Freedom's Horizon (WLW) (Full Trilogy - Ongoing/Editing)

Book One: Part Two: Chapter Twenty-One

This chapter contains themes of action/violence.

February 1726, Marie-Galante Island, Guadeloupe

Aimee, Margaret and Felipe made their way to Governess Lowell's offices to finalize their most recent merchandise and get the specifics on their next expedition. After the night they had, Aimee just wanted to keep Margaret in her sights, regardless if it was common place for her to attend these meetings or not. Never one to bore herself with these tedious matters, Aimee had always found something more interesting to do. She typically stayed on the Scarlet each time Margaret had business to tend.

Rather than what most would assume, that all the sophisticated, lucrative discussions would simply go over her head, Aimee grew uninterested when discussing such dry topics. She spent most of her time on the ship anyways. Aimee would forever prefer working with her hands. She wasn't planning on making a change any time soon. Although when she'd seen Margaret collapse and speak the old language so fluently, she knew she couldn't let her out of her sight again. Aimee stuck to Margaret like the strongest adhesive known to man and refused to leave her even once last night.

As Aimee laid there next to her captain the night prior, she'd seen only relaxation and rest. None of the signs she expected were ever present the entire night. How bizarre it was to anticipate said signals due to the fact she couldn't put her finger on what it even meant in the first place hadn't escaped Aimee. It wasn't like Margaret didn't have a dark side, they all did, but this seemed to go deeper. That much was obvious after seeing the strife literally change Margaret's appearance, darkening her veins and sending her body into a panic.

It had taken all Aimee's strength to get her back to the ship. When she finally had, Margaret hadn't left her bunk the rest of the evening as if dead to the world in her unplumbed slumber. Although now, she was acting as if the night hadn't happened. As if she hadn't collapsed, or even remembered finding out Aimee was no longer taking the elixir. It surpassed simple oddity and made a new churning in her gut, leading her to keep an eye on Margaret for the foreseeable future.

"Captain Margaret, it's always a pleasure. And I see you finally brought me your third in command." Governess Lowell said as she walked toward them upon their entering her office. She shook Margaret's hand, but kept her eyes on Aimee and glanced her up and down. Something in her eyes spoke to just how much her curiosity was outweighing proper etiquette, then she fully turned her attention toward her. Suddenly feeling exceedingly aware of the eyes in the room gazing at her, Aimee felt herself taking a step back before she'd even given herself permission. Something about this woman was off-putting to say the least. "It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Cruz."

The governess outstretched her hand and against her better judgment, Aimee took it. The woman stared intently into her eyes as if she was seeing something there she hadn't in anyone else, then smiled.

"You're even prettier than Margaret boasted. Would it not be prudent to find a good man and settle down?" Lowell asked as she led Aimee to her desk, placing her hand in the crook of her elbow. Aimee glanced back toward Margaret and Felipe. They both just remained as nonchalant as ever, following closely behind. "You could have a sedentary life. Perhaps I could introduce you to possible suitors while you are still in town? You are quite fetching, after all."

"Umm...I think not." Aimee let herself be guided to an armchair and sat down. She felt the governess give her hand a few pats before releasing it. Peering back up toward her face, she found Lowell's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she visibly assessed Aimee's petite form. It set her teeth on edge, though Aimee fought to remain relaxed. Feeling the governess was quickly becoming aware of how uncomfortable Aimee felt, she feigned a smile as she spoke through a small slitted mouth, "I do not have any interest in settling down. As cliche as the phrase may be, the sea is my home."