Page 23 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

Caspian grinned down at Zephyr, his boots thumping on the deck as he landed before us. A golden expanse of chest, scarred in places, was on display before me, his shoulders sporting that leather armor above his wings. His gold eyes met mine and my heart stopped.

I was in so much trouble.

Chapter 8

“Urchin,”Caspiansaidingreeting, nodding to me with that soul-melting smile. There was a large scar across his chest bisecting one pectoral, partially hidden by his strange shoulder armor. I had the nonsensical desire to ask him how he got it. “How lovely to see you out amongst my crew.”

“That’s not my name,” I snapped, the magic of his song and athletic form finally fading enough for me to form a coherent thought. “And I don’t appreciate being ordered about by an overgrown seagull.”

Caspian’s jaw dropped as if he had never been insulted before, and Zephyr made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked laugh next to me.

“Such ungratefulness, after we’ve fed and clothed you,” Caspian tutted, clearly not truly offended by my comment. He turned to his first mate, whose face held a studied expression of seriousness that told me she was seconds away from laughter. “Howdidwe clothe her?”

Zephyr shrugged, already walking away from us. I got the sense that the first mate rarely sat and rested. She seemed always on the move, like the wind flowed through her veins.

“I borrowed some things from your discards chest,” she replied, giving Caspian a wry grin. “Shout if she tries to stab you!” She descended to the lower decks with an irreverent wave.

I looked up at the captain, expecting him to be blushing over the origin of my clothes. He was frowning at them, but he didn’t look embarrassed. If anything, his gaze was intensely heated as he scanned my form, and to my utter horror, I was the one to blush.

“They seem to fit fine,” he said. “Come on, Urchin.”

He passed me without another glance and walked the same direction as Zephyr, toward the rest of the crew on the lower deck.

“Princess,” I corrected, grinding my teeth in frustration over how utterly he undid me. I hurried behind Caspian, which was made more challenging by the ladder-like staircase I had to navigate. “What was that magic?”

Caspian turned, raising an eyebrow at me in confusion. “Magic?”

“Yes,” I insisted, remembering the tug I had felt in my gut as he sang, his voice smooth and deep and rolling like the waves. “Your siren song magic.”

Caspian laughed, making some of the crew turn toward us. “That was just an old ballad, Princess,” he said, patting the golden thing hanging over his shoulder. “No magic.”

“A ballad?” I asked.

The word was foreign to me, and Caspian’s jaw dropped again in shock. “Do you not have music on your islands, Princess?” he asked, the corner of his mouth drooping into a frown.

“We have drums,” I replied, shrugging to hide my discomfort at his incredulity. “But music is forbidden. Dangerous. Siren magic,” I added, gesturing to the golden thing. It was shaped a bit like an oval, with strings reaching through the open center from a bar between two arms. I had never seen anything like it, although I vaguely remembered seeing pictures of something similar in my illicit books, but I couldn’t remember the name for them.

“Forbidden?” he scoffed. “Dangerous? That’s the most barbaric thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No more barbaric than murder and kidnapping,” I shot back.

“I’ll have you know that I murdered no one in my plot to kidnap you,” Caspian said, sounding almost piously indignant at the suggestion. “But a life without music…” He trailed off and gave me a look that made me bristle.

“I don’t need your pity,” I snapped, scowling at the know-it-all captain.

“You have it anyway,” Caspian said seriously, tilting his head as he studied me for a moment before ducking into a tiny room.

I followed him into what appeared to be a kitchen. Caspian handed me a bowl of something steaming and fishy-smelling. A rather stained looking male siren who was filling the bowls gave me a little bow.

“This is the galley, Princess,” Caspian said, taking a bite of stew and moaning appreciatively. “Perfect as always, Rueben.”

“Aye, so you always say, sir,” the siren named Rueben replied. He had a coarse voice and a bushy beard, and I surreptitiously took a sip of the stew. An explosion of flavors danced across my tongue, and I struggled to withhold a similar moan of pleasure. “What say you, Princess?”

“Delicious,” I agreed, taking another spoonful and savoring the blend of flavors. There was clearly fish, but also something spicy and peppery and savory and just a touch of sweetness. It was not wholly different from the kind of fare we had back home, but there was something new in the way this had been seasoned.

“Reuben makes the best meals on the seas,” Caspian declared, downing the stew like a starving man.

“Slow down, sir,” Rueben cautioned, chuckling at Caspian’s fervor. “That’s what ye get for skipping breakfast.”