Chapter 30

 

Seven months later

Perdita balanced her boots on the foredeck of the Victory as the ship crested a wave and then crashed down the other side. Spray came sweeping aft, cooling her skin and depositing liquid diamonds on her waistcoat and breeches. Above her, sails filled to near bursting while a sky spanned the sea in a bowl of star-twinkling black.

“Where to, Captain?” Her first mate, Jard, slid beside her and scanned the horizon.

She gripped the amulet—Savion’s amulet—hanging around her neck. It began to heat as it always did when she was needed on an important mission—just as she and her crew had done yesterday in Renok. Rescuing a town from an incoming tsunami hadn’t been the hard part. ’Twas fighting off the influx of Natas’s forces who’d been waiting to infiltrate after the damage was done. But she’d chosen her crew well. Strong, brave men who were more than willing to serve a female captain as long as they got to fight Natas’s hordes and extend the kingdom for King Abbas.

Then again, she’d learned from the best.

Her first mate shifted his stance, awaiting her answer. But although the amulet warmed, no direction came from within. There was the usual peace and, oddly, a bit of rising excitement. But no guidance. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Keep heading east. We shall see what awaits us there.”

He touched his hat with the tip of his finger and sped off.

A golden glow rose on the horizon, announcing a new day—a new day of adventure and purpose, a new day that would take her to places she’d never been, to help others she’d never met. Grunts and groans brought her around to see her crew emerging from hatches, rubbing their eyes, and shuffling to their daily duties. She faced forward again and smiled, still not believing that a once-cursed mermaid was captain of a ship full of warriors! Warriors who fought on the side of good.

She gripped the hilt of the cutlass at her side. Thus far, they had done much good as they scoured the Ancient Seas, following where the amulet led. They set captives free, healed the sick, fed the hungry and thirsty, brought hope to the hopeless, sheltered the homeless, comforted the despondent, and defeated Natas’s hordes wherever they found them.

’Twas all so incredible, this grand adventure she was on, and one she did not deserve.

After Savion died, she had wallowed in self-pity and despair for more than a month, not eating, barely drinking, and longing for a death that would soon come now that she was mortal. But Savion called to her on the wind, in the crash of the waves, the beauty of the sunset. She would not allow his death to be for naught. She would not. She would follow in his footsteps, do the good that he had done. Pick up the mission where he left off.

How could she do any less after he had given his life for her?

The sun peered above the horizon in an arc of gold, spreading ribbons over the sea in every color of the rainbow.

Perdita squinted against its brilliance and closed her eyes, allowing its warmth to wash away the chill of night.

“A sail! A sail!” one of her top men yelled from above. “Straight off the bow.”

Plucking the telescope from her belt, Perdita focused it toward the sun. Out of the brilliant glow, the stark outline of masts and sails appeared, growing larger and larger.

Jard and Aiden appeared beside her. “Who is she?”

Perdita shook her head, trying to focus on the ensign flapping from her mainmast. “I don’t know.” She lowered the scope. “Ready the guns just in case, Mr. Aiden.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“She’s coming fast!” Her first mate whistled. “It’s like she’s flying over the water.”

Indeed, she was. Yet Perdita felt no fear, no trepidation. She curled fingers around the amulet, felt its warmth, saw its glow, but still naught but excitement burned within her.

The Victory lurched to starboard. Wood creaked and blocks rattled as sails snapped above. Creamy foam bubbled over the bow onto the deck. Balancing, Perdita raised the scope again. A stiff breeze gripped the ensign of the oncoming ship and flattened it for a moment. The flash of a lion with a scepter in its hand crossed her vision.

The Scepter! Her heart leapt. She shifted the glass to the deck. A bush of dark curly hair flopped in the breeze. Petrok? She adjusted the scope for a clearer view. It was Petrok! And Hona stood beside him.

“She signals for a parlay, Captain,” Jard said.

