Page 105 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Oh, thank heavens.”

“My dear, you gave us quite the fright,” Domingo murmured, and even he was gazing upon me with much affection and relief.

“Where am I?” I croaked.

“In my rooms, where you should be. Always. I’ve a mind to keep you here under lock and key.” They were harsh words uttered lovingly.

Domingo laughed. “Now, now. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What happened?” I asked, trying to make sense of what I remembered.

An explosion. Then I was drowning, then I was… Oh no…

Captain Martin put a steadying hand on my arm.

“We’re safe on theArrow, Simon. We’re away.”

“I unleashed my power again, didn’t I? The storm…”

Domingo and Dinesh glanced at each other.

“Is everyone all right?” I whispered.

Captain Martin nodded, but he looked grave. “Most of them. There are a couple of men who—” He glanced at Domingo again, and Domingo frowned and gave his head a little shake. “—we don’t know what happened to…”

I felt sick. “Because of me?”

“No, Rooster. You saved us. Again,” Captain Martin said. “But two men are missing. They didn’t get to the skiff in time.”

I took in this information. But I needed to know. “Who?”

“Mr Silk, the carpenter’s mate. And Duncan, the coxswain.”

Mr Silk could tell a yarn like no other, and Duncan played his hornpipe for anyone who asked. They’d be missed.

“Are they still on the isle?”

No one answered me. Then Captain Martin smiled in a reassuring way.

“The ordeal is over now. Rest. How are you feeling?”

He was distracting me from my worry, and I decided to go along with his plan, at least for now.

“My head feels like my brains got blown to pieces,” I said. “My ears are ringing.”

“Yes, there was an explosion. Most of us are dealing with that. Faraday says the sound will go away.”

I lifted a hand from the bedcover to put my fingers to my head, but I froze when I saw the linen bandage wrapped around my palm. I looked at Dinesh.

“The storm. It helped us get away?”

“It did.”

Domingo snorted with disdain. “Fuck, White, you brought down a vicious blast from the heavens. I wouldn’t call that a storm.”

“What would you call it, Domingo?” I asked.

“A judgement,” he said, quite definitively.

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