Page 17 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

“Sunrises up north weren’t the riot of color they are here in the Caribbean,” Alys murmured to Stasia, her hands on the wheel

as she steered the ship eastward, into the apricot glow of the sun. Though the sky was clear, it still held a multitude of

hues, from deep indigo to marigold, the shades saturated and profound.

“Gray and heavy as the village itself,” Alys went on. “Every morning, I’d crack my eyes open and say, ‘Oh, fuck, another goddamn

day in this place.’ Well,” she amended wryly, “I’d think it, because if Sam or anyone ever heard me use such language, the best I could hope for was being pilloried. Olive Miller

had very good aim when it came to throwing rotten cabbage.”

“Today, you are eager to receive rosy-fingered dawn.”

Standing beside her on the quarterdeck, her second-in-command sipped at a tiny cup of coffee. Upon rising, Stasia always made

herself coffee with all the ceremony of an ancient priestess. She’d once admitted that the possessions she’d brought with

her from Greece had been few, but the dented copper briki pot was absolutely essential. She’d also shown Alys her minimal

other belongings that accompanied her from the Mediterranean, including a set of throwing knives, a brace of pistols, and

her mother’s coral komboloi beads, which she still carried and ran through her fingers when there was a rare moment of leisure.

Eris, perched on Stasia’s shoulder, moved to dip her beak into the cup, but Stasia held it away from her familiar. The few

times in the past that the magpie had managed to take some sips, it dove and swooped all over the ship and terrorized the

company with its manic twittering.

“Impossible to stay in my berth when there’s this to greet me.” Alys gestured to the wide, gleaming horizon.

“It is only eagerness to see the morning,” Stasia said dryly, “and not the fact that the navy man shares your quarters. Perhaps

he snores as loud as a hurricane and you cannot sleep. Or is it,” she added with narrowed eyes, “that you do not want to sleep

now that you have shared your dreams.”

“You drink too much of this stuff and it’s given you wild imaginings.” Alys snatched the cup from her quartermaster’s hand

and took a deep drink of what coffee remained, though she was careful not to get a mouthful of the thick sludgy grounds at

the bottom.

The remainder of Alys’s night had been spent sitting up at her desk, forcing herself to pore over magic tomes rather than

sleep. None of the books had covered dreamwalking or, more urgently, how to undo the aftereffects of being part of such perilous

magic. “Besides, I didn’t do it on purpose. It simply... happened.”

“Perhaps your mind did it without your permission because you wanted the dreamwalking to happen.” Stasia took the cup back

and eyed the grounds at the bottom for auguries.

“Being in his dreams... and him in mine... I didn’t like it. He was in every part of me. And I was in him. I’ve never...

I’ve never been so... so close to anyone.” She closed her eyes against the rush of remembrance, all the parts of Ben nestling

within her as though they fit together like dovetailed walnut, locking tight. “Nothing within me wanted that.”

Alys nodded to the crew who were coming up from belowdecks, having broken their fasts and now ready to face their tasks for

the day.

“If there’s any benefit,” she went on, “it’s that we now know where to find the Weeping Princess.

We can’t risk someone else finding the Weeping Princess and the fail-safe.

Gods and goddesses know what they’d do should it fall into their hands.

Little George colluded with the navy, and it’s a safe enough assumption to think that any of the Brethren of the Coast would sell it to the Crown for enough ducats and doubloons.

They wouldn’t care if the leviathan kills other buccaneers. Few are as untrustworthy as pirates.”

“We are, rather,” Stasia said with a hint of pride. “Some consider this trait charming rather than a detriment.”

“It’s less charming when there’s a noose around your neck or a spell that makes your innards boil like so much soup. Or makes

you flee the sea you once called home.”

Stasia inclined her head in acknowledgment. “You will have to sleep some time.”

“There are other ways to find rest.” Alys stepped aside when Hua came forward to take her usual position at the helm.

Moving to the railing, Alys leaned on the wood and surveyed her company, smoothly and efficiently carrying out their duties.

Cora, Dorothea, and Dayanna began the strenuous process of swabbing the decks. Meanwhile, Susannah made fluid hand movements

to summon swirling winds. The breezes gently lifted her up the mainmast, enabling her to take her place in the crow’s nest.

“Aloft with you, too,” Stasia murmured to Eris. The magpie crooned before flapping her wings, taking off to keep watch from

the skies. “Poor leadership is all that can result from refusing to sleep.”

