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The gangplank bowed under my weight, and I held my skirt in my hands, studying the way the light shifted over the fabric. Purples and blues and greens swirling over its black surface. I made straight for the cabin the captain appointed me, locked the door, and tie by tie, I yanked the gown from my body, peeling away the vines and feathers like they were an old skin. A lump sat in my throat as I folded it carefully and set it safely at the end of the cot.
The twine burned my fingers as I tore it from the folded trousers and tunic. They’d been made to fit me. My fingers bumped over the little gold buttons down the back of the tunic. It was designed to be opened to make space for my wings.
I forced the tunic on, when clanging rang through the side of the ship. A tolling bell. A low, eerie horn reverberated through the air, pulling my muscles taut with its warning. I ran from my cabin, out onto the deck, where the crew was frantic. They hurried to retie ropes that they’d already undone. They looped the mooring line back around the cleat. Even the docks below were clearing, people ru
The ship’s crew was starting down the gangplank. “What’s going on?” I asked a sailor, pulling her arm to halt her. Her cheeks were sun-weathered, freckled, and lined.
“Enemy ships,” she said, inclining her head out toward the horizon.
I had to squint, but I went deathly still when I saw them.
Those familiar smudges.
Those red sails.
Serafi warships.