Page 19 of Queen of Whispers and Mist

Okay then, don’t panic, Shadow. Let’s go over what youdoknow.

“One,” she murmured, her voice rusty with disuse, “you remember your name. Yay.” It was about as unenthusiastic a cheer as she could manage, but remembering anything right now felt like a victory worthy of celebration.

“Two, you work as an assassin for the High Lord of Empyria, annnd three... you’re on a boat.” Dropping her hands, Shadow forced her eyes open and scanned her surroundings once more. “How the hell did I get on a boat?”

As far as clues went, there weren’t many to go by. Nothing to tell her whose ship she was on or what she was doing here. The cabin appeared to be as bare bones as it could get. No personal details. No chests filled with clothes or supplies. Just a single bed with rough but clean linens, a small pockmarked table, and a lone chair.

Realizing the only way she was going to get any answers was to leave her quarters, she stood on shaky legs, the subtle dip and sway of the floorboards sending her toppling off-balance. She threw a hand out, slamming it against the wall to keep from falling on her ass. Taking a second to find her balance, she stayed put, using the respite to perform a quick mental inspection. Her body was one never-ending ache. It felt as though she’d been bashed in the head and then flung off a cliff. Or repeatedly slammed into a wall of rocks. She peeled up her shirt, wincing at the purple and green splotches covering her stomach.

The rock theory was looking more likely by the second.

Once she felt steady, Shadow moved toward the door. Her steps were hesitant at first, but the fact that she was neither bound nor under guard gave her confidence. Surely if she was a prisoner, or even here against her will, someone would want her to stay put.

You’re on a boat who knows how far offshore... where would you go? For a swim?

“Good point,” she muttered, fully aware she was carrying on a conversation with herself and not remotely embarrassed by it. She’d spent countless days and nights on her own. Speaking aloud was a good way to stay focused and sane, even if it might outwardly appear to be proof of the opposite.

Reaching the door, she tested the knob, her breath escaping in a relieved whoosh to find it unlocked.

The ticks in the ‘not a prisoner’ box were adding up. Still, she moved carefully through the narrow hallway, ears and eyes seeking out any sign of life. She reached the end of the hall, ignoring the doors she passed on her way for now, and came across a staircase leading to the upper deck.

A staircase with a young boy, perhaps only ten or eleven. His eyes widened when they landed on her, his surprised inhale sounding like a soft whistle.

“Where’s your captain, boy?”

He pointed a shaking hand behind him.

Either he knew who she was, or he was terrified of strangers in general. Not one to torment children—unless the pesky buggers asked for it—she gave him a nod of thanks, softening her voice as she asked, “Do you or your captain have a name, boy?”

“N-no Beard,” he stuttered softly.

Shadow breathed out a laugh. “Your name is No Beard?”

“Not m-mine. Cap’n.”

“And you?”

“Willie,” he whispered.

“My thanks, Willie. Best be on your way. I didn’t mean to interrupt your chores.”

With a relieved nod, he scampered the rest of the stairs past her, darting down the hallway she’d just vacated.

Shaking her head slightly and then immediately stopping when it made her eyes swim, Shadow clung to the handrail and slowly climbed the stairs. She felt better as soon as the sea breeze hit her face, bringing with it a smattering of tiny droplets that both cooled and refreshed her.

Bracing herself for shouts or an attack, she took the final step onto the deck. She held her breath for several heartbeats, finally releasing it when no one immediately rushed her. In fact, no one really looked her way at all. There were six people in view, and all but one of them seemed to be in an intense conversation with a man that had to be the captain.

Thankfully the clouds were thick in the sky, keeping the change in light from being blinding, so she was able to get her bearings quickly. With the sun’s position hidden, it was hard to know for sure, but her best guess was that it was around midday, give or take a few hours in either direction. She had no clue which way they were going, as there was no discernible landmark for her to see. Nothing save an endless expanse of rippling blue water and foamy white sea spray.

Since she seemed safe for the moment, Shadow took the extra time to gather as much intel about her fellow passengers as she could. She started with the man she assumed was the captain. He spoke with the easy authority of one used to giving orders, and the men around him hung on every word. He was tall, his torso heavy with muscle—a testament, she’d guess, to years spent working a ship. His face was sun-kissed and smooth, nose just a hint crooked as if it had been broken one too many times, and tousled honey blond hair threaded with white-gold highlights. As he spoke, his lips curled into an easy smile. He seemed more charming boy next door than bloodthirsty pirate, but perhaps that was his secret.

Two of the men stood with their backs to her, so she couldn’t garner many details, besides their size. One was a hulking brute of a man, nearly twice as wide as the one standing beside him and at least a head taller. His glossy black hair was pulled back into a neat tail at his nape, and his clothing was notably finer than the others, including a velvet navy blue doublet and pristine cream-colored pants. Shadow was sure, were she close enough, she’d be able to spot her reflection in the toe of his polished black boots.

The man beside him was bald, still sizable compared to the others, but not quite meeting the height of the well-dressed fellow. She also caught the hint of a curly black beard and colorful tattoos peppering his sunburnt arms.

As for the last two, one stood in a straight line across the deck from her, and the other was completely obscured by the mountain of a man. Where the captain was all sunny smiles, the final sailor she could make out was the personification of a storm cloud. His lips were twisted down in a severe frown, a deep crease between his thick brows. He was as built as the captain, and what she could see of his skin was sun dark and scarred. But the features that most stood out were the dirt-stained cloth tied around his eyes and the metallic quality of his deep blue hair. It was a unique shade too dark to be turquoise and too green to be navy... Prussian, perhaps? Whatever the name, it called to mind gemstones and the secrets of the sea and made her fingers twitch with the need to touch it.

A tiny bird the color of sunset she hadn’t noticed until that moment chirped on his shoulder, and the man’s head snapped from the captain to her. As if he could see her through the band woven around his eyes.

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