“I will. At some point.” Hopefully, the effects of the dreamwalking would fade over time. Weaving herself into Ben’s mind

and heart—and his into hers—carried too many dangers.

She sensed him now, fainter that there was some physical distance between them, yet his tension and restlessness coursed through

her blood, pushing her own concern to greater heights.

If he ever crept back into her dreams, learning her own secrets, delving even deeper...

“In the meanwhile,” Stasia said with a lift of her eyebrow, “I shall brew more kafés for you.”

“If you’ve any kindness, you’ll brew three more cups.” Worry and fatigue made for a long and uneasy day, and, as her quartermaster

had pointed out, Alys was the captain of this ship. Decisions, judgment, mediation—it all flowed through her, and the added

burden of the sailing master pushed her into new doubt.

She couldn’t fail her company.

If she made a poor choice with Benjamin Priestley, everyone aboard this ship would pay the price.

She took her midday meal. Stayed above decks all afternoon. After eating, she kept herself busy for several hours by cleaning

muskets and pistols, carefully avoiding her cabin and the man that currently dwelled there. Even so, his unrest and determination

mingled with doubt still hummed through her. He was an ember smoldering in the hold that only she could feel the heat from.

Anything to keep from going to her quarters, and facing him.

No one could fault her hospitality. Food and good ale were brought to him on a regular basis, entertainment in the form of

books were provided, she even had a pitcher of fresh water and a cake of soap brought to him so he could clean his face.

None of that had soothed him. If anything, she was aware of his growing edginess, a knife being sharpened for too long until

it cut the bladesmith.

There was curiosity, too. About what , though, she couldn’t tell.

He hid something from her, too. But she’d once anchored the Sea Witch for eight days in a cay, waiting out a Portuguese ship that had hoped she would lose interest in the gold and silver stowed in its hold. She didn’t lose interest. She knew something of patience.

“How fares our guest?” Standing in the prow, she spoke to Inés, who had brought him the water and soap.

The other woman rolled her ink-dark eyes. “Ricocheting off the bulkheads like he was fired from a musket. I wager he’s not

the sort used to doing nothing.”

Six bells rang out. Ashore, it would be three in the afternoon. He’d been alone in her cabin for the duration of the morning,

and a few hours after the midday meal.

“He’ll have to accustom himself to the practice,” Alys said. “He should be grateful he’s not confined to the brig.”

“ Grateful isn’t the word I would use to describe him,” Inés answered. Her long tawny fingers picked at a thread that had come loose

from her embroidered tunic, which was tucked into breeches that buttoned up the side. “I have seen more placid racehorses

at the starting gate. I would bet on him, too. Snorting and stamping like a prized stud.”

“That stud’s not for breeding.”

Inés chuckled. “As though Susannah would look kindly on me sharing my charms with anyone but her. Besides, our navy man will

soon turn his spyglass to another star.” She gave Alys a meaningful look.

“This ship’s run with too liberal a hand,” Alys answered gruffly, even as her cheeks heated. “Get to your duties.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Inés saluted before climbing down the companionway.

After an hour spent practicing levitation spells with several members of the crew, Alys whittled and watched Cora challenge

Polly to see who could make the heaviest object on deck move the farthest. It was a draw after they both managed to float

a cannonball from the ship’s bell on the foremast to the capstan. All the bets that were placed sadly had no outcome, and

the crew adjourned, grumbling good-naturedly.

Soon after, Luna reported that she had consulted with the sailing master several times to double-check their heading as they sailed toward the island of the Weeping Princess.

Stasia sent Eris ahead to scout any possible traps, and everyone on watch had kept careful attention, in case the navy man led them into an ambush. Nothing was found.

Alys didn’t ask after him. They needed distance between each other.

It was late afternoon when Dorothea came to her, moving her square body with purposeful haste.

“Cap’n, we’re not alone,” she announced. “I been in the crow’s nest and just before my watch was done, I caught sight of a

ship trailing us. About a league south by southeast.”

Alys looked meaningfully at Stasia, standing nearby. Together, they went to the railing and looked in the direction Dorothea

had indicated. As Stasia sent her magpie familiar skyward, Alys pulled out her spyglass, and summoned the sight of a hunting

hawk into the device. When the spyglass glowed with tawny light, she aimed it south by southeast. The enchanted lens immediately