Zelia
“Is she not magnificent?” I ask Remy where we stand on the docks, admiring my brand-new ship, The Ghost of Bordeaux. The red flag with a golden B on it, playfully wafting in the wind.
“A masterpiece,” Remy agrees.
It is day fifty since I left my home and Remy and I have spent every day together and I grew fond of him. He is the brother I never had. With his help, I managed to rally up a crew of one hundred and fifty women. But not just any women. Fighters. Women that had to fend for themselves all their lives. Women that know how to work hard and to fight.
“Thank you, Remy,” I look at him with sincere gratitude. “This would not have been possible without your help. How can I ever repay you?”
“I owe you my life, Zelia,” he smiles. “This was the least I could do.”
“Consider us ev