“Signal her back that we are happy to comply!” Perdita laughed and leapt down the foredeck ladder onto the main deck. “Lay aloft and furl tops and mains! Tack aweather! Bring us alongside our guests.”

Her crew scrambled to do her bidding, some leaping into the ratlines, others retrieving slack lines as sails were lowered. Soon the two ships slowed and heaved-to just yards apart. Lines were tossed, and both crews tugged until the ships thudded together.

Perdita could hardly contain herself. She leapt onto the bulwarks and flew over the railing of the Scepter, landing on the deck with a firm thud. This was Savion’s ship. His presence was still so strong, she could feel him, sense him, as if he still walked her decks. It did her heart good. It also did her good to see his crew.

Without waiting for permission, she flew into Petrok’s arms, not caring if he was still angry. Thankfully, he embraced her as if he were meeting an old friend. Elated, she withdrew and hugged Hona and Nuto and several others of the crew—all who seemed happy to see her.

Petrok smiled. “Perdita, you look well.”

“I am more than well. I am changed. I am doing Savion’s work now.”

At the mention of his name she expected sorrow to claim Petrok’s expression, but he only smiled wider, his eyes twinkling as if he knew a grand secret.

“You should join me!” She nearly burst with the idea. “The Scepter and the Victory, side by side, defeating Natas together! Won’t that be wonderful?”

“We will do that,” Hona said, snapping hair from his face. “Soon. But first there is something else you must do.”

Dread crept through Perdita. Despite their smiles—or mayhap because of them—she wondered if they intended to punish her for past sins. Make her walk the plank, keelhaul her, tie her to the mast, flog her, or mayhap all. She certainly deserved it. And more. She stepped forward, heart in her throat. “I’ll do whatever you require to atone for—”

“For what?” A voice interrupted Perdita from the companionway. It flowed past her ears like the dulcet tones of a cello. She knew that voice. But it couldn’t be.

Light hair appeared, then his glorious face, and then the fullness of him as he walked toward her in his tan breeches and white open shirt with his sun-kissed hair blowing behind him. She blinked. Nay! Savion was dead. This was just a vision, a dream conjured by her longing, her need for him.

She kept staring, taking in all the details she remembered, knowing that soon he would fade away or transform into one of the Scepter’s sailors.

But he didn’t. He stopped before her, gazing at her with those piercing gold eyes of his that always spoke more than words could say. Now they were saying love, hope, joy, peace … all the things she wanted her heart to embrace, but feared to because she didn’t deserve them.

“It’s me, Perdita. Never fear.” He brought her hand to his for a kiss.

She stumbled backward, and he put an arm around her waist.

“You’re alive? But … how? I saw you die.” Blood rushed from her head. His kiss, his touch— they felt so real.

“You best get her some water before she faints,” Savion said to Hona as he led her to sit atop a barrel. “My crew brought me home, where my father healed me. He has power over death.”

“Home?” Perdita rubbed her temples.

“Nevaeh.”

She gaped at him. Now she knew she was dreaming. “No one knows how to get to Nevaeh.”

“I know the way.” He smiled and glanced over his crew. “Besides, my father is the king.”

Breath fled her lungs, and she gripped the edges of the barrel. “You are the son of King Abbas? You are the prince of Nevaeh?”

“I am.”

Perdita dropped to her knees, her mind whirling with all the horrible things she’d done to this man—the prince! She’d used him, lied to him. Zost! She’d tried to seduce him! More than once she’d tried to get him killed.

Finally she did just that, when it was the last thing she wanted.

Would he now sentence her to death and worse—send her to some horrible dungeon? Trembling, she bowed her head. “My lord and my king.”

“And you, Perdita, are my princess. Rise.” He took her hand and helped her to her feet. Baffled, she stared at him. Princess? This couldn’t be happening. Dreams didn’t come true for women like her. She rubbed her eyes, trying to settle her whirling thoughts and emotions.

But when she focused on him again, he smiled and gently kissed her cheek, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I believe you owe me a wedding.”