Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 56

He straightens up, his towering frame instantly closing the distance between us again. He reaches out, his thumb catching my chin and tilting my face up so I can see the absolute seriousness beneath his playful grin.

"If you want the wind in your face, Iris, I won't be the man to lock you away. You want to learn the Wake? Fine. But sailing a vanguard hull isn't a walk through a garden. Those sails will tear the skin right off your palms if you don't hold the line right, and the wheel will break your ribs if a rogue wave catches the rudder."

He drops his hand, a dangerous, thrilling challenge dancing in his eyes as he steps toward the cabin door and throws it open. The roaring chorus of the open ocean—the crashing of massive waves, the screaming of the wind through the rigging, and the rhythmic shanties of the crew—floods into the room.

"Come on then, sailor," Kaelen calls over his shoulder, a fierce, brilliant smile breaking through his scruff as he steps out into the companionway. "Let's go show Boulder and the boys that our master apothecary can handle a mainsheet. But the moment your arms turn to jelly, don't think I won't carry you right back in here."

"I'll be out in a moment," I murmur against his scarred cheek, the stubble scratching lightly against my lips before he turns with a grin and heads out to the deck.

The heat is already rising. The sun baking down on my heavy leather apothecary gear is suffocating, and I know it will only get worse once I'm handling ropes and breathing salt air. Thankfully, I had the foresight to grab a few proper provisions at the clothing merchant's stall near the upper terrace market.

I quickly strip out of my heavy travelling coat and pull on the new garments. The top is a loose, flowing white linen—breathable enough to catch the ocean breeze, but designed with long, voluminous sleeves that lace tightly around my wrists to shield my skin from the burning sun. Next comes a long, heavy skirt of deep emerald green. It’s made of a sturdy, woven cloth meant to survive the rough scuff of ship deck timber, but it cuts wide and flows beautifully, allowing me to step and move with total ease.

I pull the skirt up high, catching it tight right at the base of my ribs, and cinch it firmly with a thick leather belt. I slide my practical apothecary dagger into its holster at my hip—out of the way, but perfectly within reach. Finally, I gather the wild, heavy mass of my gold curls, twisting them up and pinning them securely to the back of my head so the wind won't whip them into my eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I push open the heavy cabin door and step out into the blinding midday light of the deck.

The transition is breathtaking. The Vanguard's Wake is fully alive now, crashing through the deep blue swells of the open sea. White sea-spray explodes over the bow, catching the sunlight in glittering rainbows. Above, the massive canvas sails are completely full, snapping violently against the wind like trapped thunder.

I plant my boots, adapting to the rhythmic, heavy roll of the ship, and watch the men work. Boulder is near the mainmast, his bare, sun-baked shoulders glistening with sweat as he hauls on a massive hemp line, leading a rhythmic hauling chant with three other men. Sailors are climbing the rigging like spiders, their bare feet gripping the ropes with terrifying confidence.

At the raised helm, Kaelen stands with his large hands gripping the massive wooden spokes of the ship's wheel. The wind is tearing through his dark hair, and the sheer, commanding joy on his face as he guides the massive beast of a ship through the waves is mesmerizing.

As I stand there, a few of the crewmen glance over. The murmurs from this morning are entirely gone. Seeing me dressed for work, a dagger at my hip and a fierce look of determination in my eyes, several of them give me gruff, respectful nods. Boulder even lets out a loud whistle over the wind. "Look out, boys! The lady’s come to show us how to pull a line!"

Kaelen looks down from the wheelhouse, his moss-green eyes sweeping over my new attire. A slow, deeply appreciative look burns in his gaze, his smirk widening as he spots the dagger. He lifts a hand from the wheel, gesturing for me to come up the wooden steps to the helm.

"Watch the line!" a voice shrieks from the rigging, but it's already too late.

A massive snapping sound echoes across the deck as a heavy hoisting rope slips its winch. The thick, frayed hemp is whipping across the deck like a striking viper, moving with terrifying speed, coiling and gathering momentum as it tears straight toward Boulder's ankles. With the ship currently leaning hard into a deep swell, if that heavy, moving mass catches his boots, the sheer momentum will sweep him off his feet and drag him right over the edge into the churning, white-crested abyss below. He doesn't see it. He’s looking up at the sails.

My brain doesn't even pause to calculate. The instinct that guided my hand at the tavern takes over completely.

In one smooth, explosive movement, my hand flies to my hip. My fingers wrap around the hilt of my apothecary dagger, drawing it from the leather holster as I take a sharp step forward. I lean into the roll of the ship, lock my eyes onto the exact inch of oak just ahead of Boulder's boots, and launch the blade.

The dagger flies true, glinting fiercely in the midday sun.

THUNK.

The heavy steel blade buries itself deep into the deck timber, pinning the very tail end of the frayed rope flat against the wood. The line jerks violently, snapping taut with a loud crack as its momentum is stopped dead in its tracks—barely an inch from the toe of Boulder's heavy leather boot.

The burly sailor whips around, his face pale as he looks down at the deck, tracking the path of the lethal line, and then looks up at the vibrating hilt of my dagger. The entire deck goes dead silent again. Boulder looks up at me, his eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated shock.

I don't say a word. I briskly walk down the inclined deck, my emerald skirt swirling around my boots, my face set in a mask of calm, unbothered focus. I step right up to the massive sailor, who is currently staring at me as if I just dropped from the heavens.

Boulder quickly grabs hold of the slackened, thick rope to secure it to a nearby cleat, his hands shaking just a fraction. "My gods, mistress..." he breathes, his voice a low, stunned rumble.

