Page 2 of Princess of Death

I stood at the bow of the ship and looked to the sea beyond. It was almost sunset, and the sky was a beautiful array of colors. The clouds were puffy and thick, and a breeze picked up from the west.

The sails started to flap harder above me, the wind as powerful as the strike of sword against shield. I stared at it and suddenly felt a chill sweep across me when the air had been humid a moment ago.

I turned to the west, seeing nothing but angry ocean out in the distance.

Captain Hartshire joined me, leaning against the mast of the front sail. He pulled a cigar out of his front pocket and lit up. “Your father will be happy to see you in the same condition as when you left.”

I continued to stare to the west, studying the waves and the clouds that were so dark I could barely make them out.

“I told him I didn’t want a novice sailor on such an epic voyage, but he insisted that you could handle it.” He took a puff of the cigar and let the smoke dance on his tongue before he let it out again. “He was right.”

I turned to look at him head on. “A storm approaches from the west.”

He stuck the cigar between his lips to hold it in place and turned to follow my stare. “Rain and a storm are two very different things.”

“Rain doesn’t cause whitecaps.”

“We’re in the middle of the Great Sea,” he said. “There are always whitecaps. Besides, the wind is blowing in the opposite direction.”

“My father told me the direction of the wind can be as fickle as the currents.”

He looked over the horizon again, the distance growing hazier by the second in the dying light. “Whether it’s a storm or not, that doesn’t change our course.”

“If we try to push through it, who knows where we’ll end up. But if we try to get out ahead of it?—”

“Lily.” He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and held it between his fingertips. “I just said I think you’re a damn good sailor. Understand the galleon the way a man understands a woman’s body. But you’re still young and inexperienced—remember that.”

A flush of anger rushed through me because the wrong decision could get us all killed. “With all due respect, I’ve probably been sailing for longer than you have. My father has taken me and mybrother out to sea since I could stand on my own two feet. And I’m telling you, that’s not rain. That’s a storm.”

Captain Hartshire slipped the cigar back between his lips, his eyes showing irritation at my protest. “Even if you’re right, we can return to the Southern Isles before it arrives.”

“Based on what evidence?” I snapped. “More experience means more arrogance, it seems.”

His eyes flashed back and forth between mine, and the silent anger on his face was like a scream. “Be grateful you’re your father’s daughter. Otherwise, you’d be in the cell for that kind of insubordination.”

“I’m not insubordinate. I’m trying to keep us all alive?—”

“Enough.” He raised his voice now, drawing the attention of the other members of the crew. “Take a rowboat east if you want. I won’t stop you. But this galleon is headed south. Help us get there or leave.” He sucked on the end of his cigar as he walked off. He let the smoke release then barked orders to the crew. “Show the sea the meaning of haste, gentlemen.”

It felt as if a bucket of water was being poured over me endlessly. The only reprieve from the drenching was the wind. When a gust struck from the opposite direction, the rain changed its track, and for a mere second, it didn’t pour down my face.

The torches continued to blow out. Jacob constantly had to light them again so we could see what we were doing. Every time I checked the compass my father had given me, it was spinningfuriously in a circle because the galleon constantly changed directions.

I tried to push out my mind to feel Zehemoth, to feel any dragon nearby to ask for help, but we were too far away from the Southern Isles to make contact. Perhaps I would have had better luck if the storm weren’t rampant. A dragon could fly overhead, and even if we had no acquaintance, my father’s name alone would grant me protection.

But if my father knew about the storm in the Great Sea, he would mount Khazmuda and fly over the clouds—just in case I was there and needed help. He’d let me go on this adventure without trying to convince me to stay, but I knew it nearly killed him to do so. I knew he carried the worry in his chest every day, that he counted down the days to my return.

But I still felt nothing.

The galleon rocked sharply to the right, so far, I thought the ship was about to tip over. “To the port side!” I called into the darkness. “Everyone!”

I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled, climbed up the wooden planks of the ship to the opposite side, which was high in the air now. The whereabouts of my crew was unknown. The limited times I could see were ruined by the rain that poured into my eyes.

I made it to the opposite railing and gripped tight.

Then the galleon started to tip the other way, leveling once more on the rocky sea.

Yells erupted into the night.

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