Storms and hail. A raving prisoner is exactly what I need to make this morning complete.
“I’ll talk to him,” I say, sliding my feet onto the deck and digging out a tunic.
“Good fortune with that.” Kederic holds out a piece of paper. “I did manage to thrust a pen into his hand. Does this mean anything?”
The boy has a good head on him. I open the paper and look at the sloppy Tirik hand.
“Today feels very wrong,” I read aloud. My mouth is dry. “The weather event is imminent. I’ve no insight into its nature. Take care with your ship. I wish to live.”
I lower the paper and sigh as Kederic slumps against the bulkhead.
“We need to brief the…” He trails off, looking at me in question. Brief the first officer would be the correct ending to the phrase. But it will be difficult enough convincing one, much less two levels of approvals to listen to a vague warning from a prisoner we weren’t supposed to have contact with in the first place. Plus, Rima’s ass-preserving mantra might suit us better than Domenic’s regulations and logic just now.
“We need to brief the captain.” I sigh, and the middie nods with as little enthusiasm as I feel.
It is midmorning before Captain Rima grants us an audience. Domenic stands by Rima’s desk, looking at me with hard eyes. He may not know what Kederic intends to say, but my meetings with Captain Rima have not ended well yet. Catsper, as usual, lounges by the door.
“Mr. Kederic.” Rima’s smile does not touch his eyes. “Why do I have the pleasure of your company this morning?”
Chapter 30
Kederic places his hands behind his back. “The Tirik prisoner passed a message this morning that may warrant your attention, sir,” the middie says crisply. He hands Price’s note to Rima, along with a written translation he made beneath it.
Rima scans the paper and passes it to Domenic. “This, Mr. Dana, is exactly why I issued instructions to keep the Tirik manipulator from our crew. Was I speaking for the pleasure of hearing my own voice?”
“Sir.” Kederic’s tone is admirably firm. “I have made inquiries of the Gifted as to weather prognosis over the past week, and he has proved himself correct even when his predictions contradicted my beliefs.”
“Mr. Kederic.” Rima’s voice is overly patient. “Most seamen who’ve spent time aboard a ship develop a sense of the coming weather. It is called good seamanship, and it is this seamanship, not some obscure Gifted skills, that keeps our fleets functioning. I would advise you to refrain from advertising your own deficiencies in said craft to your commanding officers in the future. Mmm?”
Kederic blushes. I can’t even blame Rima’s argument, except that the wind remains elusive and spoiled. Not that I can inject that into the conversation.
What I can inject is a jab into Rima’s risk aversion. Which is half the reason we came straight to him in the first place.
“Sir,” I say with all the deference I can conjure, “the Inuk Bay is close to our course and is well protected from the open sea. If we pull the ship into safe harbor and Price is wrong, we lose a day. If he is right, we save the Aurora.”
Rima’s face darkens as he turns in his chair to face me. “I do not recall addressing you. And I expect Mr. Dana will discuss the matter of etiquette with you at a later time.”
Even without shifting my gaze, I know Domenic is already planning that particular exercise. And I don’t care. I trust Price’s weather sense, just as I trust Clay’s repetition of heard words. I’ve seen as many ships lost to storms as to guns. My dead brother’s frigate among them. As poorly handled as the Aurora is, I cringe to think what would happen to a thirsty and ill-mannered crew in the midst of an open-water typhoon.
“Aye, sir,” I say with a bow. “But please consider how little a small deviation in course would cost us.”
“How little it would cost us?” Rima pauses to draw a calming breath through flaring nostrils. “I make no habit of explaining myself to sailors, much less to scared little girls playing at seamen. However, for the sake of correcting rumors that you appear to thrive on feeding, I will. Once.” He pauses long enough for me to bow at his graciousness. “There is no fresh water to be had until the Crystal Oasis deep within the Siaman Sea. Each hour of delay puts this crew through suffering and this ship through danger. We must conserve resources, for we may yet be becalmed. We are also a League man-of-war, which means we are not in the Siaman for the pleasure of the cruise. There are ships waiting on us and a schedule we must keep.”
