Daughter of the Siren Queen - Tricia Levenseller Page 0,47
lost.
The mizzenmast and foremast still stand, but the rigging hangs limply to the deck, blowing about in calmer winds. The mainmast floats in the water a ways off, and a few girls take the rowboats to try and salvage the sails and crow’s nest.
Only then does our new predicament fully hit me.
A sequence of expletives leaves my mouth as I take in the carnage. I don’t even feel guilty when Roslyn turns to Niridia to ask what one of the words means.
The ship barely crawls along without the mainmast. We can’t unfurl the sail on the foremast yet because the rigging needs fixing. The lateen on the mizzen doesn’t do much to push the ship forward. The pirate king will have no trouble catching up to us now.
I can’t seem to stop looking at the missing mast. My father betrayed me. My mother betrayed me. Now my own ship has betrayed me.
A feeling of helplessness pokes around the edges of my mind, wanting in, wanting to flood everything else.
Three days.
My father is possibly only three days away.
And our ship is now drastically slower than his.
He’ll be upon us in no time.
The thought nearly leaves me breathless with fear. What more could I have done? We had a plan. We were doing fine—but I cannot control the weather. This failing isn’t my fault.
Then why do I feel responsible? Did I do something wrong? I discovered my father was not the man I thought him to be. I thought being away from him would be the safest for my crew and me. But by ordering everyone to leave the fleet, I put us in more danger than we’ve ever been in before.
But you gave everyone a choice, a small, rational voice argues in my head. You gave them the option to leave. They all chose to stay.
Still. My. Fault.
A body bumps into me, and I finally look up.
“Sorry, Captain,” mumbles Lotiya as she carries a load of planks for repairing the deck.
I take a good look around me, see the men hauling heavier pieces of debris over the ship, see the riggers working on fixing the two sails left standing, watch Roslyn sweep the deck with a broom—the faces of my crew.
They’re still alive. The pirate king is not upon us yet.
I’d let despair win too soon. All hope is not lost.
We need a plan.
“Kearan, Niridia! Meet me in my quarters now.”
Kearan has a fractured piece of wood thrown over his shoulder. He shrugs it into the sea before following after me, Niridia on his heels.
We go to my desk, bypassing Mandsy and Riden on the floor. I don’t spare them a glance.
We’re here for the map.
“We need a new mast,” I say. We can fashion one ourselves, but we need a tall tree for that. Those aren’t to be found in the open ocean, but if we’re anywhere near land …
“Yes, here!” I point to the island. The one where my parents met. It’s not far off.
“We can’t just stop,” Niridia says. “We’ve no idea what’s out there.”
“Would you rather sail around aimlessly until we run out of food?” Kearan asks her. “Or worse. Until the king reaches us?”
“We could replace the mainmast with the mizzen, attach the mainsail to it, and—”
“It’s a good idea, Niridia,” I interrupt, “but we’ll never outrun my father that way. It would speed us up some, but not enough. We’ve no choice but to stop.”
It’s in Niridia’s nature to be cautious. She always suggests the safest and most practical course of action, but she never fails to follow orders when I say otherwise. She’s the reasonableness to my recklessness. And I always need to consider reasonable options, even if I don’t always end up taking them.
“Get us here, Kearan,” I say. “And let’s pray to the stars we can find a suitable trunk ashore.”
“Aye, Captain.” He leaves us, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that the rudder at least isn’t damaged. Then we’d really be in trouble.
* * *
I crawl into my room long after nightfall. After two days without sleep, I’m practically sagging from exhaustion.
“Get out,” Riden demands.
Oh, no he doesn’t. I saved him. I worked out saving the ship and the rest of the crew. I’ve worked too hard and too long. I will sleep in my own bed tonight.
I offer him a vulgar gesture in response before stepping over him to reach my bed. “You didn’t see it,” I say, realizing it’s pitch black, “but I just suggested you go—”