Maeve
It was full dark when I woke up, the room still and empty. Moonlight was drifting in through three circular windows on the wall above my head, long beams of pale light casting shadows across the room.
I rose and stretched; the superficial wounds on my skin were gone, and any soreness from the fall had been nded.
What now?
I didn’t know my way to the infirmary, but I wasn’t technically a prisoner. I decided to wander for a bit and try to find Cleo, maybe even sothing to eat.
The ship was massive and easy to get lost in. The hallways were narrow, no wider than the average man’s shoulders in so spots. It was dimly lit, too, but I noticed electric lights along the ceiling that were not in use. I wondered why they were using sails to move the ship instead of engines. The boat was silent, ghostlike, as it moved in the waves.
After an hour of exploration, I finally found the infirmary. It was situated toward the bottom of the ship, not quite the lowest level but close enough to feel chilly and claustrophobic. There were no windows down here, not a single one. I placed my hand on the wall as I made my way toward the entrance of the infirmary, knowing that on the other side of the wall was the sea.
The infirmary was just a room, a small one, lit by a single lantern. There was a small nook in one corner, separated by a curtain. I could hear the doctor snoring as I ca into the light, smiling and nodding at Cleo, who had looked up from the book resting on her lap.
“How is she?” I asked, sitting down in a narrow, uncomfortable chair next to her.
“Fine, I think. The doctor thinks it was a concussion, a... bad one, probably. But he stitched her up, and she seems to be comfortable, at least. We won’t really know until she wakes up. My midwifery skills only go so far.”
“I’m sorry, Cleo. I tried—”
Cleo took my hands in hers, brushing her knuckles against my fingers. “Don’t fret, Maeve. This wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was my fault, wasn’t it? If what Troy said about Alpha Damian is true?”
“No, darling. Please don’t think that way. All of this was out of your control.”
I sighed, leaning back against the chair and resting my head against the wall. We sat in silence for a long while, Cleo eventually falling asleep sitting upright in her chair. I watched Myla breathe, her chest rising and falling in a smooth rhythm.
I thought about opening up my skin again and giving her my blood, but stopped myself. What good had it done before? Troy was an absolute ss before Cleo had been able to align his broken bones and pop his shoulder back in place. I had just been able to ease his pain temporarily, I think.
I stood, closing the door of the infirmary behind as I walked into the narrow, chilly hallway, feeling along the walls until I reached the stairwell. I walked up, and up, and up until I reached the floor where my room was, Troy’s room, but I stopped before turning the corner to go back. Up the stairs was the entrance to the main deck, and I felt the urge to push open the doors and breathe in the air.
But I didn’t want to run into Troy, especially if he was alone. I didn’t trust myself around him. I wanted him as much as I had before I found out who he really was. But I also loathed him, fiercely, and I knew if given the opportunity I would toss him over the railing of the ship into the water below and like it.
But I didn’t have the strength to do that right now. I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I had slept for a few hours at the most. I was sick to my stomach with grief, with fear.
I wanted my parents. I wanted to go ho.
“You thought you had it rough before, huh?” I whispered, thinking back on my ti in the castle. Suddenly, a thought struck , piercing through so intensely that I nearly toppled over. I held onto the wall, bending over by the waist with one hand pressed against my stomach.
Oh, Goddess. I could very likely be pregnant!
That was the entire reason I was in Valoria. I was supposed to give the Drogomor pack an heir. I was supposed to be Luna, at least until that child was grown and ready to rule.
And now, what would I have? Not the heir to Drogomor, but Troy’s child. How could he do this to ?
And what about Ernest and Gemma? How long had they known about Troy’s real identity? I felt angry, my hands clenching as I leaned against the wall for support.
But then I envisioned Ernest with Gemma clutched to his chest, walking out into the field of grass. His dream of losing his mate had co to fruition. My anger at them didn’t matter. Gemma was dead. Ernest was likely dead as well. They were gone.
“Are you alright, miss?”
I turned my head to the voice, seeing a young man standing in the hallway near the stairwell, a lantern in one hand and bundle of sothing in the other.
“Yes, I—”
“A little seasick?”
I nodded, although it was a lie.
“You’ll get your sea legs soon enough. Happens to the best of us!” He tilted his head toward the stairwell. “The galley’s just downstairs. I can show you, get you so crackers or sothing—”
“Yes, please,” I said hurriedly, my stomach tightening at the ntion of food.
“Great, co with ,” he said as I followed him down the stairs. He turned his face to , smiling. “I’m Pete, by the way. Young Pete.”
“Why Young Pete and not just Pete?”
