Page 32 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

Nola took off running as fast as she could, and once her toes felt the edge of the dock, she leapt. Raising her hands high in the air, her fingers caught the last of the rope. She let out a sigh. But as she beamed, her right hand lost its grip. Her bag started slipping from her shoulder.

“Shit!” she cursed before the tip of her middle finger caught it, but barely. Her left hand clenched tightly to the rope and she climbed to the top. The siren swung her body and flung the heavy bag over the railing but nearly lost her grip again.

“No!” She felt beads of sweat running down her forehead.

Once both her hands held steady, she took three calming breaths before pulling herself up. Nola leaned back against the wooden balustrade, waiting for her nerves to settle before finding a place to hide.

She tiptoed on the deck towards the back of the ship, found a small latch, and pulled it up. She slunk into the hallway, closing the door behind her, latching it, and then looked around in the silence. The old cedar floor squeaked as the waves wobbled the ship—saltwater leaked from the ceiling onto the already damp walls.

Nola had never been in a pirate’s ship before. It was mesmerizing, but she had no time to look around as much as she wanted to. Before Nola opened the first door, she stopped to listen to the music but was not sure where it was coming from; it came from somewhere below the main deck. After closing what looked like the captain’s quarters, she carefully opened every other door as she worked her way down the small and cramped hallway. She found a dry place to hide—a supply closet.

The girl hurried into the closet, eyeing a mop, a few metal shelves, a bucket, sponges, and old dirty rags.

Great! A cleaning closet,she thought, disgusted.

The pungent stench of mold and decay stung her senses. She had worked on her town’s farmland when she was younger, so Nola had had her share of nauseating smells, but what she smelt in that closet was different.

Nola grabbed some of the rags and stuffed them into the bucket, closing the lid over it, and perched herself in the corner, pulling her knees up against her chest. Nola felt the sea rock the ship from under her. She had to close her eyes. It was going to be the longest night of her life.

Bringing back magic comes with a price, she thought.

As that thought resonated with her, she leaned against the wall, settling in for the night, her ears focusing on the clattering sounds in the room. With her head pounding, exhaustion took over. But her eyes shot open as she recognized the unmistakable sound of guards nearing the pier. Horses trotted closer and closer. Chiming bells warned those in Brecken Terrace—they were coming for her.

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