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My stomach fluttered with unease, and I took another sip of coffee. Lirr’s words drifted back to me, somehow both more meaningful and more opaque now.
Do you not remember who you are?
Remember what? I was Mary Firth, born Mary Grey and occasionally mistaken as Abetha Bonning. I was a Stormsinger, if an unreliable one. I should have been nothing to Lirr save the key to manipulating my mother. But the way he’d looked at me said otherwise.
My mother. My belly sank, filling with hope and unease. I still barely believed that she was aboard Lirr’s ship, much less that, if Demery’s plan succeeded, I’d see her again within a couple months.
I batted the thought aside and downed half the coffee in one gulp, burning my throat.
Grant abruptly asked, “Lirr isn’t your father, is he?”
I choked on the coffee and descended into a fit of hacking and spitting. “What?”
Grant tried to thump me on the back, which I warded off with a flailing hand.“Well—Ouch!Considering theirpast…”
“Lirr isnotmy father,” I spluttered. “I look just like my father and the wayLirr…Hedidn’t treat me like that.”
The former highwayman’s eyebrows went up again, something colder inching into his gaze. “How did he treat you?”
“Sail!” The cry went up from somewhere in the rigging. “Three sails!”
Demery, Athe and Bailey splintered, all three of them snapping to attention.
“Colors?” Demery shouted.
“Dark purple, flying war pennants! And they’re making for us, Cap’n.”
“Running us down with a storm blowing in,” Bailey snarled. “Craven Mereish bastards.”
Mereish. Of course, our world was at war. It wasn’t just pirates and pirate hunters who plowed these seas.
“Pray, Mereish?” Grant repeated, loud enough for the pirates to hear. “We’re in neutral waters, barely out of Tithe! The Usti are supposedto—”
“That storm’s pushing them south out of the passage,” Demery decided. He pushed up the brim of his hat, scratching at his forehead. “They may not attack.”
“To the crows with that. We should beat to quarters.” Athe sucked her teeth, unfocused eyes cast towards the danger. “Show our spines and keep them at a distance.”
“Nay,” Bailey countered. “Three Mereish? We keep our heads down and pray for mercy.”
Demery followed the direction of Athe’s gaze for an indecisive moment, then nodded. “Beat to quarters.”
Bailey scowled, but Athe leapt into motion. She strode off, issuing a string of orders that left both Grant and I baffled. Bailey followed her, separating midships and heading below to bellow more orders to the pirates off watch.
Demery approached Grant and I, lowering his chin. “Both of you, below.”
“I can help,” I protested, half out of a need to do something, and half out of the desire to prove myself. “I can turn the wind against them.”
“Or you’ll sink us,” Demery said, flat and mild and without ire. “Besides, the last thing we want is the Mereish realizing we’ve a Stormsinger, even if you’re unseasoned. Go below, get some rest. Grant, stay a moment.”
I flushed, chastened, and left without looking back at him or Grant. In the main cabin, I pulled my mittens off beside the woodstove. I drained the flask of coffee, knowing I’d hardly be able to sleep, anyway, and returned to my cabin.
Grant strode in. “Hoi,” he protested, wedging his boot in the door of my cabin before I could close it. “You’re truly going to lock yourself away? In circumstances like this?”
“What else am I to do?” I inquired.
He nodded to the table. “Play a hand of cards with me.”
“You want to play cards while we’re chased by Mereish warships?”