“Because there’s an Old Pete on the ship already, but he doesn’t like being called that. He goes by Peter, actually. But it doesn’t matter. You can call whatever you want.”
“Okay, Pete,” I said with a little laugh. He smiled up at as I descended the stairs, then motioned for to follow him through a darkened archway that opened up to a large room with wooden tables and chairs in neat rows, illuminated by the light of his lamp.
“I’m not supposed to be in here, honestly,” he breathed as we crossed the room and entered the kitchen. “I lost my privileges, you could say.”
“Privileges?”
“I got hungry one night,” he began, opening a tall cabinet and pulling a box of crackers from the top shelf. “Ca down and made myself a little treat. I found so salt pork in the pantry and ate it, and it was delicious. In my defense I didn’t know it was the last of it, and we had nearly three weeks until we made port again. Oh, man. Troy looked like he wanted to toss from the ship when he found out.”
“Hmm...” I tapped my finger on the counter as he rummaged, wondering if I should start asking him the burning questions I had about Troy.
“Do you want so beer?”
“No, I can’t—” I said quickly, but stopped myself before I said anything I didn’t an to say aloud.
He shrugged. “Better drink so water, at least. Here—” He handed a large glass jug, the amber glass reflecting in the lamplight. “Take it up to your room with you. We all have one.”
“What is it?” I asked, holding the heavy jug up to the light.
“A growler, they’re called. It’s just water, unless you want sothing stronger. We don’t have much ti in the galley during the day. You’ll find these all over the decks, though. Just... uh, tie a ribbon on the handle or sothing, that way you know which one is yours.”
“Okay...” I said quietly, setting the growler on the counter as he continued to rifle through the pantry. He handed a basket of snacks: dried fruit, crackers, and a few pieces of jerky.
“You shouldn’t eat too much right away, it’ll make the sea sickness worse. Just a few bites at a ti, Okay?”
I nodded, resisting the urge to smile at him. I could eat an entire roast with all the fixings right now, by myself. A few crackers and a dried apricot weren’t nearly enough. But Pete seed like a kind man. I was thankful for not only the food but the company.
“Do you know where we’re headed?” I asked as he closed the cabinets.
He shrugged. “Open water, that’s all I know. Have to wait for this all to blow over—”
“We don’t have a destination?” Panic rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down, trying to maintain my composure.
Pete eyed curiously, then shrugged again, leaning against the counter. “Do you have sowhere you need to be in a hurry, miss?”
“Ho, ideally.”
“Where is ho for you?”
“Winter—” I paused, pursing my lips. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything...
“Winter Forest? No way!” Pete looked about five years younger as he said it, his eyes lighting up. “Northern lady then, huh? I heard the won outnumber the n up north. Is that true?”
“I—I don’t actually know—”
“I’ve always wanted to go. Always. Ma said, well, she said I need to find a mate down south, close to ho. But there’s a lot of competition—”
“I don’t think that’s how mates work—”
“And I said, Ma, the isles are small and—”
“You’re from the Isles?” Another lump ford in my throat, fear tightening my chest.
“Yeah, I am,” he said, biting into a piece of dried fruit. “From a little island near Papeno. It’s called Drifter’s Rock.”
“Are you part of Poldesse?”
He nearly choked on his fruit, shaking his head. “Oh, no!”
“Then what pack do you belong to?” My voice was harsher than I ant it to be, and the young man looked slightly taken aback.
“No pack, miss.”
“No pack? You’re a rogue, then?”
“No, not exactly.”
“I don’t understand?”
“If that’s you in my kitchen Petey, I’ll tan your hide and throw you to the sharks!” ca a booming voice from behind a door on the other side of the kitchen.
Pete’s face flushed, then he motioned toward the door back to the dining room, taking two long strides and holding it open for .
“I told you I lost my privileges,” he whispered and winked, walking briskly ahead of while we headed back to the stairwell, our stolen goodies clutched in our hands.
“I left my growler—”
“No bother, you can get it at breakfast. Olly is a an old man between the hours of eight in the evening and six in the morning. I wouldn’t go back, if I were you.”
“Olly?”
“The cook. The king of the kitchen. King of the ship, in my opinion. Captain Keaton doesn’t ss with him, either.”
“Oh, noted,” I said shortly as I reached the stairs. Pete stood at the railing, shifting his weight nervously. “Are you coming up?”
“No, I bunk with the rest of the crew down here. You go to bed, miss. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”
He walked down the hallway, his lantern disappearing from view and leaving shrouded in total darkness as I made my way back to my room.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
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