Page 57 of Of Vows and War: Special Edition
“What important things would that be?” I asked, wiping my hands down my skirts as I pushed back my shoulders. I wouldstand tall, even if they might push me off their ship in retribution for whatever wrongs I had committed against them.
Once more, the captain began signing, a smile on her face the entire time.
“She says that she wants to know more about you. Go sit with her. She has ink and paper, you need no one else for whatever it is the two of you will discuss.” Bek abruptly turned, patting Perdita on the shoulder and then whistling as she strolled away.
“Well then, I guess it is just me and you. Should we paint our nails and eat sweets as we gossip about all the fucked up things that happened throughout our lives?” I asked the captain, leaning against the ledge of her ship. She smirked in answer before pivoting and walking away, waving a hand over her shoulder for me to follow.
My steps against the dark wood were drowned out by the sound of breaking waves. I felt my stomach roll and my mouth water, nausea threatening me with each jolt of the ship. But soon we were at the railing that brought us not below deck, but above to a second level. We took the steps quickly, stopping at the sight of a door with the word “captain” engraved in swirling gold script. Fancy, for a merchant. Neither of the other two ships I had been on had that.
We stepped through, and I was met with the most brazen quarters I had ever seen. Gold littered the space. Not just on the furniture either, but actual coins in wooden chests mingling with gems so large they made my breath hitch. When Captain Harligold finally turned around, I spoke.
“I have never claimed myself to be a genius—in fact I think I am an idiot more often than not—but something is telling me you are not a merchant.” She stared at my lips, shaking her head with a breathy chuckle when I finished speaking. And then she sat down, pulling paper, a pot of ink, and a golden quill from thetop drawer of her wooden desk against the wall. Making my way to her, I was met with the distinct scent of…Lian.
Yes, I could have sworn that it was the smell of spring blooms and crisp air that invaded my senses.
The scratching of quill to paper stole my focus, and my eyes darted over Perdita’s shoulder as she wrote.
You are far less scary than the stories claim you to be.
I laughed, my head falling forward. When she pressed the quill into my hand and pulled another wooden chair towards me, I gladly accepted. But as she placed a fresh sheet of paper before me, I found I had a better idea.
Oh, you have not seen anything yet, Captain.
Glee consumed me like fire upon wood as she visibly tensed, her body rigid and the faintest taste of sweet fear upon my tongue.
You can talk back, you know. It is hard at first, but if you focus on me, on shouting those thoughts of yours into the void, I promise I will hear you.
There was something odd about her mind. Bleak and foreboding despite the brilliance of her aura. She was bright and exotic on the outside, like someone who had traveled so many places they became something entirely new. A star that fell across galaxies.
But inside, she was the universe itself, a mass of endless darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. Perdita had suffered in this lifetime, that much I was certain of. Her quill once more scraped against the paper, stealing my attention again.
I cannot speak.
Quirking a brow, I looked over to her, catching her hazel eyes.
Okay, I am not that big of an idiot. I realize that. But I amnot asking you to speak aloud, I am telling you to think. Clearly you are capable of that seeing as you somehow tricked the king and queen into believing you a mere merchant.
My gaze flicked to the pile of what had to have been stolen coin and gems. That, or Perdita was trading in something nefarious. A crackling choke of laughter escaped her, a fist hitting the wood of her desk.
I feel as though I should be offended you have not heard of me.
Oh, I have heard of your name, though I am half convinced I imagined it all. Do you have a relative with pink hair and a nasty habit of trying to kill princesses?
Perdita stilled, her smile falling. I wanted to take back what I had said. Her name had been familiar, the image of O’Malley Harligold dead at my feet at the front of my mind. But I must have been wrong, because she shook her head, offering a weak version of the smile that had lit up her face before.
I have no family but my crew.
Well, me either really. Look at us, bonding over trauma.
Her laugh once more rang through the space, making my shoulders relax. At least I had not entirely ruined a nice conversation.
I knew I would like you, brain crusher. Maybe you can join my crew.
I fear I have a weak stomach and a fondness for comfort, or else I would take you up on that offer. Now tell me, what was it you actually wanted to speak about?
Sitting back and crossing my arms, I awaited her response. Her mind raced, images speeding by so quickly that I struggled to keep up. But again I was reminded of Lian as a fleeting memory of blue hair came and went.
I like order, Princess Asher. I am, above all else, a plotter. A planner. There is security in making sure you are prepared foreverything. But finding you in that apothecary offered me little choice but to be spontaneous. I hate it. Still, I can rectify such a thing. We sail to Isle Element, where I have a feeling things will become interesting. I want your reassurance that you are on our side.
