“Thank the Seven Spirits,” she muttered.
I held back my snort. There was nothing to thank the spirits for. I certainly wouldn’t be thanking them for a single thing. Not when they were responsible for my current situation. Well, not all of them. Just one spirit in particular.
I pulled my red cloak closer around my body and turned to follow the captain and this woman. I hadn’t seen them here before.
“We just need to get the shipment of wine, and we’ll be on our way to Portos.”
My ears perked. Portos. A human island. Where I needed to travel wasn’t too far off course from there. Meaning less resistance from the crew, less questions about why their captain would agree to help me. This might very well be what I’d been looking for.
They walked off the dock and onto the cobblestone boardwalk, snow and ice covering the stones and making them slick. Stores lined the little boardwalk, but the captain and the woman passed all of them and turned onto a street,heading toward the inn. The same inn where I happened to be staying. Which made sense, given it was the only inn in town. Also the only place that served alcohol, making it a popular establishment.
This was already feeling too easy, which made my hackles rise, but I swallowed down the distrust. I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. I just needed to act.
The man opened the rickety wooden door to the inn, and the woman strode past him. His gaze caught on me, and he tipped his head, smiling, his thick mustache twitching. I did my best to smile in return, though the expression felt foreign and stiff on my lips. He continued to hold open the door as I stepped in.
Laughter and chatter filled the room. Long tables stretched out, filled with patrons, both fishermen who lived here and all the merchants passing through. This was a popular trading town. Merchants would dock, make their purchases, then sail off to sell their goods. Most of the merchants were headed to the human lands, since this was the closest trading town in proximity to them.
The man and woman settled at the end of one of the long tables, and I wondered where the rest of their crew was. How many of them there were. It couldn’t be just the two of them. The smallest crew I’d seen consisted of at least ten members.
I slid into a spot on the bench near the man, taking down my hood and trailing my fingers through my tangled black hair, attempting to comb it out so I didn’t look completely feral. Something I’d been described as many times over the years.
“Two tankards of ale and some fish stew,” the man said to the innkeeper, who stood behind the bar. The innkeeper nodded, then his gaze met mine. I ordered the same thing every single day. I tipped my head, and he dipped his chin to his chest in acknowledgement.
“The crew will be happy to get out of this place,” the woman said to the captain. She shrugged off her wool coat. “Spirits, I hate the cold.”
“Yes, Mary, I’m quite aware,” the captain said. “It’s all you talk about. How much you hate the cold.”
Mary lifted her chin, her green eyes flashing. “Well, excuse me. It’s miserable.”
She was feisty. She had no problem speaking up or talking back. That could be an issue.
“And since we lost Thomas in that storm, we’re down a man. We need someone else to pull weight.”
“We can’t afford anyone else,” the captain said. “We already couldn’t afford Thomas.”
“There’s only eight of us,” Mary said as the innkeeper arrived, slamming two tankards of ale down in front of them. The amber liquid sloshed over the sides and splattered on the table. He sat down a long board with dark pumpernickel bread and a ramekin of creamy honey butter. My mouth watered.
“So sick of this hard bread,” Mary said, lifting it and hitting it on the board with a thwack.
I shot her a glare. These entitled people didn’t realize how good they had it. This bread was far more than I’d ever gotten growing up. It was a treat. I’d take it if she was going to complain about it.
“Mary.” The captain pinched the bridge of his long nose, a noticeable bump in the ridge. “Can you stop complaining for just one moment?”
The barkeep set down my ale and bread in front of me, and I tore off a chunk, then dipped it into the butter, popping it into my mouth. I almost moaned but stopped myself.
He ran a finger along his mustache. “We need to figure out how we’re going to get across the Dark Seas with only eight crew members.”
This was it. I shot a sidelong glance at the captain. This would be perfect. They needed a crew member. I wouldn’t ask for any pay—just passage. That ought to shut Mary up, even with my companions who’d have to travel with me.
Now I just needed to act.
I leaned forward, bumping my tankard. It tipped and spilled all over the table. The captain popped up while Mary shrieked.
“Someone’s already had too much to drink,” a bearded man yelled, and everyone burst into laughter. “Cut her off, Johan!” he yelled to the barkeep, who walked over with towels to sop up the mess.
I turned to the captain, his trousers with a wet stain right in the crotch.“I’m so sorry,”I signed.
His brown eyes crinkled. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
