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I had planned to!

Ridiculous, how Rusk (or what little was left of him) could still disturb. It annoyed Parry enough to make him turn on his heel, striding off cabin-wards at such a pace he left the ghost in his wake, if only momentarily.

***

He had expected to find the shark-were posted outside, not in—and certainly not crouched at Miss Attesee’s feet with its receding chin almost in her lap, stolid-worshipful as any sandpaper-skinned dog. Let alone for it to look up as he entered and dare to bare its teeth—begin to, any rate, ‘til he fixed the damned thing with a stare that made it drop its lidless eyes and crawl away, groaning.

At the movement, Miss Attesee looked up as well, recalled to herself; her gaze widened prettily, to find him standing before her. “Oh, Captain Parry! I did not hear you . . . your servant was keeping me company, as you see. Thank you for lending me him.”

“Is that what you think I did, madam?”

“Did you not? He frightened me at first, but—when alone, he is surprisingly well-behaved. And . . . ” She paused here, as if feeling her way. “ . . . useful, in some circumstances.”

“So I have found.” He furled a dismissive little lick of sparks Dolomance’s way, urging it to remove itself, which it did, though not without a mournful glance Miss Attesee’s way. She gestured for Parry to sit down beside her, which he did, even though there was no place other than the bed to do so. “Now . . . my bo’sun tells me you were disturbed, for which I tender my apologies. Those involved will be spoken to, harshly.”

“Oh sir, it was nothing so bad, really.”

“Bad enough to require Mister Dolomance’s interjection, or so I’m told. And believe me, madam, mercy is not looked on favourably, when dealing with sea-scum such as the Salina’s complement. They are men sworn to do ill and profit from it, if they may.”

“Yes, I suppose this is true. Though the men of the Nymph did not seem so evil, in the main; not before that last night. And then . . . ”

And then? Parry longed to ask. Please, elucidate; I have seen the fruits of it, heard your father struggle to give war

nings. Yet I cannot hope to understand, without your testimony . . .

All this fell away, however, when her distress prompted him to lay a comforting hand on her sleeve, only to have her fold herself into his side and press her head beneath his jawline, shuddering slightly. It was a moment of such force he found he had pitifully few words to describe it: a jolt, a spark—what was that, exactly, raising the hairs and ruffling his spine?

(Rusk would know, damn him.)

At that, the man himself came fading through the wall, as if summoned. Leant down over them both, remarking: Hmmm, she works fast, this drab of yours. Not that you seem all too happy wi’ the results.

Parry shook his head, gulping. Nay, I mislike this . . . cannot order my thoughts, calm my pulse. Some enchantment, perhaps; was that what Attesee warned of? But I sense no real magic about her, beyond her ability to see such phantasms as you—

Rusk all but rolled his eye, sardonically. Oh, certain, he agreed. Or perhaps she likes your looks, had ye never thought of that? Can it be ye’ve had no dealings with females at all, before?

Parry cast his mind back. There’d been no girls for him in Cornwall, since all knew his Church-bound intentions—besides which, he was hardly the sort of young spark that mother-in-laws found suitable, being too lean, too reserved, too haughty by far to tempt most happy buxom village misses. You are naught but a mire-bred witch-get brat, ‘Master’ Parry, he remembered one good-wife shouting after him in the street, who think yourself so far above us all! And later on, those clots of women who clustered ‘round Navy ships like rats after cheese, scouting for sailors on leave—they’d been a positive horror to him. Not to mention they wanted a man with money who’d drink enough to splash some of it out, then grow quick-fuddled enough not to be able to tell in the dark who might be poxed, after . . .

Ha! So I did pluck your flower, as I’d suspected. Lucky me.

Say your piece, you filthy bloody lump of—

She likes you, is all. So allow her t’ show ye t’other side of things, and see if it suits ye better.

It could hardly suit him worse, Parry supposed. But: As I said, your counsel’s enough to turn me elsewhere, from any subject. Besides, given how oft I’ve had it practiced on me, I’ve developed no particular taste for outragement.

Rusk shrugged. Cheat the both of ye, then, for all I care. ‘Tis obvious she wants ye t’ pay court to her, wi’ no ravishing involved—her choice, her will. You have only to bend to it. What can it cost?

He didn’t know, Parry realized. Which disquieted him all the more.

“I am sorry indeed, to inconvenience you so,” Miss Attesee—might he call her Clione now, at least in his mind?—said, into his clavicle. “The shock, you see . . . I can still see my poor father, pushing me into that boat, setting the waters alight. How they fell on him when they perceived I was gone, like animals. And I had known each and every one of them, growing up. I thought them my friends.”

“What changed?”

“Oh, if I only knew!” She drew back a bit, seeking his eyes. “I lived my whole childhood on the Nymph, sir—indeed, I cannot ever recall being not a-sea. That must be odd, surely.”

“I . . . find it somewhat hard to know what is odd myself, madam, living as I have.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She stared, as though committing him to memory. Then added, softer: “You are not as I had supposed you.”