Ships waiting for us. My hope drains. Not ships, ship. I will wager my arm that Rima has a rendezvous with his private merchant, Hope, lined up. He’s sailed us through weather to make such an appointment before—he will not allow a delay now.
“This is the foolishness that rises from idle hands, Mr. Dana,” Rima continues, pointing at Domenic. “A gainfully employed crew does not have time to fret about nightmare storms and scheme up means to avoid work.” Rima turns back to Kederic. “This foolishness is understandable in a girl, but I expect a higher standard from you, Mr. Kederic.”
Kederic looks down.
“Mr. Catsper,” says Domenic, still glaring at me. “Place a marine guard outside the prisoner’s quarters to discourage further social engagements with the crew.”
“Aye, sir,” Catsper replies with his usual nonchalance, as if the first officer requested he pass the salt.
Failure weighs on my shoulders as Rima tosses us from his cabin. We’d had a chance. I’d still wager that if not for whatever absurdly punctual arrangement Rima must have with his customer, we’d have talked the man into a diversion. Apparently, there is no potion for bravery as effective as gold.
Following Kederic into the passageway, I’m little surprised when Domenic’s hand clamps around my arm the moment we’re clear of the cabin. “Gunroom,” he growls, and I’ve little choice but to follow, my stomach heavy with the potent mix of disappointment and dread.
For once, Domenic has every right to be furious with me. I’ve disregarded both the captain’s and his own orders to stay clear of Price. I’d spoken out of turn. And, most to the point, I went around Domenic on purpose.
“Sit.” Domenic points to a chair behind the long wooden table.
I do. And I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
Domenic stalks across the room. We are alone here. At the moment, I’m uncertain whether this state of affairs will work in my favor.
Stifling a sigh, I look up, meeting his eyes. All right, Domenic. Let’s get this over with.
“Why did you not come to me?” he demands.
“Because you’d never have taken it to Rima.”
“You are right. You know why?” He stops across from me and leans his palms on the table. “Because you do not go telling the captain of a man-of-war that his Tirik prisoner, who has been busy foretelling the future to pass the time, is currently predicting imminent horrid weather despite calm seas and clear skies. It is useless, and it is disrespectful.”
“I believe Price.” I lean toward him. “And if I recall, you believe him enough to think that the middies’ weather foresight lay with the Gifted.”
“And is the boy predicting a storm on the Siaman Sea or a volcano erupting in the middle of the Tirik Republic? Does his immense event have a time to go with it? Or shall we sail in circles until he feels better?”
“It is a calculated risk,” I acknowledge without backing down. “Delaying our travel for a day or two would strain the ship and our schedule. But the costs of doing nothing may be greater still.”
“You are right.” His voice is as cold as his eyes. “It is a calculated risk. And our ship has a captain who makes that calculation. As does every other ship in every navy. Including Ashing. You may dislike how this business is managed, you may hate me, and you may think the captain a tyrant or an unjust lord. Goddess knows there are sailors on all ships that harbor unflattering thoughts of the quarterdeck. You may not disregard the command structure of thi
s ship.”
His words sting. I sit back in my chair. “I’m not disregarding this ship’s command.”
“No?” Domenic stays where he is. “Because I could have sworn I just saw you decide not only that the Aurora would do better if she ran under Nile Ash’s orders, but that she in fact should do so. And then massage the middies into a private cadre to help undermine the captain’s authority.”
“It isn’t like that,” I say, though I know it is. I might have started working with the middies with pure intentions, but then, instead of shoring up support for the Aurora’s command as would be proper, I allowed it to become a parliament unto itself. “I’m not growing mutineers.”
“Great! Allow me to commend you for not starting a mutiny aboard a Lyron League naval ship.” Domenic shakes his head. “Tell me, what would you have done on the Faithful to someone who, for any reason, dared display the kind of disrespect for Captain Fey that you little bother hiding for Rima?”
