Chapter Two – Part 1 – The Damned Boat To Yeun
They had sailed the following morning, on the first tide of the day out of Ckuien Penance. With so little time to reconcile themselves to the journey, Mireya found she was already missing the small, comfortable spaces of the Sword and Shield, and that she did not like the open ocean one bit. It turned and changed angles far too quickly, and even with Kintere’s sparse advice – keep your eyes on the boat, stay low to the ground and so on – she found her eyes drawn to the far-off horizon, which eventually meant she would loose her previous meal into the depths and be forced to go and scavenge for food once more. The first day had passed slowly that way, as had the second and now, at the end of the third, she finally found she was nearly accustomed to the constant swaying. She had been just unsettled enough around noon to refuse Kintere’s further aid, which had sent the big man lumbering down to the depths of the hold, where he had stayed for the duration.
Now she was watching the night, arms wrapped around a narrow waist, curling into her flaring hips. The rough blanket around her shoulders scratching her skin, but it was nothing compared to the sting of the salt-waves on her face. The short delicate framed wraithlike figure stood at the front of the boat, lit by the pale light of the stars to look like a ghost, hair a milky streamer. She was well aware that her appearance was the only thing men paid attention to. Even now, she could feel the eyes of the night crew on her back as they steered the long, wide boat toward its destination, the transfer port at Yeun.
“Tough to sleep in these winds,” Rhayd’s voice rumbled from behind the girl. He stood feet akimbo, arms folded neatly over his chest, that long, crimson cape of his snapping like a banner hanging from his shoulders, his russet hair obscuring his face with the aid of that selfsame breath of the storm. “I keep trying, and I keep failing,” he added after a moment, as if his unease were some kind of personal attack.
“I didn’t curse your slumber…” In case that was his first thought – she knew how little he thought of her, how scornful his eyes would be when she turned. “I haven’t even tried…The motion makes me feel like if I close my eyes I’ll fall off the world.” Actually, the fight with Kintere, the silence of the afternoon save for the come-on of sailors – then the storm. The jolt of the boat into the trough of a wave made her hiss with a jolt of pain – so delicate she lost her balance and went tumbling towards thee sodden deck.
In a flash the young noble was there with a steadying hand for Mireya’s shoulder, knees skidding on the deck. Instinct is a strong force. After a moment’s confused frown and recovery, the man coughed and grimaced. Mireya whimpered at the jolt of his hand, a tiny animal sound of pain that she bit back even as she jerked out of his touch as if his fingers were electrified – spinning to face him as she backed herself into the corner of the rail for safety. Like some sort of wild fey trapped on the deck, sodden through by the spray, cloth clinging to her comely frame – fragility and comeliness combined. Apparently catching her had placed a large strain on the boy’s left shoulder and he was forced to cradle the arm to his stomach.
“You’re out here and Kintere’s been locked away all evening. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out something’s up.”
“You should be relieved, he’s finally seeing me for what I am…The way everyone else sees me. The way you see me – I told him to ask you what I was…I’ve heard you have colourful phrases.” Attacking with her voice, fighting off her usual terror of him.
Rhayd huffed as he collapsed to the deck, shuffling back against the rail and closing his eyes against the twinge in his arm.
“Kintere knows what you are, just like I do. But I don’t think you do, Rey. Our self-image is seldom as on target as we think. We all have flaws, but they’re almost never what we think they are. Tere will be fine, he just has nowhere to blow off steam here, that’s all.”
Mireya reached for him, to try and cushion his fall – she ’s not heartless, but she reached for his sleeve and not the cloy of skin “I’m what do you call me? Oh yes..Auss’s whore, something like that. Isn’t it?” She could feel the sneer grow as she forced her eyes to fix onto his face “I’m surprised you’ve not suggested Kintere use his coin to buy off his steam on me….Isn’t that what you normally suggest?” For so small, delicate a thing – shivering and wild, she was hissing at him like a trapped cat. “Thanks to you I’ve been groped and accosted by ever sailor on this ship….”
“And they’ll be dealt with,” the young noble whispered, cracking his eyelids open. Not a threat, nor a promise; a statement of fact. “I don’t think you understand just how loyal Kintere is. Half the crew is already frightened of him, and the other half will be if they’re smart by the time we hit Yeun. No one will see it, but he’ll deal with them. Your trip from Yeun to Lockwood will be quiet.”
“I don’t care about them…You don’t understand single thing about me, you’re as blind as Kintere is…He sees me as pure as snow, you see me as a scarlet whore….You all make me sick, all of you men. You don’t know me, my life…I don’t need a man to defend me. It’s laughable”
“Maybe Kintere’s defending himself,” Rhayd argued. “He’s not nearly as naive as you think. He’s one of the most observant people I know. He just chooses to ignore just about everything that he doesn’t like at face value. He chooses to ignore your… Previous predicament, as I do not, because it doesn’t suit him. I hate that about him. But it’s his way.” The young man stretched out his arm, wincing as he did so, flexing gloved fingers – always those gloved fingers, just that left hand – and moved to stand at the rail, elbows hunkered against it. “I’ve got better things to do than argue semantics.”