Page 3 of Princess of Death

“Catch the wind with the sails.” That would bring us farther east, but I would rather try to beat the storm than spin around in the eye. “Let’s get out ahead of it.” I didn’t know if anyone listened because I couldn’t see a damn thing.

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

I stumbled to the mast where Davin worked to turn the sail. I grabbed on to the rope and helped him turn it before I locked it into position until the galleon followed the wind. The crew must have worked the other sails because I felt us turn. Then we changed the sails again, straightened out, despite the severity of the storm, and locked them into place.

I had no idea where we were headed. It was so dark and visibility was nonexistent, so we could crash into a pile of rocks any second. We could crash and sink, drown in the whitecaps.

I pictured my father’s devastated face.

My mother’s tears.

Felt Khazmuda’s sadness.

“We aren’t dying out here!” I had no idea where Captain Hartshire was. Hadn’t heard his voice for hours, so he may have been thrown off the ship. “Hold the masts. She’ll get us out of this.”

I knew the boat hit rocks when I heard the scrape of the hull.

Scraaaaapppppeeee.

The boat dragged over the surface until it came to a stop and didn’t move again, despite the fierce wind that continued to pound us. The rain didn’t let up. The storm that felt more like a hurricane continued.

I knew this was it.

We would sink.

The crew panicked and rushed to the rowboats hooked over the edge of the railings to drop them into the water…as if that would make a difference.

For a ship this size, with the amount of cargo in the hold, we should sink quickly.

But we didn’t move.

While the crew continued to panic and drop the boats into the water, I looked over the railing and peered into the darkness. My eyes strained with the focus, and then I heard the sound.

The sound of trees blowing in the wind.

“We’ve struck land!” I couldn’t see the crew on the other side of the boat, but I heard them approach then felt and smelled them beside me. There was a break in the clouds, and then the moon was exposed, blanketing us in white light that shone against the bark of the trees and the white sands of the beach.

I saw just a glimpse, but that was all it took.

Dead trees. Bare lands. Emptiness.

But it was a refuge, nonetheless.

“We’ll take shelter in our cabins until the storm passes.” The wind was so strong I could feel my words strike me in theface the moment they left my mouth. The storm was powerful enough that it made the wind as physical as a dragon, made my words fly over the dead island.

We descended deeper into the ship and took refuge in the crew’s quarters, bunk beds secured to the walls so they wouldn’t slide across the floor when the sea was rocky. Someone lit a lantern, and for the first time, I could actually see my own hands, see the company that had commanded the galleon against the odds.

My eyes went to every face, seeing the exhaustion, fear, and despair.

I sat in an unoccupied chair, feeling my damp clothes sticking to my skin. Now that the imminent fear was gone and the fire of adrenaline had been extinguished, I started to shiver from the cold.

The rain continued to pound the deck above. The wind howled like a pack of wolves that hunted us in the dark. Half of the crew had been lost—including Captain Hartshire. Shipwrecked and off course, we had to sit there and soak in our despair as we waited for the sun to rise once again.

The silence jolted me awake.

It was as loud as the scrape of our hull against the rocks, and I came into consciousness in a panic. Flashes of the storm passed across my mind, the galleon nearly capsizing, the sight of a hand grabbing one of the masts, the screams from the panicked crew. I could feel the shards of rain on my face like little daggers.

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