That hits the target. As, I’m certain, was Domenic’s intention. If someone did this to Captain Fey, I’d have the culprit in irons that day. I know I would. But I’m not saying that aloud. I’d too taken a calculated risk this morning, and while I regret the method I had to use, it was the best option I had to work with. I clench my hands together under the table, where Domenic would not see my sweating palms. “What will you do?”
“I should be strapping you to the grating,” he says, dropping into a seat across from me. “But as I believe your actions have been discreet enough that the crew is still ignorant of them, I’ll settle for putting you to scrubbing decks for an extra watch each day until the sun stops setting in the west.”
I let out a breath.
“But is that where we’ve come to, Nile?” he asks softly, covering his face with large palms. “You would rather risk ship’s discipline than trust me? Am I so incompetent in your eyes that you navigate around me like a bit of debris?”
“What?” My spine straightens with a jerk. “You are the most competent seaman on this ship. You should be captain.”
“I can’t be.” Domenic’s voice is even, but he isn’t quite fast enough to hide the flash of pain in his eyes.
In that one second, my gut twists. I’d little considered what it had cost Domenic to pull himself up from the lower deck by sheer sweat and work, all while knowing that he’d never compete with noble-born officers for a ship of his own. The immaculate uniform, the straight-backed stance, the unwavering professionalism, take new meaning. Domenic’s pride and competence are all he has.
And I’ve just trampled over both. Damn.
“Nile.” Domenic leans forward, speaking quietly. His eyes, intense and ocean blue, beg me to listen. “When Catsper was hurting you, I knew he’d cause no harm. But I couldn’t watch. I still can’t.” The last comes in a whisper, and he draws a breath before speaking. “You know what scares me? That one day you will do something in front of the crew, or fail to keep your mouth shut, or bloody forget where you are, and I will have no choice but to hurt you. Some days it’s all I can do to keep from ordering you belowdecks just to keep you safe from me.”
I meet his gaze, my heart refusing to do its job.
Silence swirls. On the table, our knuckles are but a foot apart. A very long, insurmountable foot.
Domenic shakes himself and stands. “I’m sorry.”
I follow so quickly, the chair falls behind me. “I—” I fumble.
Smoothly, Domenic steps around and rights my chair, his shoulder brushing against me as he does. I should step away, but I don’t. I don’t want to. When Domenic straightens, he is close to me. Very close. The warmth of his body seeps through his tunic and fills the space between us. His gaze is hungry and strong, and it cuts through to somewhere deep in my chest. For an instant, I am certain that with that gaze, Domenic sees straight into my soul, knows my every secret, every hope, every fear. I draw a sharp breath before realizing it.
“You should get back to your duties,” he says. When I hesitate, he moves to the door ahead of me and holds it open. “As should I.”
“Of course.” I’m in a daze as I leave the gunroom.
“Ash.” Domenic’s call twists me around. His voice is back to its usual precision. “I expect there shall be no need to have this conversation again.”
“Aye, sir.” I touch the hat I am not wearing and am gone.
Chapter 31
The middies are waiting for me. I know that. But I want my mind back. And bloody Domenic insists on dominating it without even being in the same berth. Domenic mad at me. Domenic worried. Domenic hurt. Domenic so damn close to me, I am certain that my heart bruised his skin. And to top it all off, the wind that’s always demanding to touch me now feels different. Slippery.
After an hour of trying a meditation exercise, I give up hope of reclaiming my equilibrium and go to the middie boys’ berth.
“Are you all right?” Kederic asks, offering me his seat. His voice and eyes are both concerned. “What did Dana do to you?”
I take a spot on the deck instead and draw up my knees. My head hurts, and nausea grips my throat. “Nothing.” All right, no one is daft enough to buy that. “Nothing of consequence, I mean. Read me the articles of conduct and assigned some deck scrubbing. What have you got?”
“I pulled rank on Catsper’s marines.” Kederic hands me another crumpled paper. Plainly, the morning’s chastising didn’t so much as make him stumble. Domenic is right about my influence on the middies.
