Saltwater sprayed into the cool air each time the prow of the schooner slapped against the sea with each rise and fall of the waves. Skamsen breathed in the misty foam, his nostrils drinking as much as they could as he tried to distract himself from the churning of his stomach also rising and falling with the sea. They’d been on this leg of their voyage for several sick-filled hours. He’d tried to prepare for this stage of the journey by sailing for a day or so weeks prior. The time hadn’t been sufficient to earn his sea legs. He kept his gaze on the moon heading toward the western horizon, the only object he could focus on that didn’t move with the bay waters. He hoped their time on this vomitous vessel neared completion.

He turned and glanced aft at the helmsman who swayed easily with the rhythm of the boat, a grin on his face visible due to the bright lunar light. He appeared to be chuckling.

“Jadu, my land-lubbing mate, would you care for some gruel?”

Skamsen raised a fist to his mouth and coughed, choking down bile. Instead of answering vocally, he shook his head. The sailor seemed to know what Skamsen was trying to ask.

“It’ll be a bit longer, I’m affeered. If ye keep yer eyes on the bluffs to the north, yer stop is just past the largest outcropping sticking out into the briny.”

Nodding, Skamsen fixed his attention on the steadiness of the moon and tried to focus on the next stages of his journey. His thoughts kept running to the Lady who’d retired below deck to try and sleep. He could hardly believe things had gone as smoothly as they had. She’d left the relative safety of the castle to go willingly with him out into the unsavory world. He couldn’t tell if she truly believed him or needed a reason to leave the indignity of being the whore of the lord’s brother. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t needed to drug her or render her unconscious in some other way.

He thought it would be difficult to convince her to lie in the secret compartment of the cart that transported them out of the castle gates. With nary a hesitation she had climbed inside and remained quiet until well outside the walls and alone on the desolate road to the wharf. After letting her out, she sat beside him on the cart, clinging to his arm until they reached the bay. Surprisingly, she had remained silent, not seeking answers to the many questions she must’ve had.

“Jadu,” said the sailor at the helm, a sense of urgency in his voice. “It be time.”

With unsteady legs, Skamsen headed aft, grabbing onto every piece of the ship he could along the way. “I don’t…I don’t see the outcropping.”

The sailor pointed. “It’s just to the northwest. The tide is pulling heavy toward the moon, and the wind is pushing hard with it. You’ll have to row hard to not go past it.”

Skamsen nodded and went below to rouse the lady. He knelt by her cot and touched her shoulder. Upon opening her eyes and seeing him standing over her, she grinned and ran a hand through her golden locks, releasing the sweet scent trapped within the waves of her hair.

“Master Skamsen, is it time to leave or are you here to make love to me?”

Ignoring the second question, he answered the first. “Just about.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? It’s just about time? And look at me not ready in the slightest. My hair is a mess, my face must be smudged, and my clothes are still on.”

The schooner hit a larger wave causing his stomach to heave. Again covering his mouth, he choked down more bile.

“Is the thought of having your way with me that loathsome?” she said, a mischievous grin on her lips.

“Of course not. I mean, it’s time to leave.”

As he struggled again with another large rocking of the boat, she sat up, her hair fluttering about her shoulders. He unconsciously drank in her fragrance, which immediately calmed his roiling innards.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You would be so easy to seduce, master Skamsen. All it takes is a bit of lavender…”

“That’s not lavender. It’s Eastern freesia.”

“Really?”

“If it was lavender, you’d be dead.”

“Are you that well versed in flowers?”

“Just the ones that can kill. Lavender doesn’t exist anymore since decades ago someone crossed it with a deadly southern hyacinth.”

“I didn’t think that story true. So that’s why the Empress ordered them all destroyed.” The lady grabbed a lock and smelled it. She then held it close for Skamsen to smell. She smelled it again. “I guess I can no longer remember what lavender smells like.”

“It’s a lot sweeter smelling, too sweet. I prefer Eastern freesia.”

She grinned at him before standing and tying her hair back with a pink ribbon. “Shall we?”

Once top side, the helmsman urged them to make haste. Skamsen scurried down to the dingy in tow beside the schooner then helped the lady onto the unsteady boat before releasing the towline. Grabbing the oars, he began rowing and told the lady to hold the rudder steady and guide it toward the rock north, not toward the outcropping. Nodding, she held the tiller tight against her body, the thin piece of wood tucked under her arm.

