Page 12 of Saved By the Selkie

Lir looks at me, then nods. He practically leaps at the rope, then tries to haul himself up. He goes nowhere at all, his legs coming loose and dangling instead of wrapping tight around the rope.

Someone tosses the ladder over the side. Anna peers down at us. “Let the lad get some pants,” she says. “He’s probably worried about rope burn on his unmentionables.”

“Oh!” Lir says, then promptly drops off the rope, back into the boat.

He doesn’t do much better with the ladder, really, but he finally clambers up and Anna and I have to haul him over the side. Porthos and Johan give us a look but start hauling up the boat.

Smitty, the first mate, grabs my hand and shakes it. “Glad to have ya back, cap’n,” he says.

“Glad to be back,” I reply gruffly, glancing away. There’s something insincere in his eyes. I don’t know how much he plotted with Perry, but I know he was involved somehow.

“On your order, sir,” Porthos says as he lands a hand on my shoulder. I glance up at him, and he nods.

“Right. Lift anchor, set course for Boston.”

“Boston,” Anna echoes, lifting her brows. “Not New York?”

I sigh. I’d rather go back to New York, since that’s where my patron is, but Boston’s closer. “We were delayed, and our provisions will be short. We’ll sail for Boston so we can restock our stores.”

“Ah,” she says.

I turn back to Lir, who has watched the entire exchange, with wide-eyed confusion. “Now,” I say, clapping a hand on his arm, ignoring the tingle in my fingers when I make contact with his smooth skin, “let’s get you some pants.”

eight

Lir

W

e sail south. The going is slow; even as spring progresses and the sun warms, the passages around Mythos are logged with ice, and the human ship is a fragile thing. If we run into the ice, it will break apart.

I’m not sure why they wouldn’t make stronger ships then, but Aramis tells me they don’t sail up this way much.

I guess that makes sense. Before I saved Aramis, I’d never heard of humans, much less seen one.

They’re a weird bunch. We celebrated something they called Easter about a week ago, which involved a lot of food. After that, they sang and stomped around in circles. Aramis called it dancing—jigs and reels.

They also did something they called lighting the cannons. I went and hid in my quarters when they did that; the booming was too much for my ears. The humans didn’t seem bothered at all.

Like I said, they’re weird. They think I’m the strange one—they give me a funny look every time I bother Aramis about my missing pelt. He assures me he has it; I thought I’d left it behind on Mythos, but Aramis claims he brought it along with him.

I keep hinting to him that I want it back. The further south we sail, the less ice there is, and the ocean looks inviting. It’s been weeks since I’ve been in the water, and I’m getting antsy.

Aramis won’t even let me see it. The last time I asked, he pulled me aside, whispering to me that I should be patient. He doesn’t trust the crew, although I’m not sure why. I thought they were friends, but I guess I’m wrong.

Johan bumps into me as I make my way below deck. “Lir!” he cries, whirling about. “What are ye doing down here? Come back on deck, we’re celebrating the cap’n.”

“Hm?” I ask, tugging my hand free of his grip. I don’t particularly like Johan, although I can’t put my flipper on why.

“C’mon!” He gestures back up the stairs. “The party’s just getting started. Are you sayin’ you won’t celebrate the cap’n with us?”

“Celebrate the captain?” I ask, drifting back toward him and the stairs. “Why?”

“Why, it’s his birthday, of course!”

“What’s a birthday?” I ask, tilting my head.

Porthos strides up behind us. “You don’t know what a birthday is?” he booms, folding his arms.