Page 44 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

It was, she thought, a ridiculous amount of rum.

Aside from the piles of fish, the table was laden with seasonings and fresh vegetables.

The siren heard her stomach rumble. She had not eaten since she fled her home and looking at all the fresh food had reminded her belly she needed to eat.

Kitten rolled up her sleeves and hummed a song to herself as she finished piling the fish on a wooden board next to her. Then pulled out a large cutting knife.

“We are on cookin’ duty today. Not my cup of tea, but frankly, this is much better than wha’ the men are doin’ ’bove deck—cleanin’ the ’ead.” She pulled a cleaver from a drawer and dropped the heavy blade on the dead fish separating the neck from the rest of the body. “It all can become a bit tedious at times—the days blendin’ together. But ye should not worry ’bout tha’, ye ’ere for no more than seven days.”

Kitten spoke fast and her accent was as thick as her mother’s. Did she say ‘head?’ Nola asked in her mind.

The siren arched a brow. “What did you mean by the head?” Nola asked innocently.

Kitten snickered, trying to stifle a laugh. “The ’oles in the deck under the bowsprit, lady. The shitters!”

“Oh.” Nola was quiet for a minute.

The captain had a closed-off lavatory in his room. It was not fancy, but it at least had a curtain to give her privacy.

Nola had no time to see where the others went to the bathroom. She did not want to know much after that.

“Um, will we have to clean—”

“Nay,” Kitten said, swishing her hand at Nola. “Not ye, anyway. Mazie and I may be ladies, but the captain treats us like every other buccaneer on this ship,” she explained.

Nola stared at the fish and the kitchen supplies surrounding her.

Kitten snickered. “Judging by tha’ look on ye face, I’m to guess tha’ ye ’ave not done ’ard labor.”

“On the contrary, Kitten, I grew up helping my father on our farm, but cleaning up...a bathroom!” She pointed up towards the deck with a smile on her face and said, “—No, neither of my parents ever asked me to do that.”

Kitten chuckled under her breath. “Ye ready to stop chattin’ ’bout piss and shit and cook some fish?” she asked, hastily pulling out the rest of the panfish and slamming them on the kitchen table.

Nola chuckled and nodded her head.

“Bloody hell!” Their eyes looked up as Mazie stormed into the kitchen. “He had one job! One bloody job!”

Kitten wrinkled her nose. “Hill, again? Wha’ did ’e do now?” her voice pitched.

Mazie folded her arms. “Bless the man’s ’art. I love him dearly, but the captain needs to stop givin’ Hill duties when he knows too well he is goin’ to screw up.” She ran a hand down her face. “I’m surprised that a captain who’s meticulous about every detail on the ship, who is picky about his crew and how we run things, trusts someone who can barely stand on two feet.”

Nola bit the inside of her cheek and stepped back to give Mazie some space. But by then, Mazie was already pacing at the far end of the kitchen, stopping abruptly at a chair, then slumped down, her mouth agape.

“We won’t last five days with what’s left.” Mazie snarled.

Kitten’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. “He didn’t get the water while we were in Zemira, did ’e?”

Raven looked up, shaking her head slowly. “Aye. We are down to one barrel of freshwater. The idiot filled the other ones with rum.”

“Blimey!” Kitten cried, placing her knife down on the counter.

“Mazie,” Nola called before Mazie opened her mouth. “How long will the water last?

Her shoulders shrugged, giving Nola a bitter grin. “Now that you’re here—half a day—maybe less.”

Nola frowned, leaning back against the counter, resting her palms against the cool metal. Mazie pressed her lips together, taking a slow breath.

“Sorry,” Nola said, her voice softening, her gaze falling over her. Then she fell silent, her stomach tightening so hard she felt like puking.

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