Although the larger schooner cut easily through the waters, the waves threatened to overturn the smaller boat. Skamsen questioned his decision to row to shore. The helmsman had refused to get any closer to the rocks. Skamsen had needed another method to throw off the trailing assassin. Before boarding the schooner, he’d sent the cart and horse north toward to cross the land bridge between the southern and northern continents. The time gained by causing Vicanda to track and then back track would give Skamsen the necessary advantage to reach the mountain trails. If he couldn’t get the dingy to shore, there’d be no mountains in his future.

Skamsen rowed and rowed, fighting the water, wind and waves. To the east, the horizon began showing signs of the sun’s wakening. His arms ached with each pull. As his back was to the shore, all he saw was the blackness and openness of the sea. He’d no way of knowing if all his toiling was for naught.

“I see a light on the shore,” said the lady, needing to shout to be heard above the sound of the waves slapping against the hull.

“That’s where we are heading to.”

“Then we shall have to steer toward the east.”

“What?” Skamsen turned and found the light. They were too far west. “Point us eastward!”

The lady pointed the nose of the tiller north east toward the light.

“That’s the wrong way!” said Skamsen, pulling harder on the oar on his right. “Point it opposite so the rudder will take us east.”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled the tiller the other direction. “I’m not a sailor. Don’t yell at me!”

“I’m not yelling. I’m…I’m raising my voice so you can hear me. That’s good. Keep it right there.”

A positive side effect of rowing like mad meant he no longer felt like puking. After what seemed hours, he looked over his shoulder toward the light. It was still eastern along the shore but not as far as what he had feared. Gritting his teeth, he pulled harder on the oars, his eyes locked on her face. Lips pressed tight together, her focus fixed on the shore light, she struggled to hold the rudder steady. Despite the cold, sweat ran down both of their faces.

A few more pulls brought them past the large outcropping. He could feel the weight of the ocean lessen, though now it drove them toward the face of the next cliff jutting out.

“Go ahead and point us more toward the east. I’ll have to try and drive against the tide more or we’ll be dashed against the rocks.”

She nodded and leaned into the tiller.

Minutes later, he felt more pull of his oars in the water, each row digging into the sea and driving the small craft further ahead. He eased up and focused on keeping the boat steady as they rode the waves to shore. Glancing toward the beach, he signed in relief at seeing the light shine much brighter now that they neared it. As he turned to give directions to the lady, she swooned and fell overboard. He leapt aft to grab her but missed everything. He dug into the water where she’d plunged into the sea, trying to latch onto her dress. His hands came up empty. The sea still black, he saw nothing, the waves washing away any trace of her. Without further hesitation, he dove toward where he thought she’d gone under and let the sea take him to hopefully where it had taken her. He tried going deeper to reach the bottom. Her dress would be heavier than his garb. If it had felt like hours while rowing, it now seemed like days underwater as he kicked and flailed, trying to find something of hers to grab.

He blew out air to go lower, not caring if he ran out. If she died, he died. It had been an ambitious plan from the start. Skamsen knew his station, status and ability. In a match face to face, he’d lose against Vicanda, needing guile and deception to defeat the notorious assassin. It seemed Skamsen had only defeated himself.

His chest ached to bursting. While debating rising for a gulp of air or breathing in the sea, his foot ran against something soft like seaweed. He reached and touched fabric. Double-hand pulling on it like a sailor taking in rope, Skamsen dragged on her dress until he found her body. Wrapping an arm around her chest and under her shoulder, he kicked toward the surface.

After drinking in the blessed night air, he used the fresh oxygen to call out to those waiting on the shore. Fighting the sea, the waves pushing him toward shore and under water, he struggled to keep the Lady’s head above water.

A great surge lifted them both before spewing them into the sand. Sea water filled his mouth as well as sand. He coughed and sputtered while keeping a tight grip on the Lady as they rolled to a stop.

 She didn’t breathe. Within moments, footsteps splashed toward him. A pair of hands dragged him onto dry sand. Another man dragged the lady. Limbs dead with fatigue from rowing and swimming, Skamsen crawled toward her lifeless body and shook her shoulders. “My lady. Open your eyes.”

