Page 8 of Drift: Willa & Koy

The man waiting at the bay greeted us with a nod, his white mustache combed and beard trimmed.

“This is Willa, our bosun.” Koy gestured to me. “She’ll be able to help you with whatever you need.”

He looked me over carefully, brows coming together. The woman beside him didn’t look convinced, either.

“How can I help?” I said, not breaking his gaze.

“Dennon.” He finally reached out to shake my hand, an impressive gesture from a Saltblood. “I’m theWellworthy’s helmsman. This is our navigator, Nathaly.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“We have some repairs in our second quarters we need done, but we’re on a tight schedule.”

“Understood.”

The four of us looked at each other for a beat too long.

“If you show me, I can go ahead and get started.” I offered.

Dennon nodded again, moving aside so that I could climb the ladder leading up to the deck. I stuck the ledger into back of my pants and climbed, and the thick smell of oiled wood grew heavy in the air. Even before I reached the deck, I could see that it was a pristine vessel. It couldn’t be more than a few years old.

I came over the railing and Dennon followed as Koy and the coin master talked down on the dock. Ailee was waiting patiently beside them, not wanting to make a move until I told her to. At least one of us was good at listening.

I turned to the ship and several deckhands were at work on the masts, some of them restringing lines and others polishing the rust off of pulleys. None of them seemed concerned with me or the island, their attention on their work.

“This way.”

Dennon led me toward the helm. It sat before the mouth of a wide, ornately carved archway beneath the upper decks. I smelled it before I saw it. Black char stained the wood just inside, the evidence of a fire.

I followed him into the passageway, inspecting the damage. The ruined wood paneling darkened as we neared one of the closed doors. That was where the fire must have broken out.

Dennon raised a fist, knocking twice, and I could feel the confusion twist my features. I’d never seen a helmsman knock on any door of his own ship. Had I heard him wrong? Had I gotten the two titles mixed up somehow?

Dennon gave me a taut but polite smile, as if his patience was being tried. When there was no sound inside the quarters, he knocked again.

A loud ping hit the floor on the other side of the door and I could feel the vibration of it under my feet. Something had fallen. It was followed by the scrape of wood and a couple of clumsy steps before the handle finally turned.

The door swung open and a young man stood on the other side, leaning heavily into the jamb. His blond hair fell into his face, half of it tucked behind one ear as if he’d made no attempt at taming it. His shirt was crumpled, his boot laces untied, and despite a very handsome face, he was an utter mess.

His eyes slowly moved over my body before they met mine straight on in a level of eye contact that made me want to flinch. He’d clearly spent the night drinking. I could smell that, too.

“Sir, this is the harbor’s bosun.” Dennon clasped his hands behind his back. Was this man a helmsman or a butler? I couldn’t tell. “She’s here to take a look at the damage so she can make repairs.”

The man, who couldn’t be more than four or five years older than me, stared at me.

“Willa,” I said, my own name sounding like a question. I had no idea what was going on here.

The young man stood up straighter, letting the door open wider. Behind him, the half-burned quarters were in complete disarray. There was a hole in the bulkhead between this room and the upper decks, where a patch of blue sky was visible.

“Coen Fuerst.” He held out a hand and I reluctantly took it, shaking. His grip was tight and warm, matching that smolder in his gaze as he watched me.

“As you can see.” Dennon stepped inside, going to the place on the wall that was the blackest. “The fire broke out here. Most of the damage is localized, thanks to the quick work of the crew, but we’ll need to put it right before continuing on.”

I studied the pattern of the burns. It looked like it had originated beside the bed before it climbed the wall and spread across the floor. My guess was that Coen had knocked over a lantern in his drunken stupor. He was lucky he hadn’t caught fire himself.

As if he could hear the thought, a wry smile lifted at the corner of his mouth. It made his eyes sparkle mischievously.

I pressed a hand to the wood panels, systematically leaning into each section to test its give. Most of the wall and floor looked as if they were sound, which meant the real work would be in repairing the ceiling. Everything else was a matter of sanding and re-staining. Those were tasks Ailee had mastered already, which meant I could get this done quickly and efficiently.

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