Page 29 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

“Is this the last of it, Captain?” Kitten asked as she heaved the last crate of fresh produce onto the ship. Finding healthy food to eat in Zemira was nearly impossible those days. The pirates had to pay a few extra coins for the merchants to sell them that much.

Lincoln nodded. “We’re still waitin’ for Ardley; he’s pickin’ up medical supplies from Doctor Bailey.” He turned to Hill. “You fill the water barrels?”

The still drunk pirate stood quickly, staggering a bit. “Aye! Six of ’em, Captain,” Hill replied sluggishly.

Boots reached out his hand for Mazie, helping her up from Jacob’s ladder. Once on deck, Mazie pointed towards the East.

“Captain, are you seein’ this?” she asked.

Lincoln glanced at the horizon and saw the dark, threatening clouds rolling in. Glowing white lightning hit the water, brightening up the sky around it. The waves picked up, rocking against the ship, and Lincoln knew if they did not leave within that next hour, they would be stuck on the shore, riding out the storm.

The sound of the rain hitting the deck was pleasant, but storms often deceived the sailors. When rippling waves started rolling over the calming sea, any experienced sailor knew what the near future held—it was a matter of being prepared. Most ocean storms were worse closer to the shore. However, there were others that if the ship was too far from dry land, a crew had to hold on tight to the mast.As a ship captain, the main worry was for a wave to crash against the broadside—for it would sink even the most stable of ships.

“Time to turn in early and sleep below deck,” Boots suggested. “If there’s a storm comin’, we should probably go lookin’ for Big Red.”

A glint of irritation shone in the captain’s eyes. Ardley’s lack of punctuality was wearing on him. That pirate never hesitated to engage in small talk with anyone for longer than necessary.

“Nay. We’ll give him another hour, and then I’ll be the one lookin’ for him.”Lincoln turned to the crew, barking orders, “All hands hoay!” he shouted.

Mazie turned to the crew. “You heard the captain! All hands on deck!”

The buccaneers quickly began to ready the ship seconds before the captain felt a raindrop hit the tip of his nose. The storm was coming sooner than he predicted.

“Batten down the hatches!” Lincoln shouted. “Everyone below deck!”

The storm was about to hit, and it was going to hit hard.

* * *

The crew turned in for the night—all but the captain. Lincoln stared out into the city and placed his hands on the polished cedar rail, not caring about raindrops coming down and soaking his night clothes.

Aside from a few flickering lights across the pier, he could not see much beyond the dock. Lincoln turned on his heel, walked to the mainmast, reached into Ardley’s coat, and pulled out a pipe and a box of dry matches. Then he peacefully walked to the back of the ship and sought shelter under the stern deck’s canopy as he lit the pipe and inhaled. Lincoln’s elbows rested against the railing as he filled his lungs and then blew it out slowly, releasing a thick cloud of smoke. The Sybil Curse’s captain did not smoke, not since he was a young lad, but that night he would. The scent of the tobacco wafted in the air, mingling with the filth of the city streets.

He would not miss Brecken Terrace, but his thoughts went back to the girl he had met that afternoon—Nola. His pulse jarred in his throat when the image of her face flashed in his mind. She was someone he was leaving behind. Brecken was not the place for a girl like that.

And she has my pistol.Captain Lincoln bared his teeth at that thought.

The king’s plan to rid Zemira of magic and everything else that made it beautiful was finally coming to an end. The once gorgeous land was more dead than it was alive. Lincoln saw it when they walked the streets that day, and that girl—the blood on her shirt was not hers, but she looked far from someone who would do anyone harm—but then again, she had stolen from him.

Those pretty eyes had fooled the handsome pirate. She was only a thief—a bloody good one at that. Lincoln would let it slip if he did not love that pistol as much as he did. He never had someone rob him from right under his nose.

The captain’s eyes hardened. He found it hard to believe he was fretting for a woman he did not know.

One thing was sure, whoever Nola was, Lincoln ached to unravel every dark secret she held hidden. Every mystery encompassing her devoured his thoughts. The moment he had seen her in the marketplace, the desire to have her was irreversible.

“Captain?” he heard Mazie say, sneaking up under the canopy from behind him, her clothes not soaked like his.

Lincoln looked over his shoulder. “You should get back below deck, sailor!” he joked.

She huffed. “Always lookin’ out for others, but not yourself.” The side of her lip twisted up. “You still thinkin’ about that girl, aren’t you?” Mazie asked in a smooth voice.

A frown tightened his face. “Nay!” he said, his words brusque. “She is the last person I want to think about.”

Mazie glared at him skeptically. “Sure! Whatever you say, Captain.”

His eyes looked to her briefly, then back to the sea. “Doesn’t matter. All she saw was a blatherin’ fool, givin’ her the perfect target to steal from. I’ll know better next time I see a pretty face like that.”

Talking to Mazie about the girl at the tavern and how his lungs warmed as he thought of her was the last thing he wanted to do. A corner of his mouth lifted, and he ran his hands gingerly through his wavy hair while the ship rocked back and forth. He drummed his fingers over the edge.

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