturedly on the back after she’d retrieved her dropped ball. Niya had gritted her teeth and smiled through the cackles, continuing her tasks. Though she was currently still the butt of their jokes, she was at least a part of them. Niya knew from growing up around scoundrels and thieves that they acted like wolves in a pack. To be ignored by her team would be a far worse fate.
Before she knew it, a week had passed.
As Niya stood from her task of wiping down the cannonballs to stretch her back, a sobering realization hit her: she hadn’t thought of her family or the curse of her binding bet in quite some time.
Frowning, Niya looked out to the open water from where she stood at port side. The sea shimmered a deep blue as the sun reflected like white diamonds off small waves, today’s constant breeze the sweetest poultice against her sweating skin.
It appeared being busy had kept her mind from dropping into melancholy regarding her fate, regarding where exactly she was, on Alōs’s ship, as part of his crew . . . for a year.
“Good job, Red,” said Saffi as she strode past, assessing the gleaming stack of cannons before Niya. Therza’s nickname seemed to have spread, and Niya hated that it was growing on her as well. It made her feel . . . a part of something.
But I’m already a part of something, she silently argued as she snatched up her rag, resuming shining the already-shined balls. My family, the Mousai. I don’t need anyone else, especially not anyone on this ship.
For to enjoy any part of her daily life on the Crying Queen or with these pirates felt like becoming a traitor to her pride, to all she had worked and suffered in her attempts at getting out from Alōs’s grip.
With a tired sigh, Niya put her thoughts toward her home once more. She wondered what her sisters were up to right now. Were they together in Jabari or frolicking in the Thief Kingdom?
With a sudden suffocating grip, there it was again, the wave of sorrow at her current fate, followed by a painful bout of jealousy.
Damn it, she silently cursed. This is exactly why I must stay busy.
Sulking was useless.
There was enough on board to occupy her mind, and more than enough to complain about.
To start, the food here was disastrous. With no place to keep things cold or frozen on a ship, everything was dried, salted, smoked, or pickled. Every meal was a pruned, shriveled mess. Niya knew there were chickens aboard, for she could hear and smell them in the galley, but it seemed eggs were saved for the precious captain. The cook, Mika, merely laughed when Niya suggested slaughtering a few birds for the crew.
“We’ve been at sea for almost a fortnight, Red,” Mika said while waving around his knife. “So unless we raid a ship carrying crates of these feathered rats, the ones left aboard wouldn’t satisfy half a pirate here.”
Niya would later learn that this pear-shaped, gap-toothed man was also the Crying Queen’s surgeon.
She prayed to the lost gods she would not find herself in serious need of his aid.
Niya’s other major complaint had to do with her new sleeping arrangements. No longer in her private compartment, she had been shown to the crew’s quarters two floors below deck. This was when she wondered if being a prisoner was perhaps a better status. Hammocks were stacked three tall and too many rows deep. Niya was forced to be sandwiched between men and women, subjected to their snoring, flatulence, and other distasteful sounds and smells. She couldn’t even bring herself to think long on the toilets. Basically, holes cut at the water level at the bow of the ship, allowing waves crashing in to be the only form of cleaning the vents. The smells alone were suffocating.
At least her two bunkmates seemed decent. Above her slept Bree, the tiny girl with wide eyes and a short blonde crop whom she had met the first days aboard the Crying Queen.
Bree was just as curious and animated as then, and so small that when she lay in her hammock, she barely created a dent in the sheet. Her size was a benefit, Bree had explained, for she was a sheet trimmer.
“It’s my job to help get the ship back up to speed after tacking and keeping the spinnaker flying during jibes.”
Niya had merely nodded up at the girl from her hammock, having not a clue what Bree had uttered.
“Which means she’s gotta be a little monkey and be quick in climbing all over the place,” Niya’s lower bunkmate, Green Pea, had popped his head out to explain. Though he was nothing like the vegetable, Niya had learned Green Pea had gotten his name because he had been the newest edition to the crew before Niya had come aboard. “As green and pea brained as a newborn,” Therza had explained. He was part of the pit crew and had told Niya her first night sleeping above him many of his duties, though Niya had stopped listening as soon as he’d mentioned dropping the spinnaker.
Now, as she lay in her swaying hammock below deck, Niya’s body exhausted from her recent day’s work, Green Pea’s small, mewling snores floated up from under her.
“He falls asleep as soon as he lies down,” said Bree, from where she was peering down at Niya from the edge of her hammock.
“Whereas you turn over to prattle questions at me as soon as I do,” countered Niya, closing her eyes. If I close my eyes, perhaps this time she’ll get the hint and just go to bed.
“I know you can play with fire,” said Bree, “but is that all your magic can do?”
Niya opened one eye to stare up at the girl. “If I tell you all I can do, you’ll have nightmares for the rest of your days. Now go to sleep before it’s too late.”
“Truly?” breathed Bree. “Can you do as much as the captain?”
This had Niya snapping both eyes open. “I guess you’d have to tell me what the captain can do for me to agree or not.”
“Oh, he can do practically anything.”
I doubt that, thought Niya sardonically.
“Name one,” she goaded. She already knew Alōs’s magic was strong, but to learn anything new about the pirate captain was too good a chance to give up. Secrets. Everyone has secrets.
Perhaps this could be the advantage Niya needed, something to finally be able to best the soulless bastard.
Niya watched Bree glance around the compartment before leaning closer to Niya and whispering, “He can walk on water.”
Niya raised her brows, unable to hide her genuine shock. “Walk on water?”
Bree nodded.
“I don’t believe it,” said Niya, settling back into her hammock.
“Well, I didn’t believe someone could hold fire in their hand and not get burned until I saw you do it,” explained Bree.
Niya frowned. Not enjoying that Bree had a point.
But still . . . walk on water?