Page 46 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

The crew’s voyage to Westin took them nearly a day and a half. Lincoln knelt where the shore met a grassy field and let out a long sigh. Then, gripping firmly to the lush greenery between his fingers, he pressed his forehead against the ground. The ramble and chanteys of his crew as they descended the canoe muffled as he focused on the peacefulness of the wavy grass. Then, when Lincoln came back to his knees, Nola noticed the solace in his eyes. He longed to see something real?—something beautiful. She knelt with him, placing her hand over his in a bold gesture. When Lincoln chose to not pull back, she relaxed her shoulders, allowing herself to sink in the warmth of their touch.

Why is he making me feel this way?Nola thought.

Her feelings were awfully confusing to her. She had only known Captain Lincoln for such a short time, but what she felt, especially at that moment, made her heart flutter. Just watching his eyes change to pure joy at the near sight of a plant was like looking at a small child staring into his mother’s eyes.

He is so charmed,the siren thought, not wanting to look away.

“What does this feel like to you?” Nola finally brought herself to ask.

At first, the pirate did not answer, just gazed at the green grass, running his hands gently over the prickly texture.

“A dream,” he answered after a long pause. His tone was soft and serene, almost like the quiet whistle of the wind before the storm. “It feels like hope, Nola.”

Hope. The one thing she tried so desperately to cling to because it was all she had left. The hope to make it to the Fae and save her people. The hope that someday, the life Lincoln held between his fingers would flourish again on her own land and save her people.

The meadow stretched along the shore, thousands of feet in each direction; it almost looked endless. A wall rose several feet tall along the shoreline until it reached an entrance. The towering bronze gates were covered in long, radiant–green vines climbing to the top arch, with budding rosewood-colored flowers lining the edges.

Nola felt the urge to cry as she admired the captivating sight. She had seen colorful vegetation in paintings—never so close, and with her own eyes. Nothing compared to seeing it for the first time before her, to touch and smell.

Nola spun around to watch Mazie approaching the gate. She linked her fingers around the latch, but it was locked. She squinted up and noticed a dark black crow sat atop the gate, looking down at her?—glaring even. The black-haired pirate swallowed and stepped back. She then moved over as Lincoln walked past her, fiddling with the lock himself.

“It won’t open, Captain,” she explained. “It’s not as if I have the key.”

Lincoln leaned forward, his forehead pressing between the bars of the gate. “Harry,” he shouted. Right then, Nola noticed a chubby man leaning up against a tree a hundred yards away, sitting on his rear. He looked as if he was lost in a sleepless slumber. “Harry! Get your ass over here and open the damn gate.”

Nola watched the burly man with a full beard stifle a yawn with his fist, then narrowed in on Lincoln; his eyes grew.

“Over here,” Lincoln shouted again, waving his hand through the gate to make sure the man had seen him. The man jumped to his feet and scurried over to the gate, tripping on a few rocks along the way.

I cannot believe they are still here,the captain thought.

“Lincoln!” he called cheerfully. “What are you doing here? This is a nice surprise!” He looked over Lincoln’s shoulder. “You and your crew haven’t been eaten by sirens yet?”

A jolly smile pulled at Lincoln’s lips. Nola, on the other side, when she heard the man say siren out loud, her shoulders perked, and her body stiffened. Because the captain had stayed focused on the bearded man, the change in Nola’s demeanor went unnoticed. She felt uncomfortable as the man approached the gate.

Then Lincoln said playfully, “We aren’t taken down that easily, Harry.” He gestured to his crew. “I’ve acquired quite the valiant and brave crew of hearties these last ten years.”

The man huffed. “Well, look at that. Has it really been that long?” He scratched his head. “It feels as if it was only yesterday you snatched up Mazie and took off to the sea.” The odd man smiled widely. “Well, time sure has passed by us all, hasn’t it?”

Lincoln nodded, dismissing the man’s comment, then shifted his body, opening a path for the crew. The man looked at the dark-eyed pirate—she swallowed, her head hanging low.

“Mazie, I can’t believe it. Look at you, all grown up.” He held out his hands as if wanting to draw her in for a hug.

She finally met his eyes. “Am I welcomed here, Harry?” she asked shyly, not giving the man what he expected.

The man dropped his hands and gave her a quizzical look, his bushy eyebrows pulling together, creating a large wrinkle between his eyes.

“What in the—” Harry threw his hands up, “—you honestly believe your mother won’t be thrilled to see you?”

Nola’s lips parted. The realization hitting her that Westin was Mazie’s home—at least, used to be.

“Come, dear, she’ll be hard to find today with it being the Westin Harvest Festival. We have had ships coming and going all morning. The best one, yet.”

Nola stepped closer to the man. “What happens during the Westin Harvest?”

He squinted at her as if everyone should know about the festival and said, “Well, aren’t you a pretty lady. Come here.” And opened his arms wide, gesturing his fingers his way.

Nola kept her feet pinned to the ground. The man was a hugger, and she most certainly was not.

---