Page 13 of Of Magic and Rum
“I suppose you’re going to tell the captain now?”
Mary shakes her head, her callused fingertip absently tracing across the freckles on my cheek before giving me space. “I ain’t no snitch, darling. But I can’t account for anyone else who figures it out.”
The way she carries herself is how I’d appear if not for the need to disguise myself. A woman who knows who she is, the power she bears, and has the confidence to carry it out. I’ve grown maddening respect for her in a matter of minutes, and I can see us becoming fast friends.
“You haven’t asked me why I snuck on board. Why I’m hiding—” Unintentionally, my voice grows louder, and I shut my mouth before alerting anyone.
“Because it’s not my business.” Mary rests one hand on her saber’s hilt. “Everyone on this ship has their reasons, and it’s theirs to tell. No one will pry unless it threatens our livelihood. And if they feel inclined to share, we’ll be all ears.”
Resolute freedom for everyone to be themselves without question or judgment.
“I needed safe passage somewhere. And I won’t be a burden to any of you. You won’t know I’m here.” I bow my head like she’s royalty, listening to my plea.
Mary slips a finger under my chin, lifting it so I meet her gaze. “You’re impossible not to notice, I’m afraid, even dressed as a boy.” Her hand falls, and she lets out a wistful sigh. “And judging by your reaction to my kiss, I assume you prefer the—” She lifts her pinky and wiggles it in front of us.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at her physical analogy. “I’m afraid so, sorry.”
Mary waves it off like an irritating gnat. “Don’t be. You win some, you lose some. But I assure you. If you want to keep up appearances for more than a week, you’ll have to do much better than this, Andr—” She pauses and quizzically eyes me. “What’s your actual name?”
“Anne,” I answer, smiling and holding out my hand.
Mary shakes it. “Anne and Mary. Resident pirate queens of The Revenge.”
“Maybe just you, Mary.” Chuckling, I retract my hand and pull the sleeve back over my knuckles.
“Nah.” She playfully nudges me. “You’ll come ‘round. Speaking of. Do you know how to use that thing?” Mary points at my dagger.
Peeling back my shirt, I eye the weapon as if I’ve only now seen it. “You—stab people with it?”
“Yes, but have you killed someone before?”
Given the company, it feels like a loaded question, but it shouldn’t.
“Possibly?” The word comes out slowly, each part enunciated like when learning to read.
“I only ask because you may need to show some of the crew that you’re not to be trifled with—that is unless youwantto be trifled with.” Mary gives a playful grin before continuing. “But it’s only a matter of time before one tries, and so long as you show them it ain’t happening, they’ll have no choice but to back down or suffer the wrath of not following the ship’s code. Got me?”
“Yes.” I nod for extra affirmation.
“Good. I need to get back to work, but Anne, if you need anything—and I do mean anything—” Mary wraps a hand over my shoulder and squeezes. “Don’t hesitate to let me know, alright? Us lasses need to stick together. Especially being surrounded by this many sausages.” She snorts and offers a wink.
There’s no containing my own quick sputter of laughter. “Thanks, Mary. Truly.”
“Any time,” she replies while backpedaling. “And you may want to smear some more dirt on your cheeks. Lookfartoo pretty for a lowly cabin boy.”
My cheeks heat.
Noted.
Days go by at sea with little trouble or interruption. The weather has been holding up with scarcely a cloud in the sky, which makes the sun unrelenting but better for me and myscales. We receive food rations daily and watered-down rum every other day. I’ve quickly learned how much I can sip to make it last throughout the day. I’d done as Mary suggested, coating my face with grease and keeping my clothes baggy. No one seems to be the wiser, not even the captain, who only catches my gaze on the rarest occasions, usually from the ship’s opposite side.
It's for the best. Despite his questionable pirate captain morality, there’s no denying how attractive he is, and he knows it. If he gets too close, I can’t promise myself not to let my gaze linger for one beat too long. And fortunately, he’s never been on deck sans shirt like most of the crew. I already know about the dark scattering of hair on his chest and would be lying if I didn’t daydream about what it looks like over his stomach. Does he have that thin trail leading to his?—
“Anne,” Mary whispers nearby, making me jerk with the scrubber in hand, slip, and slam my elbow on the wooden floorboards. She’s crouching beside me, her hands dangling between her legs. “What wereyouthinking about?”
I sit back on my haunches and rub my arm. “Being anywhere but this bleedin’ ship.”
“Who are you fooling?”
