Page 14

“Toss it over or store it below,” Dimella says. “I can’t see half the ship when you’re in front of me, and that has nothing to do with my size.”

“Aye-aye, Miss Dimella.”

Enwen pulls the hat from his head and clutches it to his chest. He’s a tall man even without it, with midnight-black hair, small eyes, defined cheekbones, and impossibly long lashes. Enwen’s body type borders on scrawny. Probably a good thing. With all the superstitions he carries around with him, the man can appear massive.

I start to follow him belowdecks to get settled before remembering I don’t sleep with the rest of the crew. No, this is my ship. My quarters are at the stern. The captain’s quarters. The door is unlocked, so I let myself in.

It’s more space than any single person on a ship has a right to own, though I’m sure Alosa would think it too small. Brigantines are thin and easy to maneuver, valued for their speed. The captain’s quarters are much smaller than they might be on other vessels.

I empty out my bag, putting four sets of identical clothing in cubbies of the closet. Cotton shirts and pants in varying shades of gray and black. My spare boots I place on the floor, tucking my coin purse within the toe of the left boot for safekeeping.

I notice that Alosa has already placed other sets of clothing in here for me. Fur-lined pants and boots. Long-sleeved shirts, wool scarves and hats, a coat thick enough for me to get lost in.

There’s no telling how far north we’ll have to go, but the farther we sail, the colder the weather will get. As usual, Alosa has thought of everything.

I haven’t any items in the way of personal belongings save all the weapons I carry on me. I learned at a young age not to give value to such things. They can be ripped away faster than you can blink.

I store my second rapier, brass knuckles, knives, and other sharp instruments throughout the room, placing them in drawers, nooks behind navigating instruments, and wherever else I can make them fit. That done, I turn to the bed.

I can’t remember the last time I slept in an actual bed. Usually, it’s a hammock belowdecks for the likes of me, and I’ve certainly never slept in a bed big enough to fit two people.

Atop the woolen blankets, I find the key to my room, a fine-looking jacket, and a note. I pocket the key before picking up the parchment.

You’re a captain now, so you need to look the part. Happy belated birthday! See you when I get back.

With love,

Mandsy

I flip the paper over, finding another scrawl of writing in a different penmanship.

You should know I had to stop her from picking out something in yellow. Since you hate attention and birthdays, I won’t bother to wish you a happy one. You should also note that I refrained from giving you a gift. Who’s your favorite?

It’s me!

—Niridia

I’m smiling despite myself. The captain’s coat is made out of a midnight-black brocade, though I note that Mandsy couldn’t help but pick out something with a dash of color. A deep scarlet paints the wide cuffs at the wrists, as well as the collar at the neck. Gold buttons drift down the sides, each one so polished I can see my reflection.

It must have been terribly expensive.

I try it on.

Fits like a glove.

I find the mirror near the closet and appraise myself.

I look … like a captain. Like a girl who’s meant to be seen and give out orders. The jacket hangs down to my knees, just above where the leather of my tall boots ends. The rest of my clothes are worn and faded, not matching at all with the fancy new coat.

Mandsy would probably say that I need to break it in. She’d point out it will get dirty and worn with usage. I’ve never been one to care what people think of me, but maybe that’s because I’m not used to them looking my way at all, not when I’m so careful to hide myself in the shadows.

I look above the coat, at the features of my face. I like to keep my hair in small braids, which I then pull back into a ponytail. I prefer it kept out of my eyes. Makes it easier to kill things. I have pointed features, strong cheekbones, and an angled brow. My nose is wide, and my brown eyes have a circle of black at the outer edge of the irises.

Even I can admit the coat looks incredible against my dark brown skin.

It would be rude not to wear it.The voice of reason in my head sounds strangely like Alosa’s.

But Mandsy’s not here to know whether or not I wear it.