Page 155 of Sword & Sacrifice

Emmaline ignored it and pushed herself to her feet. Her breath was still a bit short as she demanded, “Take me to your captain.”

Rafe bowed and teased, “Right this way, Your Highness.” Then he led her toward the back of the ship.

Men stared at Emmaline as she passed, their gazes a mix of curiosity and hunger. She found herself inching closer to Rafe, preferring his wastrel attitude to their predatory gazes.

They had to descend a few stairs from the main deck to reach a cabin door. Rafe knocked briskly and waited until someone called, “Enter.”

He opened the door and Emmaline followed him inside, stopping in front of a desk. The man sitting behind it—the captain, she presumed—had bronze hair liberally streaked with silver. Hard lines surrounded his eyes and mouth, like he spent a lot of time smiling or scowling. Emmaline suspected the latter.

“Is this the girl?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

“That’s what Gordon claimed, and she confirmed it. Go on, introduce yourself,” Rafe said, nudging her forward.

Swallowing nervously, Emmaline locked eyes with the man and said calmly, “My name is Emmaline Orestes. I’m a medic from Arnsveld.”

The man scanned her face, pausing on her eyes. Then he barked, “Raphael, you’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied obediently, slipping out the door, leaving Emmaline alone with the new stranger.

She looked behind her, wanting to follow Rafe—to simply walk away from all this confusion.

“Already attached to the boy?” the captain asked, drawing Emmaline’s attention back to him.

“Why am I here?”

The captain stood and walked around the desk. His steps sounded odd and off-beat, one heavy, one light. He was a head taller than her, with large hands and a lithe, muscled frame. Something about his face seemed familiar—the line of his jaw, the shape of his eyebrows—but she couldn’t identify why.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

Emmaline shook her head, then tentatively said, “The captain of this ship.”

His mouth twitched, though he didn’t fully smile. “Yes, but I meant something more than that. My name is Everett Shaw. You said your family name was Orestes.”

In Arnsveld, her family name was well known. Everyone revered her mother and her magic. Sometimes Emmaline heard people invoke her mother’s name as if that alone could cure their ails. Does he need a healer? “Yes, it is,” she answered carefully.

“And your mother is Adelaide Orestes?”

“She is.”

A new fire entered the man’s eyes, one she couldn’t determine the source of. Anger? Triumph? Vengeance? “Has your mother ever spoken of me?” Then he answered his own question, shaking his head. “No, if she had, you would recognize my name.”

He grabbed her shoulder with one hand, and she resisted the urge to step back. The door was the only exit, and she suspected Rafe or another crew member stood guard on the other side. Even if she escaped this man’s grasp, she didn’t have a safe way off the ship.

All escape plans flew from her mind at his next words. “I’m your father, Emmaline. And it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Chapter Six

Ever since Emmaline was a little girl, she’d fantasized about her father. She’d look at the men around her and wonder what traits they shared with him. Was he tall and strong? Solemn and serious? Would he sneak her sweets like the grocer? Or pick her up and swing her around like the soldiers? Every time she asked about her father, Mama only said ‘we’re happier without him.’ But Emmaline had seen the other children with their fathers. Heard them laughing together. Listened to their soothing words as their children sat through painful treatments. She loved her Mama with her whole heart, but she never stopped yearning for someone else to love just as deeply.

Emmaline stared at the man now claiming to be her father, scanning his face a second time, comparing it to her own. Without a mirror, she had to rely on memory, and all she could picture was her mother. “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she murmured, her heart aching as her childhood fantasies withered away, “but I find no pleasure in being brought here against my will.”

Everett’s eyes flashed like the glint of a sword. He took a deep breath, then released her and backed away, walking behind his desk to give her some space. “Did the boys handle you roughly?”

“They drugged me,” she said, her hands fisting in her skirts.

He idly picked up a letter opener and twirled it, finger over finger, in a continuous loop. “I’ll speak with them. I asked them to find and escort you here where you could be safe.”

Her brow furrowed. “How did you know—” she paused, unsure if she should confess the danger she was in. The last person she told had locked her in a cell. She didn’t want the captain—her father—to throw her in the brig.