Page 20 of Traitor Witch

NILSA

Nausea roils in the back of my throat the second I step onto the boat. The rocking combined with the constant sounds of the sea and the smell of brine is my worst nightmare. On the way, the shifter starts explaining boat terminology to me as he points out different rooms and levels with blurring speed.

Why sailors need a different name for every room is beyond me. I barely manage to pick up that ‘mess’ means dining room, ‘galley’ means kitchen and ‘cabin’ is their word for bedroom.

Oh, and apparently theDeadwoodis a ship, not a boat.

So, of course, I resolve to call it a boat in front of Valorean as often as possible.

When I enter the ‘galley’ with Cas, I fully expect the sight of food to turn my stomach.

The warmth of the room is what hits me first. A huge black, crystal-powered stove keeps this area of the ship cosy.It’s so warm that I slip my cloak off without thinking about it.

The huge, battered table in the centre steals my attention. The surface is covered in burn marks and claw-shaped gouges and it’s surrounded by mismatched chairs. Several worktables line one wall on either side of the stove and the rest of the space is filled with barrels and crates of dried food. It isn’t exactly the pristine kitchens of the Solar Tower, but it has a rustic, functional kind of charm.

There’s even a sink, much to my confusion.

“How does a ship like this have plumbing?” I ask.

“Val.” Cas just shrugs, like that explains everything.

Maybe to someone who knows more about bond mages, it would do, but mages aren't exactly common in Coveton. I've probably only seen a handful in my life, and at least one of them was a target.

My cluelessness must show on my face because Cas chuckles. “He controls everything about the ship,” he explains. “But what happens to one happens to the other. If the ship is damaged, Val gets hurt. If Val’s injured…”

“The ship gets damaged,” I finish for him, moving over to the crates.

I peer inside one, curious to see what these pirates eat, but I’m disappointed to find them completely empty.

“I suppose this is your domain now,” Cas shrugs. “Kier usually cooks, so it’ll be good to have something different for a change. You do know how to cook, right?”

“Cooking and potion-making aren’t that different,” I say, still peering into crates trying to find any kind of fresh ingredients.

All I’ve found so far is a barrel full of dry biscuits.

At least it’s food. Worst case scenario, I can transform it into something edible.

Witches can transfigure like to like, so one form of foodto another is no great stretch. But bland food will remain bland, sweet food remains sweet and so on.

A couple of jars look promising, there’s some kind of jam in one and pickled… something in another. Oh, and plenty of salt and dried spices.

“I can probably make something passable with this,” I muse. “I might need to add a little magic to make it taste good.” Hopefully, whatever I can come up with will be good enough to satisfy the pirates.

The intimidating vampire is another matter.

Goddess, just thinking about him makes me shiver. I’ve seen large men before, but he takes it to a new level. His hand was twice the size of mine, his arms as thick as my thighs. I’d asked him to wear a shirt because those nipple rings just kept daring me to play with them.

His eyes were so deep and soulful. They’d promised me safety even as they’d prepared for rejection.

Cas lets out a huge barking laugh that breaks me out of my fantasy and reaches past me to grab a biscuit out of the barrel.

“If you want revenge for Val’s assholery just slip something in his food to mess with his precious hair.”

I grin, because I can easily do that. The mental image of the pirate, his arrogant face wide-eyed with horror as his white locks fall to the floor makes me smile wider.

Baldness hexes are a party trick to a Lunar witch.

Cas grabs a bowl and ladles it full of some kind of broth from a pot on the stove. He ushers me to the table, then places it in front of me with a flourish.