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I shook my head, ashamed.“I’ve…I’dnever left the Wold until a few months ago. And I only speak Aeadine.”
Grant gave me a sideways look at that, brows knitting. “You’ve spent your entire life in a Ghistwold? You never left? Truly?”
I nodded, leveling my shoulders. “Never. But I had a governess, as I said. I learned my histories and poetry, and I can dance and play several instruments. Be polite and such. Things ladies know.”
Demery surveyed me silently, an inscrutable calculation passing behind his eyes. Grant nearly looked pitying.
“I want to do this,” I asserted, indignation rising. “I’ll be helpful.”
“Follow Mr. Grant’s lead, then,” the captain decided, turning back to his books.
I smiled in relief and glanced at Grant. He seemed concerned, but at my look he arched his brows suggestively.
“This ought to be entertaining,” he observed.
Widderow spoke over him, asking me, “How are your numbers, girl?”
“Fair.”
“She’s mine.” The old woman pointed at me with her ink-bloodied stylus. “Eli, your crew cannot count beyond their fingers, and Saint save me, I could use an assistant at my age.”
“You? An assistant?” the bosun, Bailey, spoke up for the first time. “I was under the impression devils had ‘minions.’”
Demery cleared his throat. “Mary, when you’re not tending the weather, you’ll assist Widderow.”
It didn’t sound as though I had a choice, so I nodded. The old woman gave me a narrow-eyed smile, a cat to a trapped mouse, and went back to writing her list.
“What’s your plan for cornering Lirr?” Athe asked.
“I’ve a location in mind where we can lure him,” Demery said. “Once we’re ready, supplied and crewed, we’ll head there and make our stand.”
“And rescue my mother,” I said.
“Then head over the Stormwall,” Athe added.
“To riches.” Bailey rocked his chair back onto two legs and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Precisely,” Demery finished.
“So, we go to a graveyard of our predecessors, locked in ice and haunted by unimaginable quantities of Other-born beasts,” Widderow said lightly, stoppered her ink, and stood to present her list to Demery with a flick of paper. She nodded to me. “You do realize that no matter what you say to the crew, there will be trouble with this one. She may not be Lady Abwery but she is no sack of potatoes, and that is all these boys care about.”
Caught between offense and a spike of panic, I looked at the captain. “What is she saying?”
“I’m aware,” Demery said to Widderow without feeling.
“Trouble?” I repeated, looking at the old woman, but she was on her way out of the cabin with a rustle of dark skirts. “You promised me protection, Mr. Demery. If your crew can’t be trusted, ourarrangement—”
Across the table, Bailey rolled his eyes and stood. “Didn’t know we had a princess aboard.”
“I’m nothing of the sort,” I snapped, brazen in my indignation.
“No doubt of that,” Grant muttered. “You ought to have seen her the day we met.”
“I worked an inn for tenyears—Ican handle myself.” My mind tracked back to a dark forest, the open door of the coach, scraped palms, and heavy boots stalking through the autumn deadfall. I added, “And enough to know that sometimes a slap isn’t enough.”
“That’s why I’m assigning a crewmember as your guardian,” Demery stated.
Athe caught his eye over the table and relief sunk into my muscles. The woman wasn’t overly kind, but I felt safe in her shadow.
