Page 55 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“No…just leave me here,” I managed between gasps and sniffles.

“Nonsense,” he said.

He scooped me into his arms, in spite of my pitiful protests. He carried me to his rooms, past curious and cautious stares from the crew. I hid my face against his shoulder and soaked the fabric with my tears.

Chapter Eight

Redemption

The captain stripped me, silently and efficiently, and put me into his bed. I fisted my hands to protect my palms and also to show my resistance to these circumstances. I didn’t feel I deserved this kind of treatment.

Once I found myself underneath the soft blankets on the captain’s bed, and the exhaustion of everything I’d been through caught up to me, I drifted into blessed unconsciousness as theArrowswayed gently beneath me.

I woke to the sound of gulls shrieking outside the window and the dawn of a new day. When I raised a hand to my head, I felt the linen bandage and remembered what had transpired. Instantly, a cloud as thick and black as the one that had engulfed the attacking ship the day before enveloped me, and I rolled over, hoping to fall back into unconsciousness.

But Captain Martin had seen me open my eyes.

“Rooster, darling. I know you’re awake.”

His voice sounded close by, the puff of his breath tickling my ear.

I didn’t respond.

He sighed and I blinked back tears. I couldn’t get the fucking image of the maelstrom that had engulfed the ship the day before out of my head.

That storm, or spell, or summoning, had beenmydoing. And I’d killed so many people. I’d almost killed Captain Martin!

“Rooster, I want you to listen to me. And know that I am speaking as Dinesh Martin, captain of theArrow, and also as Captain Martin, seducer and ravisher of Mr Simon Bartholomew White.”

He waited and I could not stop myself from answering. He was the captain, after all.

“Yes, Captain,” I whispered.

“I don’t know exactly what happened yesterday. I’m not sure that you do either, although you appear convinced that the sudden and specific storm came from your hands.”

Tears tracked down my cheeks. I nodded.

“Nobody on this ship is displeased with you. The crew is wary, yes, the way any inexplicable phenomena makes men uneasy. But they are also very thankful, Rooster.”

“Donatello,” I croaked.

“Yes. We lost Donatello, and I won’t forget the pain of that. At least he went quickly,” Captain Martin said. “I’ve put Hillier in charge of things, if that makes a difference to you.”

I didn’t respond, recalling the image of Donatello being shot. That shocking occurrence had ignited the flame in my chest, and I felt a remnant of that heat stirring now. But I took deep, calming breaths, as I’d learned to do years and years ago, to keep the dark magic as a glowing ember instead of a raging inferno.

I hadn’t known Donatello in an intimate way, but I had known him to be a fair and diplomatic man. We had been friends, I think.

The captain kept talking. He stayed close but he didn’t touch me.

Perhaps he was wary, too, and the thought distressed me. He needn’t be. I’d as soon call a storm down on myself than hurt a hair on his head.

“Do you know, little rooster, that—traditionally—the fellow who is first to spy a ship on the horizon gets its finest booty?”

I didn’t say anything, wondering where he was going with this line of conversation.

“Now, the only thing of value that survived our…encounter…is laying in this bed beside you. But I want to tell you that he’s yours, if you’ll have him.”

The tears I’d managed to hold back returned, and I sobbed into the pillow.

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