I pull in a breath and try to get my head on straight. “Adaptable is my middle name,” I say faintly.
It’s not until I exit his cabin and feel the fresh sea air on my face that I realize what he said. We’re making port. That means a town. That means I’ll have a chance to escape. I thought it might take weeks before an opportunity arose, but apparently some god somewhere is looking at me with a kind eye. Finally.
The possibility of getting out of Threshold is almost enough to bury the fact that I very much wanted Bowen to kiss me back there. And if he had, I would have been incredibly tempted to put that desk to good use. It’s more than a little depressing to realize how deep my recklessness goes, but at least something good has come out of it.
Port. Escape. That’s all I need to focus on.
Even as I consider this turn of luck, the wind picks up until my hair whips around me, nearly harsh enough to draw blood. I shiver. I know better than to tempt fate, even if Bunny firmly believed that fate was hardly fickle enough to be altered by silly thoughts of a single person. Bunny knew a lot, and she went through some serious shit in her life, but I’ve always believed that fate is exactly as fickle and malicious as any other entity.
I have a feeling I’m going to be proven right yet again. The thick storm clouds gathering in the sky certainly seem to think so. I’ve lived through plenty of storms, but I’ve never experienced what appears to be a hurricane while standing on the deck of a boat. It feels like being a thimble in a bathtub. Even with magic, can we survive the violence currently riding the waves and air?
“It’s not a good idea to be out here, at least until you find your sea legs properly.”
I turn to find a short old crone standing a few feet away. She has medium-brown skin creased with the laugh lines of a life well lived, and the hair that’s mostly pulled back into a tight bun is nearly white. Even though the deck shifts sickeningly beneath my feet, I bow to her a little. If there’s one rule I live by, it’s to respect my elders. “I was just on my way to my room. It wasn’t this bad when I started dinner.”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t take much to get Llyr’s panties in a bunch. The weather when we’re at sea is changeable and sudden. You’ll get used to it.”
It takes several seconds for her words to penetrate. Llyr, as in the Welsh god of the sea. I give her a long look, but it’s impossible to tell if she’s merely making a metaphorical reference, or if she means that the literal god of the sea gets his panties in a bunch. With the elders I’ve interacted with over the course of my life, it really could go either way. When you’ve lived long enough, not even literal gods are impressive.
“I’m sure I will.” I might have a relatively antagonistic relationship already with several members of the crew, but this woman has a soothing vibe that I find myself reluctant to leave behind. Or maybe there’s something about the stranger that reminds me of my grandmother.
She pulls out what appears to be a hand-rolled cigarette. “I’m the navigator. Have been for decades. I was brought on under the last captain, Ezra.” She produces a flame from somewhere and lights the end of her cigarette. It’s only when she exhales a cloud of smoke that I realize it’s not tobacco she’s smoking.
I grin. “Care to share, Grandmother?”
She lets loose the cackle that would do any witch proud. “Girl, I like you, but I’m no one’s grandmother. You can call me Dia.” She passes over the joint and watches with interest as I take a long inhale. “It will get easier. I know that sounds like a trite statement, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t happy when Ezra gave me the choice, either. I tried to kill him a dozen times before it sank in that there was no escape.” She accepts the joint back. A few puffs and she blows an honest-to-gods smoke ring. “The C?n Annwn are not to be crossed. It took me a while to figure that out, but I’m a slow learner. Doesn’t mean you have to be. This ship is a family, if sometimes a dysfunctional one. You could be happy here if you give it enough time.”
She’s being genuine, so I don’t tell her that I have no intention of sticking around long enough to be embraced by this so-called family. It’s nothing personal.
I accept the joint back and take one more long drag, letting it burn all the way down my throat. “The old captain didn’t have a problem with you trying to kill him?” I can’t imagine getting the drop on Bowen. His damned telekinetic power gives him an instant advantage. My spells are faster than those of most witches, but he doesn’t need more than a thought to attack or defend.
She lets loose another of those amazing cackles. “To him, it was practically foreplay.” She grins, her eyes nearly disappearing in the deep wrinkles of her face. “It turns out, it was practically foreplay for me, too. Ezra and I had a lot of fun in our day.”
There’s not much else to say to that. I stand next to her and smoke for a few more minutes, watching the sky grow darker and more violent. It’s getting challenging to keep my feet. Especially with the weed in my system, making my head fuzzy. “You sure we’re not going to sink?”
“Nah. This is barely a fizzle. It will be fun.” She presses a hand to the center of my back and guides me to the door leading down to the cabins. “Get some sleep, girl. There will be plenty of work for you in the morning.”
CHAPTER 9
Bowen
AFTER THE DINNER WITH EVELYN, IT’S A RELIEF TO FOCUS on work. No new correspondence has come in via the message system enchanted into my desk, so our plan to take refuge in Yaltia during the storm will work just fine. With that plan solidified, I head out onto the deck.
We’ve only caught the edges of the storm Dia saw, but it’s a nasty one. I take the helm as the crew follows my shouted orders. I don’t love storms for the danger they present, but I can’t deny that there’s a peace in moments like these. I’m here, pitting myself against nature herself. There is no past, no future. There’s only this moment of trying to stay alive.
As always, it’s over far too soon.
Miles appears at my side, his scales glistening in the rain. His tongue flicks out. “The island has been sighted. We’re almost there.”
Sarah is up in the crow’s nest as usual, relaying what she sees to Miles by way of her magic, using the wind to transfer her words as if she were standing right next to him. There was a time when she spoke to me directly, but she’s firmly among Miles’s supporters, and now prefers to relay her directions via the quartermaster. A small rebellion, but a marked trend in how some of the crew treat me.