Water & Storm Country

I give him a dagger-filled glance, but Ican’t hold it when I see the curved-sausage smile on his fat lips.“You know, I have some experience repairing sails,” I say, “fromone of my apprenticeships on The Merman’s Daughter. My fatherinsisted that to be a captain one day I needed to learn everyaspect of a ship’s management.”

“It would be unusual for a lieutenant to beseen repairing sails,” Barney says.

“Is there another?”

“Unfortunately, the sad state of the sails isa direct result of an unfortunate accident involving the previoussail climber. While performing his work he fell to his death. Hisbreath stank of grog.”

“I must train a replacement immediately.Would that be acceptable to the men?”

Barney winks. “Given the need, I suspect thatwill pass the men’s scrutiny. Did you have someone in mind?”

I chew on my lip, wondering whether the wordsbetween my teeth are really as foolish as my brain is telling methey are. “The job is dangerous and I will not risk the life of oneof the sailors. A bilge rat will do, someone good at climbing, likethat nasty girl who’s always cleaning the masts and glaring ateveryone. Bring her to my cabin when the sun is at its peak.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Barney says, the a

~~~

“Get the scorch offa me!” The shout is justoutside my door and I can’t help but cringe when I hear it. It’sher. Jade.

And from the sounds of it, she’s putting upone helluva a bloody fight.

I’mafoolI’mafoolI’mafool. What was Ithinking?

There’s a heavy thud on the door, and Isuspect it’s from Jade’s foot, rather than one of my men’s hands.“Come in!” I shout.

The door is thrown open and a pair ofsailors—Sid and Monty—carry her in, trying to subdue her thrashingarms and legs. Sid’s lip is cut and dribbling blood and Monty’s eyeis already showing purple from what I expect was a well-placedkick, for it was he who apparently drew the short straw and wasforced to carry her legs.

“You!” Jade screams when she sees me, and Iwant to step back at the ferocity of her verbal assault, but Ican’t. Instead I step forward.

“Leave her to me,” I say to the men.

“Sir, I don’t think—” Sid starts to say, hisknuckles white from pi

“Leave her,” I repeat.

When Sid hesitates for a moment, Jade twistsher head back and tries to bite him. He yelps, dropping her.Because Monty is still clutching her legs, she tumbles face firston the wooden floor. Monty drops her legs and they both scuttle outof the room like crabs returning to their holes.

The door slams and I’m alone with her.

I reach down to help Jade to her feet, butshe slaps my hand away, pushes up, kneels, and stands; shoves meback with a strength that’s disco

The backs of my legs hit my bed and I sitdown.

“What do you want with me?” Jade says,accusation in her voice. What does she think I’m going to do toher? Her eyes are flitting from me to the bed and back again. Ohno. She thinks I want to…that I’m going to try to…

“No,” I say. “It’s not what you think. I onlywanted to—”

“To what? To make me another of yourpossessions? It’s bad enough that I’m chained to this ship. To bechained to you would be ten times worse.”

“No,” I say again, thinking of how to getthis conversation back on track, if it ever was at all, but findingmyself utterly at a loss for words.

“No what?” she says, glaring, her hands onher hips. “You have two big men drag me down here and you’resurprised I’m jumping to conclusions?”

“I only wanted to talk to you. Like when youclimbed the quarterdeck stairs.”

“And you slapped me and threw me in thebrig.”

“You left me no choice,” I say, a

“You’re just like the others,” she says. Likewho? Like my father? Like Hobbs? Am I? Should I be?

“Then why did you tell me your name?”

The question closes her lips, stops whateverretort or accusation that was flying up from her throat. She takesa deep breath, swallowing it like a bite of gruel, closes her eyesas if remembering something.

Eyes still closed, she says, “Why did yousave my life?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

Her eyes flash open. “You should’ve let medie. There’s no life for me here.”

The despair in her voice surprises me. A girlso young, so seemingly full of life, shouldn’t sound like that. Itreminds me of someone. My mother, I realize with a jerk.Before the accident she had started sounding like that, more andmore with each passing day.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” I manage to getout.

She sucks in another deep breath. “Why am Ihere?” she asks, but this time there’s no accusation in her voiceand she sounds almost defeated.

“I wanted to—”

“I know, I know, you wanted to burnin’ talkto me, but why else? What’s the cover story?”

“I’m going to teach you to repair sails,” Isay.

She raises an eyebrow, as if surprised. “Andwhat if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll leave you alone forever,” Isay.

She lifts a hand to her brown forehead,massages her skin. Seconds tick by. “When do we start?” sheasks.

I can’t hide my smile this time.“Immediately,” I say.

Chapter Twenty

Sadie

Nothing my motherput me through in training is as hard as taming a horse.

Especially when the horse is Passion, livingup to her namesake with every stomp, every gallop, every barelythwarted effort to escape. The stables are nothing more than achallenge to her. Thrice now she’s smashed through her gate, comecharging out of the stables, knocking stable boys and Riders out ofher way, snorting and whi

And thrice we’ve brought her back.

Growing up training with my mother, I dreamedmany times of the day I’d receive my horse, how I’d jump upon herand gallop off across the plains, wind streaming through my hairand her mane, co

I haven’t even thought about riding Passionyet, and it’s been several weeks.

Sometimes she seems calm, almost tame, likewhen she drinks from the water trough, but then I blink and she’skicking the trough over, spilling a lake of water through herstall, smashing into the wooden sides as if her freedom takesprecedence over the wholeness of her body.

Freedom is an illusion.

Despite the silence that’s grown like apregnant raincloud between my father and me, his words fill my mindmore and more.

Listen to your father, for he is wise.

Is my mother right? Were her last words ofadvice more than just words?

To make matters worse, Remy is already ridinghis horse—a fully black stallion he’s named Bolt—the first of thenew Riders to do so. Around and around they run, Remy whooping andhollering like they’ve been riding together their whole lives.

I look away from him and focus on Passion,who’s straining against the six ropes anchored deep in the groundthat I’m using to keep control of her. If I had some help, I know Icould tame her, but unfortunately, a Rider taming their horse is asolitary endeavor, part of the bonding process.

I approach her, hand extended in peace.“Shhh,” I say when she snorts, a sound full of heavy air and awarning. “I only want to talk to you.”

A change to my method is needed. I’ve triedbrawn, pulling her with the ropes, futilely fighting her weight andstrength. I’ve tried coercion, offering small morsels like applesand carrots to convince her to perform small tasks, like walking ashort distance, or bowing her head, or strutting in a circle, butshe seems immune to bribery. Most of the time she ends up knockingme over and taking the treats anyway.