Page 71 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

“I would never want you to,” she explained, realizing the way her words could have been misinterpreted. She was speaking about herself—not him.

“What’s wrong?” Lincoln asked, his forehead puckered, seemingly sensing her mood.

She inhaled a sharp breath, her thoughts muddled as she fought to get the words out. “Lincoln, I need to tell you something—”

“Captain!” Mazie shouted across the deck, gesturing to Big Red. They turned to where he sat, his body slumping against the mast.

“Ardley doesn’t look so great,” she said. “We really should be searchin’ for land. We need drinkin’ water.”

“We could always drink each other’s piss!” Boots shouted.

Kitten rammed her elbow into his rib. “Why ye always so crude?”

He wheezed. “The bloody hell, woman! I’m serious, my love.” Boots pressed his hand against his ribcage. “My throat is already parched by drinkin’ all night.”

Ardley cleared his throat, sitting up a bit. “We should get to it,” he said weakly, “We need a plan. Whatever we have left will only last us a few more days.”

“Then perhaps we all best stop drinkin’, instead,” Kitten said. “It’s makin’ our thirst worse.”

Mazie stood abruptly, grabbing Lincoln’s mug that sat abandoned next to the helm.

“I’d rather drink Hill’s piss than stop drinkin’,” she said, knocking back what was left. She used her tongue to lick the rim after she saw it was empty. “Fuck! Where’s the barrel?”

Hill grabbed his crotch. “Too far of a walk, lassie. Bring that mug over here, Mazie; I’ve got a ragin’ fire hose ready for ye.”

“Nay,” Lincoln said, waving his hand at Hill to sit back down. “No one is drinkin’ nobody’s piss.” He released his hold on Nola. “How much is left?” he asked Mazie.

Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Nothin’, Captain. There’s nothin’ left.” She glanced at Ardley again. “The Eastland Forest is still four days away. We won’t survive without water.”

“Aye,” the captain said.

Nola lowered her brow and brought her arms around her waist. Lincoln looked defeated, and that alone caused her stomach to twist in knots.

He sat on the deck, planting his elbows on his knees, and massaged his temples, trying to come up with something. A tinge of apprehension shone in his eyes.

“There’s one other city before we reach the Fae, but they are known to kill pirates. We can’t all leave the ship, just in case somethin’ fouls up and they attack. And they will attack for blood.”

“Bloody ’ell, Captain,” Kitten spat, “What kind of a place is this?”

Mazie placed a hand on his shoulder. “Captain, forgive me, but I’ve sailed with you for almost ten years now,” she said, “and there’s nothin’ between here and the Eastland Forest.”

The Sybil Curse’s captain looked dubious about his own plan. But they had no other choice.

“Nothin’ you can see, Mazie.”

The black-eyed pirate dropped her hand as he stepped back. He searched a pocket in the inside of his vest, taking out an old, rusty compass. The artifact pointed East.

Here we go,he thought.

“…But this ship is about to go through one hell-of-a-journey to get to it.”

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