Page 60 of A Flash of Golden Fire

He looked even more sheepish. “Guilty, as charged. But entertaining multiple partners on board gets a bit tricky when they are also your crew.”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“I’m happy to have one very lovely man on my bed, even if he comes with two rather scruffy-looking chooks.”

I was pleased to hear the first part of that sentence, but moved to cover the ears of the chickens.

“How dare you. They aren’t scruffy looking. Or if they are, it’s because chickens weren’t ever meant to live on the water.”

“Granted. Perhaps we’d better put them out of their misery.”

“No, stop that nonsense. Come over here and meet them properly,” I demanded.

The captain indulged me, happy to see my mood improved, I suppose.

“Now, here, this is Elizabeth,” I said, passing him the golden-brown chicken that chirped at the sudden movement. “Elizabeth, this is Captain Martin. He’s responsible for theArrow, and he’s got an enormous cock. He likes to ram me with it, and I don’t mind at all.”

“Hello, Elizabeth,” Captain Martin said, reaching out with a tentative hand to stroke her. “Will she bite?”

“Well, she’s never bittenme.”

He didn’t look reassured. But he made an attempt at friendship that was amusing to watch. “My, you are a pretty thing…Elizabeth,” he said, acting like a reluctant uncle who’d had a baby passed to him.

“And this lovely russet beauty is Frances.”

Captain Martin accepted delivery of the other chicken into his lap. Frances made hilarious clucking noises as if she was as excited as I would be to sit on Captain Martin’s broad thighs.

“Lovely to make your noisy acquaintance, I’m sure,” Captain Martin said, glancing up with a long-suffering look, as if he’d never had to deal with this sort of indignity in his life but would, in this moment, for me.

“Now, then, give her a kiss,” I suggested, taking Elizabeth back and planting a soft peck on top of her tiny head.

“I’m not going to kiss her, Simon. She’s lovely, but I don’t fancy a feather in my mouth.”

“Well, you aren’t very adventurous, are you? I’ll have you know there are a good many interesting things that can be done with feathers.”

Chapter Nine

Witch

TheArrowbecame a flurry of activity while I spent a short time with my chooks in Captain Martin’s bed. She was put into full sail and heading out on a more deliberate course. Orders were shouted, and feet stomped the deck as men hurried to follow them. The sails flapped as they were unfurled, and the hull rocked as we began to ride the waves with much greater velocity and purpose. The windows of Captain Martin’s rooms had been opened to let in the fresh air, so all of this was a noisy hullabaloo that calmed me instead of making me anxious. We were moving forward, all had been forgiven, and I hadn’t been cast as a menacing demon preparing to damn them all at the next opportunity.

Hillier was capable of manning the troops for this, as Captain Martin stayed at his desk, making notes in a leatherbound journal and glancing over at me occasionally. I judged him relieved that I was happy, and, frankly, the care he and the crew had given me in the wake of what had happened made me optimistic for my place here amongst them. I still felt unsettled and confused about what had happened. Then again, everyone else probably did as well. The important thing was that everyone but poor Anthony Donatello, God rest his soul, had got out of the chaos alive. I was trying very hard to focus on that.

After a little while, Captain Martin closed his book and said he must go up on deck and check in with Hillier. He suggested I get dressed and take the chickens back to their coop. I could tell their presence in the cabin made him uneasy, and I could see why, as one of them had already shat on the bedclothes. I recalled that I was the one in charge of the room’s cleanliness and decided that the captain’s suggestion had merit.

I pulled on my clothes, still getting used to their strangeness and feeling like someone else. Someone—probably Captain Martin—had placed my shoes beside the chair, so I gritted my teeth and put on socks and shoes. Seriously, what was I becoming? Perhaps appearing civilized and obedient would help the crew to accept me as a benign cabin boy and fucktoy, and not as a conduit of inexplicable supernatural power.

I took Elizabeth and Frances back to the coops and counted to make sure everyone but poor Guinevere, God rest her soul, was still alive and clucking, and hopefully laying eggs. A friendly man with ruddy skin and a limp, called Lancaster, had taken charge of them at Hillier’s orders. I conveyed my appreciation of his care, told him all of their names, quizzed him to make sure he remembered, and made sure he was feeding them properly. His efforts to please me and the genuine concern he had for the animals reassured me.

The captain had implied he would take an hour or so and then meet me back in his cabin for some amusement if I was up for the pleasure. I definitely was, but I had time to spare so decided to go up on deck to get a glimpse of all the activity now that theArrowwas on the move. And also to prove to myself that the men didn’t hate me.

As I emerged from below deck, I noticed a group of them huddled around the railing. One of them looked up and when he saw me, nudged the others, and they all moved away from the railing as if the wood had suddenly exploded. Which was when I realized I’d been standing exactly there when I’d been overcome with the magic.

Fuck.

I frowned and looked at the men. They averted their eyes and pretended to be engaged in conversation. I walked slowly over to the rail where they had been upon my appearance.

There, scorched into the polished wood, were my handprints. I checked my palms, which had lightened to a healthy and normal pink colour. They didn’t hurt and looked to be fully healed.

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