Page 50 of The Sea Witch
If he reigns king on all the land,
Ward will reign king on the sea.”
The last few words were shouted, less of a song and more of a battle cry bellowed by many women and one lone man. Susannah’s illusion ended in a tiny burst of celebratory fireworks.
When the final echo died down, the illusion fading away, Alys’s ship went back to its business, the decks being swabbed, the sails mended, and crew up in the rigging.
Ben’s attention pinned to her. The blue heat of his gaze danced over her like St. Elmo’s fire.
He nodded at her, a brief, clipped movement that was still respectful and appreciative.
She returned the nod before giving her attention back once more to the horizon, steering her ship.
“Here I thought men of the Royal Navy wouldn’t know how to sing ‘Ward the Pirate.’?” Alys reached across the table inher cabin to break off a sizable chunk of bread, then dunked it into her mutton stew. “Either I’ve misjudged the navy—or you.”
“It’s a common enough song.” Ben dipped his spoon into his bowl, yet he didn’t hunch over his food, the way she did, and kept his elbows off the table. When he’d helped himself to bread, he’d used only the tips of his fingers and spilled a minimum of crumbs. All his movements were economical but graceful, belying the fact that breakfast had been served many hours ago, and he was likely just as hungry as she was.
Alys started to straighten her posture, then planted her elbows firmly on either side of her bowl and made a show of tearing another piece of bread and scattering crumbs across the table.
Yet there wasn’t any distaste or displeasure in his crystal blue eyes. If her table manners offended him, he hid it behind a bright and interested gaze.
“A pirate king defeating the English monarch’s ship seems an unlikely subject for a British naval warrant officer to know by heart.” She took a deep drink of ale and dragged her sleeve across her mouth like a proper pirate.
He still wore a faint smile as he looked at her.
“When you’ve been at sea for as long as I have,” he replied, “it serves you admirably to listen well.” He was silent for a moment, then, “My thanks... I’m grateful you sang with me.”
“My voice is passable.” She shrugged. “Hardly worth praise.”
“You’ve a fine alto.” His gaze held hers and she stilled.
Perhaps she should have taken her supper with Stasia and the others, rather than be alone with him in her quarters. Yet his loneliness had been a tangible thing within her.
She gave another small shrug. “You’d have looked damned foolish, bellowing on your own.”
“I would’ve thought you’d relish any opportunity to make me appear the fool,” he said gruffly. “Even small victories are victories.”
“My best triumphs are at the end of my cutlass or from abroadside—or summoning a blinding smoke that stuns and weakens my enemies. And the sound of a lone voice chafes against my hearing.” Her fingers were suddenly restless, making her reach for more bread.
His broad hand covered hers.
Against her own, his skin was warm and callused. Her heart leapt like a dolphin. At that moment, there was nothing in the whole of the realm of the ocean that could make her pull away from his touch.
“Accepting gratitude for your decency isn’t a weakness,” he said lowly.
For a moment, she simply looked into his eyes and let him touch her. It was astonishing, how blue his eyes were, like the waters lapping in the bay of a Caribbean island, and just now they were as warm as the waters, too.
She dragged her hand back and curled it into a fist. At the same time, she returned her attention to her meal, as if she hadn’t seen Josephine’s version of mutton stewed with potatoes, carrots, and island peppers hundreds of times.
“It can be, if you’re a pirate,” she said. “Even more so if you’re a witch.”
He resumed eating, his manacles making dull metallic sounds as he moved. Perhaps they were rubbing against the skin of his wrists, but if they caused him pain, he made no mention of it. “I vow not to thank you again.”
“See that you don’t. There’s no value to me fromyourhigh regard.”
“I have a usefulness. For now. And nothing beyond that.”
She appreciated that there wasn’t any hurt in his words. “This,” she noted, gesturing to the space between them as they sat at the table, “is brief-lived, and exists only because you’ve got knowledge my crew doesn’t.”
