TANWEN
Mor looked at me like I’d murdered his favorite fluff-hopper. “How could you not tell me?”
Despite the state of things—that I’d just forced my way onto his ship and demanded he save my life—I glared at him. “Is that a serious question? Take a moment, Mor, and consider when I might have told you. When you gave me any inkling you wanted to hear about my burdens.”
He blinked, looking properly chastised, but that didn’t make me feel a bit better. “Still,” he said softly. “You could have told me. It might have . . . changed things.”
“Really? How, exactly?”
“I . . . don’t know.” He glanced at Father. “If we had known, we could have . . . done something.”
“Aye. Like we’ve been able to ‘do something’ for Gryfelle?”
“That’s enough,” Father interrupted. “It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s here and we know now.”
I glanced at the others. Most of the crewmen had returned to their work, including orange-haired Jule, who I now saw at the ship’s wheel. But the weavers stared at me, and something told me that even if they couldn’t hear this hushed conversation, they knew. They knew this was no longer “Gryfelle’s quest” but now was “Gryfelle and Tanwen’s quest.” And their knowing I’d squashed down my storytelling gift enough to land myself with a curse made me want to hurl my breakfast overboard.
“Yes. She’s here.” Mor’s voice had lost its confusion, hurt, and concern. It hardened to stone. Again.
Maybe I should toss him overboard instead.
“Excuse me, General. Tanwen.” And then he stalked away, like my illness personally offended him. Or like he had a ship to captain, or something.
“Easy, Tannie girl.”
Father touched my fingertips, and I looked down at them. They were glowing red-hot.
Oops.
I sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry. He’s just . . .”
“I know. Give him time. This isn’t easy on anyone, and he’s just a lad.”
“He’s not just a lad. He’s captain of a ship and fully of age, far as the law is concerned.”
Father smiled. “Aye. You’re right. But you’re all children from where I sit.”
“Nearly of age myself, you know. Will be before this journey’s done, if I make it that long.”
Father frowned but didn’t argue. “I’ll see to a cabin for you. I hope Aeron’s brought extra clothes.” He eyed my traveling dress. “That won’t do.”
“Trousers? You want me to wear Aeron’s trousers?”
He shot me a look. “You’re part of the crew now. This is what you wanted, and you’ll need to dress for the work. I’ll see to that cabin.”
And then I was alone on the deck, feeling exactly like a bumplelump that had fallen off her favorite log and into some very deep water. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.
“That was pretty brave, you know.”
I turned toward the sound of a vaguely familiar voice. It was the crewman who had helped me on board after I’d jumped like an idiot. He was younger than I’d realized at first. Barely sporting blond beard stubble on most of his face. His hair was shorn, as sailors favored. His friendly smile felt like a ray of sunshine after Marble-Face Mor’s cold departure.
“Brave, huh?” I challenged. “If you say so.”
“Well . . . brave or daft. Depending on how you look at it.”
“And how do you look at it?”
He grinned. “A little of both.”
“Aye, that about sums it up.” I chuckled and held out my hand. “Tanwen.”
He took my hand and shook it. “Wylaith Bo-Thordwyan.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“Call me Wylie.”
“Call me Tannie.”
“I will.” He tipped his hat. “So, you going to explain that little fit of brave daftness? Or will you leave us to wonder what was so important on board that it couldn’t wait for our return?” He glanced toward Mor at the wheel with Jule. “I suppose the captain knows already.”
The last thing I needed was the crewmen making jokes and jabs about something between me and Mor. “I’m Tanwen En-Yestin.”
Wylie’s eyebrows rose. “The general’s daughter?”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“I guess I see it there. In your nose a bit.”
“Are you saying I have the nose of an old war hero?”
“Aye. Exactly that.”
I laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Wylie.”
“Likewise. You looked like you could use a friend.”
He meant it kindly, but somehow it felt like a dart of ice to my chest. “My misery’s been well spotted.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to poke at you. It was just an observation.” He paused, looking around the deck. “Have you sailed before?”
“Never.”
“Never?” His eyes widened. “Oh, lass, are you in for a time!”
“Good or bad?”
“Yes.”
“Brilliant.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun. Do you know anything about ships?”
“I know they’re made of very hard wood that’s likely to bruise a girl’s ribs when she smashes into the side of them.” I rubbed the sore spot on my ribcage.
“See now? You’re teaching me things about ships I never knew.”
My laughter felt good, all the way to the depths of my soul.
“Want me to teach you about knots?” Wylie offered.
I hesitated. “Why do I need to know about knots?”
“We use them a lot in sailing. You’ve really never been on a ship?”
“Just a boat with oars. And riverboats. A ferry or two.”
“Well, sails need ropes. Ropes need knots.”
“In that case”—I grinned—“I’m ready to learn.”