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Men bedding men. Though we had such in Limonos, I knew how taboo it was to even speak of the sin of sodomy in this human world.
But clearly this was a ship of sin.
“Now eat up,” he says, tapping his fork on my plate. “Or you aren’t getting any wine.”
The conversation stole my appetite, but it doesn’t take long for it to return, especially as he uncorks the wine and pours it into the goblets. I eat forkful after forkful of the crispy pig meat with the juice and fat inside, the fruit sauce a wonderful complement. Seems Sedge is just as good or better than the cooks the royal palace employed.
For a moment I remember Aerik. He’s not eating like this tonight.
“Where is Aerik?” I ask, my voice going quiet as I swallow.
The captain pauses, a forkful of meat halfway to his mouth.
“He’s back in the cell,” he says, a dry twist to his lips. “That man never stopped complaining about the chains. Lothar is quick with welding, thankfully.” He pauses, studying me. “If it pleases you, I can make sure your prince has a good meal tonight.”
“It wouldn’t please me,” I say slowly. “But it’s probably the right thing to do.”
“Right by whom? That man deserves everything he’s getting, you know that, don’t you?” His voice drops to a low murmur and I’m surprised to see anger flickering in his eyes.
“He took care of me when I needed it,” I say and give him a warning look to just leave it at that and grab my glass of wine, suddenly wanting to get drunk.
The wine is just as good as the food, dry and sweet at the same time, flowing down my throat with ease. I drink up and up, my tastebuds coming alive, my thirst unsatiable, until I remember the company I’m keeping.
The captain is staring at me with an expression that is both tense and eager, like he’s waiting for something…more.
“Sorry,” I say, forgetting who I am for a moment and I put the wine down, using the cloth to wipe my lips.
“Don’t be,” he says. “I think you forgot I was in the room for a moment. I like that uninhibited side of you.”
My stomach growls, wanting more, but I have new questions now on top of the ones from earlier.
I take a deep breath, trying to hide any sense of stakes related to the question.
“Tell me about the mermaid.”
CHAPTER12
Ramsay
Mermaid.
Say the word and most people will laugh, lumping the idea together with unicorns and griffins. Say the word to a sailor and that laughter will take a nervous slant. Most sailors, whether they be pirates, part of the navy, merchant crew, or an old man pulling up crab nets outside a shanty town, won’t entertain such nonsense until you get them drunk. Until they’re sailing through uncharted waters in the dark and they hear the siren’s call, until they’re shipwrecked on a shoal and feel eyes watching them from the depths. Then they might tell you a different story. They might tell you that mermaids are real. They might tell you that they’re demons, no different than the Kraken. True monsters of the deep.
And yet here is the princess, lips colored red from wine, staring at me with desperate curiosity in her eyes. She either wants to believe in them…or she already does.
What has she seen during her voyages at sea? Mermaids were more commonly found in the Pacific, not the Atlantic, if you believe all the tales, which I do. But while the world feels small at times, each unexplored corner slowly becoming colonized, the ocean is forever a mystery. The surface doesn’t even hint at what lies below. Much like the company I’m keeping.
I finish chewing and put my fork down, then swallow a gulp of the fine wine before pouring her another glass. Sedge better come back soon with another bottle.
I gaze at her eyes, that impossibly bright blue shining beneath dark lashes. They remind me of something, the sheen that the water takes in certain areas at certain times of night, glowing with luminescent particles. They’re so enticing that they keep my focus on them and not the full swell of her breasts in that gown. Her hair is still wet from being washed, in thick coils around her shoulders, shining like ink and if I didn’t know any better I’d say she looked taken from the sea herself.
But that is a ridiculous notion. Mermaids don’t have legs, they don’t walk on land. She is something else, I’m sure, I just don’t know what. What I do know is that by the time we reach Acapulco, I will have her figured out in every way possible.
“What would you like to know?” I ask her, adjusting my seat as I try to will my erection away. My damn cock is always speaking up when she’s around, and she looks especially stunning tonight.
“You said mermaids are valuable. How? Do they end up in fish tanks?”
“They do in a way. They have gills to breathe through, like a fish, but they also have lungs like us, letting them stay above water for long periods of time. But we have found that when you take them out of the water, they need to be kept wet or they’ll dry out and die. A very grisly-looking scene.”
