Page 2 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

“ D o you know what she looks like?” I ask, my eyes scanning the crowded harbor.

Mercer, my father’s steadfast first mate, shakes his head. “No.”

“Then why bother looking?”

Mercer’s mouth twitches beneath his beard. “Because there’s nothing else to do while we wait, little miss.”

I sigh. It’s the waiting in general that’s upsetting me.

Hydratta’s royal harbor buzzes with the cries of seagulls and the lively conversations of merchants and sailors.

The fragrance of saltwater and spices permeates the air, and the dock sways beneath our feet with the rhythm of the waves.

Behind me stands The Adella , my father’s grand trading ship, its sails furled and rigging creaking in the gentle breeze.

It’s the only home I’ve ever known, and after today I’ll never see it again.

“We don’t have to wait for my aunt,” I say hopefully. “We could get back on the ship.”

Mercer glances down at me, pity and exasperation mingling on his face. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

“But I don’t understand why. ”

“A ship isn’t a suitable place for a girl.”

I squeeze the heavy brass key in my hand until the metal prongs dig into my flesh. “It seems there’s nowhere interesting in the world suitable for a girl.”

He laughs. “True enough, little miss, but there are better places than aboard a ship, aye? The crew wouldn’t know what to do with you now that your father’s gone.”

He says the word “gone” with gravity, as if some great illness or accident took my papa. As if it wasn’t his own choice to throw himself into the sea with no care for what he’d leave behind. With no care for me.

“I could work, you know. I know how to do every job on board. Wouldn’t it be?—”

“That’s enough,” Mercer grumbles. “You’ll be happy living with your aunt. I know your papa was already thinking about sending you to live with her before—” he coughs “—well, you know.”

I nod automatically. Of course I know, but thinking about it makes the backs of my eyes burn. I brush angrily at my eyes with my free hand, refusing to let a single tear fall.

This is the first I've heard that Papa wanted to send me away, but I’m not surprised. There aren’t many children on merchant ships, and even fewer girls, but the sea is the only home I’ve ever known.

I’ve lived my entire life on the decks of The Adella.

While other children attended school, I’ve never spent more than a week at a time on land.

My schooling was in navigation and astronomy, how to barter with merchants in every port in Ellender, and how to curse like a sailor.

I doubt any of that will be useful in the household of my aunt, Beatrix.

My father’s only sister lives with her husband and son in the eastern kingdom of Vernallis. I’ve never met her, and I dread what it will be like in her house. Will I have to go to school? Will they treat me as a servant or as a lady? I’m not sure which would be worse.

Sighing, I turn my gaze back to the bustling harbor street beyond the docks. Being a noble Fae lady, I can only assume my aunt will arrive to collect me in a grand, horse-drawn carriage.

I’m half right.

Within the hour, Aunt Beatrix arrives in a worn relic of a carriage, with faded paint and wheels that groan and squeak with every turn.

The driver, a bored-looking Fae male, guides the carriage to a slow, creaking halt at the end of the dock.

With a roll of his eyes, he leaps down from his seat and holds open the carriage door.

A beautiful, dark-haired Fae woman appears in the doorway, taking the driver’s hand to help her down. She’s wearing a tailored lavender silk gown that shimmers in the afternoon sunlight and looks almost ethereal against the backdrop of the battered old carriage.

My stomach sinks, and I lean closer to Mercer. “Is that her?”

He lets out a grunt that might be a “yes” or it could mean, “I’m not sure.”

“She doesn’t look like Papa,” I observe.

Mercer chuckles under his breath, but before he can answer, we’re both distracted by another figure in the carriage’s doorway.

A skinny boy with messy coppery-brown hair jumps down to stand beside Aunt Beatrix.

He can’t be any older than twelve, but he’s already taller than his mother by several inches.

Mouthy, too, by the look of it, because he cranes his head back and says something to the carriage driver that makes the grown man’s face redden.

Seemingly unbothered, Aunt Beatrix strides toward us, her head held high. Her son trots after her, looking somewhere between sheepish and annoyed.

Mercer straightens his shoulders and steps forward to meet them halfway. “Are you Lady Ashwater, Ma’am?”

“I am!” Aunt Beatrix’s face breaks into a wide smile as she stops in front of us and looks from Mercer, to me, to the ship behind us. “And you?”

“James Mercer, Ma’am. Recently appointed captain of The Adella .”