I lean down, wrapping both of my hands around the hilt of my dagger. It is wedged incredibly deep into the ancient, hardened oak of the deck. Planting my boots firmly, I use every ounce of my strength, putting my weight into it until the wood groans and finally releases the blade with a sharp pop.

I wipe the edge of the steel against my skirt, slide it smoothly back into its holster, and look up at the towering man.

"I told you," I say, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet deck, a small, knowing smirk playing on my lips. "My iron is just as strong as yours. Now secure that line properly, sailor. We have a trench to find."

Up on the wheelhouse, Kaelen lets out a loud, roaring laugh of absolute triumph, his moss-green eyes bursting with a fierce, burning pride that could light up the entire ocean. He grips the wheel with one hand, shaking his head in pure amusement. "That's my girl!" he shouts over the wind.

I head over toward the wheelhouse steps, adjusting the leather belt at my hips as the crew explodes into a frenzy of excited chatter behind me. Boulder is loudly recounting the throw to three other sailors, gesturing wildly with his massive arms to show how close the blade came to his toes.

Silas is leaning heavily against the dark wooden railing of the stairs leading up to the helm, his arms folded tightly over his chest. His single good eye is locked onto me, and that rare, genuine smirk is planted firmly across his weathered face.

As I reach the base of the steps, he lets out a low, gravelly whistle, shaking his head.

"Tavern wenches, indeed," Silas rumbles, his voice thick with a mixture of amusement and deep respect. He straightens up slightly, tilting his head toward the upper deck where Kaelen is still grinning like a madman. "I've seen seasoned marines fumble a line under pressure, Iris. But you? You didn't even blink. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you spent your youth on a privateer hull instead of bending over potion bottles."

He looks back out over the deck, where the energy of the men has completely transformed. The heavy, doom-laden atmosphere of a 'death run' has been entirely replaced by a sharp, eager focus.

"They won't just follow Kaelen into that trench now," Silas says softly, his tone turning serious as he looks back down at me. "They'll follow you. You just saved their first mate, and you did it with the kind of steel they understand. There isn't a man on this ship who will question your place here again."

He gestures up the stairs with a nod of his chin. "Go on up to the captain. He looks like he’s about to burst if he doesn't get to brag about you."

I climb the wooden steps to the helm, the wind catching my emerald skirt and sending it swirling around my boots. Kaelen doesn't turn around as I approach, but I see his broad shoulders relax instinctively, sensing my presence before I even touch him.

I step up right behind him and wrap my arms tightly around his massive waist, burying my face against the sturdy expanse of his back. I lean my forehead into his spine, closing my eyes and letting out a long, shuddering breath I didn't realize I've been holding since we left the harbour.

I breathe him in deeply. He smells of the open sea—sharp salt and cold spray—blended with the faint, metallic tang of his broadsword, woodsmoke from the galley, and that raw, undeniable power that radiates from him like heat from a furnace. Against the shifting, unstable motion of the massive ship, he feels like an unmovable mountain. He is my absolute anchor.

Kaelen lets out a low, content rumble that vibrates straight through his back and against my forehead. He releases one of his massive hands from the iron-spoked wheel and reaches down, wrapping his calloused fingers over mine where they are locked around his waist, squeezing them with a fierce, quiet intensity.

"You're full of surprises today, Red," he murmurs, his deep voice carrying over the rushing wind, rich with a pride so thick it's almost palpable. He tilts his head back slightly, looking over his shoulder down at me, a brilliant, breathtaking smile cutting through his dark scruff. "First you rewrite a century of deep-sea medicine, then you insult my entire vanguard, and now you're saving my crewmen with a throwing dagger? If you keep this up, I'm going to have to give you the captain's hat."

He turns his hand, threading his fingers through mine, anchoring me even closer against his side as he guides the ship through a massive, rolling swell.

"Look out there," he says softly, his moss-green eyes scanning the horizon where the deep blue water begins to darken into an ominous, heavy grey. "That's where we're heading. But with you at my back? I don't care what's waiting in those trenches. We're going to conquer it."

I step out from behind him, slipping smoothly under his arm to stand directly in front of his massive chest. I lean my back firmly against him, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat against my spine as the wind whips a few loose, golden curls across my face.

I reach up and place my hands over the cold, polished oak spokes of the heavy wheel. Instantly, Kaelen’s large, warm hands come down to cover mine, his long fingers completely enveloping my grip. The sheer weight and resistance of the ocean pushing against the rudder vibrates straight up through the wood and into my arms. It's a heavy, living force, but with Kaelen’s strength anchoring mine, the ship yields.

"Easy now, Red," he murmurs right against my ear, his deep voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down my neck. "Feel that pull? That’s the current trying to drag the bow toward the shallows. Don't fight it with a jerk. Just a gentle lean... steady her out."

Together, we nudge the massive wheel a fraction to the left. The Vanguard’s Wake responds beautifully, cutting smoothly through a cresting white wave, throwing a spectacular spray of diamonds into the air.

I look up over my shoulder at him, a soft, breathless smile breaking across my lips as the wind bites at my cheeks. "You're a natural at this," I tell him, my voice full of genuine wonder. "You look at home."

Kaelen looks down at me, his moss-green eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet, profound warmth. The ruthless commander who just threatened to drown a man completely melts away, leaving only the man who looks at me like I'm his entire world.

"I am at home," he says softly, his grip tightening just a fraction over my hands, pulling me a little closer against his chest. "But it's not because of the wood or the water, Iris. It's because you're standing right here with me."