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Even as I consider this turn of luck, the wind picks up until my hair whips around me, nearly harsh enough to draw blood. I shiver. I know better than to tempt fate, even if Bunny firmly believed that fate was hardly fickle enough to be altered by silly thoughts of a single person. Bunny knew a lot, and she went through some serious shit in her life, but I’ve always believed that fate is exactly as fickle and malicious as any other entity.
I have a feeling I’m going to be proven right yet again. The thick storm clouds gathering in the sky certainly seem to think so. I’ve lived through plenty of storms, but I’ve never experienced what appears to be a hurricane while standing on the deck of a boat. It feels like being a thimble in a bathtub. Even with magic, can we survive the violence currently riding the waves and air?
“It’s not a good idea to be out here, at least until you find your sea legs properly.”
I turn to find a short old crone standing a few feet away. She has medium-brown skin creased with the laugh lines of a life well lived, and the hair that’s mostly pulled back into a tight bun is nearly white. Even though the deck shifts sickeningly beneath my feet, I bow to her a little. If there’s one rule I live by, it’s to respect my elders. “I was just on my way to my room. It wasn’t this bad when I started dinner.”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t take much to get Llyr’s panties in a bunch. The weather when we’re at sea is changeable and sudden. You’ll get used to it.”
It takes several seconds for her words to penetrate. Llyr, as in the Welsh god of the sea. I give her a long look, but it’s impossible to tell if she’s merely making a metaphorical reference, or if she means that the literal god of the sea gets his panties in a bunch. With the elders I’ve interacted with over the course of my life, it really could go either way. When you’ve lived long enough, not even literal gods are impressive.
“I’m sure I will.” I might have a relatively antagonistic relationship already with several members of the crew, but this woman has a soothing vibe that I find myself reluctant to leave behind. Or maybe there’s something about the stranger that reminds me of my grandmother.
She pulls out what appears to be a hand-rolled cigarette. “I’m the navigator. Have been for decades. I was brought on under the last captain, Ezra.” She produces a flame from somewhere and lights the end of her cigarette. It’s only when she exhales a cloud of smoke that I realize it’s not tobacco she’s smoking.
I grin. “Care to share, Grandmother?”
She lets loose the cackle that would do any witch proud. “Girl, I like you, but I’m no one’s grandmother. You can call me Dia.” She passes over the joint and watches with interest as I take a long inhale. “It will get easier. I know that sounds like a trite statement, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t happy when Ezra gave me the choice, either. I tried to kill him a dozen times before it sank in that there was no escape.” She accepts the joint back. A few puffs and she blows an honest-to-gods smoke ring. “The Cwn Annwn are not to be crossed. It took me a while to figure that out, but I’m a slow learner. Doesn’t mean you have to be. This ship is a family, if sometimes a dysfunctional one. You could be happy here if you give it enough time.”
She’s being genuine, so I don’t tell her that I have no intention of sticking around long enough to be embraced by this so-called family. It’s nothing personal.
I accept the joint back and take one more long drag, letting it burn all the way down my throat. “The old captain didn’t have a problem with you trying to kill him?” I can’t imagine getting the drop on Bowen. His damned telekinetic power gives him an instant advantage. My spells are faster than those of most witches, but he doesn’t need more than a thought to attack or defend.
She lets loose another of those amazing cackles. “To him, it was practically foreplay.” She grins, her eyes nearly disappearing in the deep wrinkles of her face. “It turns out, it was practically foreplay for me, too. Ezra and I had a lot of fun in our day.”
There’s not much else to say to that. I stand next to her and smoke for a few more minutes, watching the sky grow darker and more violent. It’s getting challenging to keep my feet. Especially with the weed in my system, making my head fuzzy. “You sure we’re not going to sink?”
“Nah. This is barely a fizzle. It will be fun.” She presses a hand to the center of my back and guides me to the door leading down to the cabins. “Get some sleep, girl. There will be plenty of work for you in the morning.”
CHAPTER 9
Bowen
AFTER THE DINNER WITH EVELYN, IT’S A RELIEF TO FOCUS on work. No new correspondence has come in via the message system enchanted into my desk, so our plan to take refuge in Yaltia during the storm will work just fine. With that plan solidified, I head out onto the deck.
We’ve only caught the edges of the storm Dia saw, but it’s a nasty one. I take the helm as the crew follows my shouted orders. I don’t love storms for the danger they present, but I can’t deny that there’s a peace in moments like these. I’m here, pitting myself against nature herself. There is no past, no future. There’s only this moment of trying to stay alive.
As always, it’s over far too soon.
Miles appears at my side, his scales glistening in the rain. His tongue flicks out. “The island has been sighted. We’re almost there.”
Sarah is up in the crow’s nest as usual, relaying what she sees to Miles by way of her magic, using the wind to transfer her words as if she were standing right next to him. There was a time when she spoke to me directly, but she’s firmly among Miles’s supporters, and now prefers to relay her directions via the quartermaster. A small rebellion, but a marked trend in how some of the crew treat me.
There’s no time to worry about it now, though.
We easily avoid the rocks surrounding the island, even with the storm driving us at unsafe speeds. The relative shelter of the bay allows us to slow our pace enough to dock safely. I shove my wet hair out of my face and drag in a harsh breath. “We should be good, but check for damages and make sure everything’s lashed down. This one’s going to be a bitch, and I don’t want us to see any damage that might delay us. Let the crew know I expect them to be on their best behavior while in town.”
Miles gives me an unreadable look. “We’re Cwn Annwn. We keep them safe. They should be greeting us like gods.”
It’s an old argument. I find that the people who join the Cwn Annwn fall into three categories. The first is like Evelyn, who resent their new lot in life and have no desire to learn the history of the Cwn Annwn. The second is like Miles, the people who see the status that being part of the Cwn Annwn brings and think that respect is owed to them simply for being part of the crew. The third … well, people who shoulder the responsibility and carry out thankless task after thankless task, each more dangerous than the last, all while keeping an eye on the responsibility we’ve inherited? We’re a lot rarer.
“You tell them, Miles. Or I will.” And we both know how that will go. The crew may trust me to keep them alive and to guide them, but they don’t like me. I’m too rigid when it comes to the laws. At least that’s what I’ve been told. Miles has used that to his advantage again and again, but I don’t know how to be any other way. We are not gods to be worshiped. We act in service to the people who live in Threshold and beyond. But that belief isn’t very popular these days among the Cwn Annwn, both among my crew and beyond.
His tail twitches restlessly. “I’ll tell them, Captain.”
I watch him walk away. Again, I wonder if today will be the day that he challenges me for the captainship. It’s only a matter of time. Ezra always told me that the best kind of partnership between a captain and a quartermaster is a slightly contentious one. The quartermaster looks after the crew’s interest, while the captain is the one who keeps their eye on the prize and guides both crew and ship. It’s natural that there would be conflict from time to time, but things with Miles are constantly fraught. I’m becoming increasingly certain that if he challenges me for the vote, I’ll lose. And then I don’t know what I’ll do.
I don’t know who I am if I’m not captain of the Crimson Hag.