Her smile turns tight. “Pleasure to meet you. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Not long at all,” Mercer lies.

Aunt Beatrix nods politely, then steps around Mercer. She pulls off her lavender gloves and bends down to my eye level. “You must be Odessa.”

I blink at her, a wave of discomfort washing over me. Now that she’s closer, I can see my aunt has the same blue eyes as my papa, and the sight of them makes my throat so tight I can’t speak. I squeeze the key in my hand until it hurts.

“I’m so sorry about your father,” Aunt Beatrix says kindly. “And I’m sorry that we’re meeting like this. I wrote to Gabriel so many times over the years, asking him to bring you for a visit.”

There’s a long silence where I can feel all eyes on me. I swallow the lump in my throat, willing myself not to cry.

I will not cry in front of these strangers who are going to take me away from my home and everyone I’ve ever known. The humiliation would be unbearable. And worse, I can already see the pity on my aunt’s face.

The only thing worse than humiliation is pity.

Aunt Beatrix sighs, her brow furrowing with concern. She glances at her son, who has been silent until now. “I need to go speak with Mr. Mercer. Wait here with Odessa.”

Her son nods, and Aunt Beatrix steps away, leaving me alone with my cousin in the middle of the dock.

“What have you got in your hand?” the boy asks as soon as his mother is out of earshot.

I glance at him, realizing that I don’t know his name. Aunt Beatrix didn’t introduce him, and although I’m sure Papa mentioned my cousin’s name at least once, it escapes me now. Not knowing what to say, I wrap my fingers tighter around the brass handle of the antique key.

My father gave me this key, promising to reveal the treasure it opened, but then he took his own life, leaving me forever uncertain of where the key fits.

“You’re very quiet,” my cousin observes.

“Too bad. I’ve been looking forward to hearing about what it’s like to live on a ship…

” He trails off, widening his bright green eyes in an invitation for me to join the conversation.

When I don’t, he just shrugs. “…but I guess you’re going to turn out to be boring. ”

I bristle, an immediate denial springing to my lips. “I’m not boring.”

My cousin grins. “Could’ve fooled me. I’m Daemon, by the way.”

My temperature rises as fast as my indignation. My papa always said I had a temper like a stormy sea. One moment it’s smooth sailing, and the next the tide is so rough it could swallow an entire ship in one gulp. “Perhaps I simply don’t want to talk to you.”

“Or perhaps you can’t carry on a normal conversation,” he says, in a tone of mock contemplation. “Don’t worry, I know it’s not your fault. Mother told me you’d never been to school.”

As quick as a blink, I almost forget my sadness as anger takes over. “How dare you? M-my father just died!”

Daemon’s grin widens, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Mine too.”

I jerk back, startled. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.

Before I can think of how to respond, the sounds of commotion drift toward us from the adjacent street.

Daemon grows distracted, craning his neck to watch, and I follow his gaze.

At the far end of the cobblestone street that runs alongside the dock, a group of sailors has gathered in a circle.

In the center, two men are beating each other until their faces and fists are bloody.

“Who do you suppose started it?” Daemon asks.

“Are you joking?”

“No. Why? Do you know them?”

I scoff, finding myself pleased to know something my cousin doesn’t. “They’re not fighting out of anger. Haven’t you ever seen boxing before?”

He shakes his head. “No. The only fighting allowed in the court of Vernallis is magical dueling.”

My eyebrows raise. My father was Fae, and all Fae have magic, but magic isn’t good for much unless you train to use it. I’ve never met anyone with training. “Do you use magic, then?” I ask. “That’s something I’d like to see.”

In answer, Daemon flicks a hand toward a nearby lamppost. It promptly explodes, and I duck, raising my arms to shield my head from the spray of glass. “What was that for? You could have just said ‘yes.’ You didn’t have to smash anything.”

Daemon swears under his breath, looking crestfallen. “Sorry. I meant to light the lamp.”

“I take it you’re not winning many duels?”

His face breaks into another grin. “No, not yet, which is why I’ve got to learn other ways to fight. Come on, let’s go.”

I blink in confusion, still shaking broken glass from my long red hair. “Go where?”

“To watch the fight,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You know, to pick up tips.”

I shake my head. “But we have to wait for your mother.”

Daemon scoffs, walking backwards toward the end of the dock. “No, we don’t. She’s afraid you won’t adjust well to coming to live with us. She won’t come back until she thinks I’ve gotten you to talk…and you’re talking. So, let’s go.”