“Stand aside,” said one of the men who’d pulled them from the water. “Let me at ‘er.” Kneeling beside her, the man placed his mouth on hers and blew into her lungs. Her chest rose with each blow. He blew time and again. Skamsen moved the man aside and shook the lady, her head bobbing from side to side. The other man shoved Skamsen aside as the first again blew into her lungs. This time, the air going in met water trying to come out. She gurgled and sputtered before spitting out the ocean. The man turned her on her side as she coughed out the remaining sea inside her chest, wheezing in deep breaths.

“What in the name of sheoll was that?” said Skamsen.

The man shrugged. “I gave her me breath. It’s an old sailor’s trick. She’ll be alright. Come on, son, let’s give her a moment. We’ll go make ready the horses.”

As normal breathing returned, her wheezes turned to sobs, and she hid her face in the sand. Skamsen laid a hand on her shoulder. Upon feeling his touch, she got to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, crying freely into his shoulder. Saying nothing, he wrapped her in a deep embrace.

At length, her sobbing eased, and she began to shiver. Her life giving him renewed strength, he gathered her in his arms and carried her toward the fire. Tears still ran down her cheeks. They seemed different in tone than her others’.

After bringing Skamsen a blanket, the old salt and his son bade them farewell and rode off.

“My lady,” said Skamsen, “we can rest for a moment as you warm by the fire, but we can’t tarry long.”

She nodded. “Take my clothes off me please,” she said through chattering teeth.

A few minutes later, she sat on a log by the fire, the blanket wrapped tightly about her, her dress hanging near the warmth to dry. Skamsen walked into the circle of light cast by the fire and sat across from her. “I’m sorry, my lady. I searched the beach but didn’t find your valise. Even if I did, everything would be wet. We can’t wait for your clothes to dry. You can wear something of mine or ride beside me on the cart wrapped in the blanket. I have another one if you need.”

She nodded, though he wasn’t sure if she had acknowledged what he said.

“Anyway,” he said, “it was due to my stupid plan and gross underestimation of my abilities that I lost your things. I’m sorry.”

“It is me who should be sorry.”

Skamsen shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You did all you could. The rigors of the sea were almost too great for both of us.”

At this remark, she shot him a stern glance. “I did not succumb to the rigors of the sea. I…” She buried her face in the blanket. “Though I don’t know what brings more shame: succumbing to the sea due to lack of endurance and weakness of body; or succumbing to the pains of life due to frailty of mind.”

Skamsen tried to come up with an answer, sensing it might be rhetorical. “I’m not sure what you are saying.”

She sighed. “I gave up, Skamsen. I gave up. I fell willingly into the waters, hoping to find my way to sheoll. I have a husband who wants me dead. Am I right?” Skamsen said nothing. She nodded and continued. “And why wouldn’t he? What value am I to him since I cannot provide him a son…or a daughter. While I was still in his household, he brought a beautiful and voluptuous and fertile young maiden to his bed. Then he sent me off to his in-law to be the bed mate of the lord’s whelp of a brother. Then you come along, the only man I’ve known who can look me in the eye and see me for who I am even when I’m standing naked before him, yet you only need me alive for your own purposes.”

“My lady,” Skamsen began before she cut him off.

“No need, Skamsen. There’s no need to say anything. It’s not your fault. I saw the churning of the waters and heard them calling my name. I gave in to them. Though the waters raged on the surface, beneath the sea all was calm. I grew calm. All was peaceful. I closed my eyes expecting sleep to come easily at last. But it didn’t. For some reason I could not drink in the sea and flee to the underworld. As my chest burned, I decided to fight the sleep and the darkness. It was too late to fight. I don’t know what happened after that. I just remember waking up on dry land. It doesn’t matter why you rescued me. I am grateful to be alive…and to be free. I wish to live, Skamsen.”

“I’m sorry that things…” said Skamsen.

She waved him to silence. “No more apologies. It’s done. I’ve stopped shivering. Make love to me, please.”

She peered intently at him, no mirth visible.

He grinned and stood. “Maybe if we had more time, my lady. We’ve lingered here longer than I intended. I promise you, though, that if we hurry and all goes to plan, we shall pass the night in one of the finest inns along the seaboard.”

“And then you’ll make love to me?”

He nodded and forced a grin. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Her lip curled upward. “Liar.” She stood and felt her clothes. “Still wet. Where’s that other blanket of yours? Unless you wish to sit under this one with me. We could combine our bodies and share our warmth. Of course, you’d have to also be naked for that to work.”

In response, he tossed her the other blanket, hitting her in the face with it.