Page 15 of The Sea Witch
There was a long loud groan, followed by the cracking of thick timbers. The sloop snapped into thousands of pieces. Its masts and decks sank beneath the water. The terrified shrieks of men attempting to swim to safety disappeared as they were swallowed whole.
Wooden splinters bobbing on the waves were all that remained of Fontaine’s vessel.
Three minutes. An entire ship and its crew, destroyed in less time than it took to drink a tankard of ale.
The leviathan swam toward theJupiter.
Closing her eyes, Alys urged the water to push her along. Almost no magic rose up within her, wrung dry from all the energy she’d used. Yet she gathered enough power from even the tiniest filaments of her body to give her a small amount of help as she rowed.
She neared theSea Witch. It had undergone changes in the year since they’d stolen her from the dock in Norham, with more guns, more crew, a new name, and it was home now.
The company gathered at the gunwale. A rope was thrown over rail, and with her limbs trembling from physical exertion and magic use, she climbed it, leaving the longboat bobbing on the waves. Many hands reached down to assist her up.
She climbed onto the deck of theSea Witchto see many familiar faces, and others who had become part of their pirate company over the course of the year. Whatever roles they were forced to play on land, on this ship, they could be whomever they wanted, and they dressed accordingly. Some wore loose trousers and shirts, others favored a mixture of bodices and breeches, a handful wore skirts, and all of them were armed with weapons of every variety. Cutlasses, clubs, knives, pistols, and potions. A few had cut their hair short, and others wore their locks long and loose.
Her crew was comprised of many colors and sizes and ages and countries of origin, and they each had voted her into the role of captain.
“TheDiabolique,” Alys gasped.
“We saw it,” Stasia, her second-in-command, said grimly. Black-haired, sharp dark eyes lined with kohl, she was dressed in an embroidered bodice and the loose vraka pantaloons of her Aegean homeland. “Looked like a roaring party ashore.”
“That wasbeforethe British Navy showed up.” Alys curled and uncurled her hands, which had cramped on the oars. Though her body was weakened from using so much magic, she was still standing. “Little George gave many gifts at his wake, including a clue to—”
“Who the hell isthat?” Susannah pointed toward the gunwale behind Alys.
Spinning, Alys gaped as a pair of man’s hands gripped the railing. She darted to pry them loose from the gunwale, but she was too late.
Sodden, gasping, the naval sailing master hauled himself over the railing to stare at her with triumph in his eyes.
“Got you,” he panted.
No sooner had the words left Ben’s mouth than he found himself at the point of a dozen cutlasses, with nearly as many pistols aimed at his head and heart. Glowing, jewel-hued spells appeared above the fingers of many of the crew and the air held the mineral scent of magic.
Oh, hell.
As if awaiting inspection, he straightened his dripping coat.
“Hold.” Narrowing her eyes, Alys Tanner slowly approached him. Her cheeks were pale, her features drawn, making her freckles stand out like drops of blood. “Don’t kill him. Yet.”
“Appreciate your forbearance.” He fought to calm his ragged breathing.
“I saidyet.” She stopped and tilted her head. “Only a dolphin could swim to my ship so quickly. Unless you have magic of your own.”
“I clung to the side of the longboat—you rowed us both here.”
A tiny smile tipped the corner of her lips. “Whoever you are, navy man, you’re fucking persistent.”
Such foul language shouldn’t have been shocking. He’d been at sea for most of his life and had encountered every sort of person of all genders in his naval service, especially those who didn’t adhere to society’s rules. But he jolted to hear Alys Tanner curse.
“Benjamin Priestley.” He bowed. “Sailing master for the HMSJupiter.”
“TheJupiteris now nearly a mile behind us, and too impaired to pursue.” She gazed over his shoulder, and he followed her attention to see the dark smudge of the British naval ship growing smaller by the moment. “A far distance between you and a friendly face, Sailing Master Priestley.”
Damn. The leviathan couldn’t give chase, either, since the spell that kept it imprisoned to the navy’s bidding meant it could not attack without a Royal Navy ship—and mage—nearby.
“Throw him overboard,” someone shouted.
“Shoot him andthenthrow him overboard,” another female voice chimed in.