Price’s handwriting stares at me. One scribbled word. “Tonight,” I read.
Sharp intakes of breath scatter through the room.
“What should we do?” asks Kederic.
I know I’m supposed to have the answer, but Domenic’s words haunt me. My thoughts can’t find their path.
“We’ve seen storms before,” Thatch Lawrence says, with little conviction. “We’ll strike sail and ride it out. Ships do sail through storms. And it cannot be that awful with no sign in the sky to foretell such foul winds. Maybe the Tirik simply wants to destroy our mission. The captain predicted he’d do as much.”
“Such a ploy would work only once,” says Ana. “If that was his intention, would it not be more logical to wait until a delay caused greater havoc than a lost day of travel?”
“I agree,” says Kederic. “More than that, I believe that heeding the Gifted’s warning is for the greater good of this ship. He has been right the past weeks, and this morning, his fear was convincing.”
“I little care about greater good,” says Ana, leaning her forearms against the middies’ makeshift table. She’s braided her hair today, two tight coils that wrap her head beautifully, and her thin voice is clear and strong. A mouse taking her stand before a cat. “I care about returning home alive. I’m in for whatever plan we come up with.”
Whatever plan we come up with has to involve diverting the Aurora’s course without Rima’s approval. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I know that without me, the little group of conspirators would not dare the maneuver. What I say next can end this scheme before it goes beyond excited dreaming.
Except no words come. Only a pounding headache.
Ana frowns. “Nile?”
I turn toward her, summoning the will to speak.
She beats me to it, taking my elbow before I can come up with words. “Give us a few minutes, gentlemen,” she says, smiling, and tows me out the door and into our berth. For a small girl, she is bloody strong when she wants to be. Strong and determined. Ana deposits me on her cot and clicks the lock into place. Her smile vanishes.
“Here.” She thrusts her canteen into my hands and crouches before me, her eyes level with mine. “The Savage hurt you, didn’t he?”
I refuse both her ration and speculation with a shake of my head. I don’t want to talk. I want to blot Domenic from my memory so he stops sabotaging my thoughts. “Nothing,” I say with conviction. “Domenic didn’t touch me, Ana. I swear.”
“Domen
ic?” Her eyes narrow, and she rocks back on her heels, studying me from under her lashes. Her glazed nails tap her forearm. Once. Twice. “And that, I gather, is the problem.”
I rub my face. “His name or his not touching me?”
“Both.” She sighs. “Of all the men in this world—of all the men even on this ship—you fall in love with the one who hurts you for sport.”
That jerks me to my feet quicker than burning coal. Ana isn’t helping things; she is complicating them with her own fantasies. “Domenic doesn’t hurt people for sport,” I say before I can help myself. “As for the other, he’s my commanding officer, Ana. The Admiralty would put us both in irons if we crossed that line. So, I couldn’t be in love with him even if, even if I was in love with him.” I frown at my own sentence. “Which I am not.”
“Of course not. His words just carry more meaning to you than those of regular mortals, and you can think of little beyond how close his hand hovered before never touching your shoulder.” She raises her brows. “Let us be blunt. When it comes to matters of the heart, you are about as competent as I am behind a gun battery.”
“This has nothing to do with my heart. It has to do with him being right.” I pace the few steps between the bulkheads. “Domenic reminded me that naval ships don’t run by consensus. The officers’ orders have to carry absolute weight. Even bad orders. Wrong orders. Unpopular orders. It isn’t our place to divert the Aurora against the captain’s and first officer’s decision.”
She watches me, her arms crossed. “And your feelings for him have nothing to do with this sudden aversion to contradicting his word?”
“I don’t have feelings for him! Not those feelings.” I stop and twist to look her in the eye. “I don’t get to have those feelings for a superior.”
She snorts. “Yes. Because that would compromise your ability to make decisions, right? Because intimacy clouds judgment and drives emotions into decisions that should be made with cool calculation.” Ana spreads her hands. “I’m glad to see none of that plagues you.”