Page 12 of Virelai's Hoard
Gadrielle adjusted her posture and her grip with a few firm pokes as she scrubbed, explaining, “Elbows loose, not locked, or you’ll feel it in your back by sundown. And work with your shoulders, not your wrists. I can’t have you injuring yourself on your first fucking day. Again.”
Injuring myself?Gadrielle cared about herform?
Riley blinked at her, then tried again. Soon, the movement started feeling natural rather than punishing, which was when Gadrielle finally stood and walked away. She paused her scrubbing for a breath, following the woman with her eyes. At first, she’d been convinced the task was supposed to be humiliating, to show her place, but the boatswain hadn’t hesitated to get down on her knees with her for no better reason than to prevent Riley from injuring herself.
What was she supposed to make of that?
With a shake of her head, Riley turned back to scrubbing. The work was slow, tedious, and humbling.
The soapy water splashed against the deck, and as she moved forward, inch by inch, her knees became damp and bruised. Despite the adjusted form, the strain in her shoulders, arms and back was quick to settle in, and her fingers soon cramped around the brush. Her one gloved hand was protected from its coarseness, but the other scraped against it with every movement, and the salt water stung.
And the fucking heat.
Riley had thought the weather at sea would be chilly, but she was wrong. Nivros’ and Aelion’s combined heat beat down on her back and heated the wood beneath her until there was no escape from the stifling warmth. Sweat trickled down her back and neck. Was she really expected to work through the midday heat? She’d had it right the first go around. Thiswasmeant to beat her down.
But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
She concentrated on the overwhelming scent of saltwater, soaked into the wood. She breathed the bitter smell of pitch and the damp odor of wet ropes through her nostrils. And she kept scrubbing. Riley didn’t know how long she’d been at it, just that Gadrielle made the rounds more than once, snapping at her whenever she went even ahairagainst the grain. The otherpirates weren’t giving her any breaks, either. She tallied up three jabs about her bony arms, one about how she held the brush, and two pertaining to missed spots. If she got to ten by the end of the day, she’d reward herself with visions of stabbing everyone in their sleep tonight. Because this fucking sucked.
But she persevered, if only out of sheer stubbornness.
A pair of boots planted themselves in front of her just as Riley started considering flinging the cursed brush overboard and jumping right in after it.
“You didn’t do a half-bad job,” Gadrielle said, her tone losing its earlier bite but not its sharpness. “Go stretch. You earned yourself two bells.”
With that, she was gone, and Riley took a deep breath as she uncurled her aching fingers from the brush and sat on her haunches.
Why in the world did she think boarding a pirate ship was a good idea?
A small shadow fell over her. “You Riley?” a young-sounding voice asked, and Riley looked up at the kid.
He stood short and slight and all gangly limbs. Not much older than twelve, probably. His bright green eyes looked at her curiously, and a tightly tied bandana was attempting and failing to contain his wild, copper-red curls. A tiny knife was tucked at his hip, in full view, and he bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for her to say anything.
“Yeah. And you are?”
His hand shot forward in greeting. “Pip!” he said, grinning. “I’m Boarley’s assistant. The cook. He doesn’t talk, but the crew says I talk enough for the both of us!” He thrust his chest out, as if that was an achievement to be proud of. “Captain said to show the new recruits around today, so I’m here to show you around. I already met the others, but you seemed real busy here, so I’ve been waiting. Wouldn’t wanna piss off Gadri. She sneaks mesweets when no one’s looking, so not stealing you away from the deck was the least I could do.”
“Lucky me,” Riley muttered, standing on shaky legs and stretching her back as the kid yammered on. “Alright, Pip. Lead the way.”
“Aight!” the kid clapped his hands, his eyes darting from one place to another as he considered which direction to lead her.
“How about we start with where the food is?” Riley suggested, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat off her forehead. “I’m starving.”
“That’d be the galley,” Pip said, self-importantly. A doubtful look crested on his face. “You en’t allowed to eat outside of mealtimes, captain says, but rules also say you’re supposed to get two meals and you haven’t eaten yet since you got on the ship…” His forehead crumpled in a thoughtful frown, then he looked at her suspiciously. “Have you?”
Riley frowned back. She didn’t evendoanything yet for everyone to be so suspicious of her. “I haven’t.” A fierce growl resounded from her stomach, supplying her with helpful evidence.
Pip nodded. “Well, you’ve been working hard, and we gotta follow the rules. The galley it is!” His arms gesticulated animatedly as they walked. “You’ll probably be asked to come help me there one of these days. Prepping food and cleaning after a whole ship isa lotof work for just the two of us.”
That might’ve been the only promising news of the day. Food duty? Surely no one would notice if a few scraps would mysteriously go missing.
The boy stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her intensely. Or, more accurately, to the bag slung over her shoulders. Riley’s fist tightened around the strap.
“Is it true you have a pet rat with you?” he asked, then pouted dramatically. “I overslept this morning and missed the wholething. And I’m not sure if the others made it up for laughs or not. They do that sometimes.”
Riley cocked her head to the side. If he pouted aboutthat,then the pirates were sure going easy on him. “Yeah, it’s true,” she said, smiling. She slid her hand inside the bag, rousing Patch from his sleep with a gentle caress before prodding him to climb up her arm and on her shoulder. “Pip, meet Patch.”
The kid stared at the rat with a mix of wonder and disgust. He dropped his voice in a loud whisper, “Did he really…”
