Whispers Of The Sea // Will Turner

Yearing For The Sea

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of amber and violet, when the maids came for me. Their hands moved with practiced precision, but the tension in the room was palpable as they struggled with the corset for the third time today.

"Please, Miss Isabella, if you could just-"

"I am," I muttered through gritted teeth, trying to suck in my breath as tightly as I could.

It was the third formal gown of the day, and the most confining. The ceremony this morning had required something grand, the luncheon another look altogether, and now this-the evening's crowning event: the Commander's Ball.

A sharp tug on the laces made me wince. "Enough," I said, holding up a hand. "It's fine."

The head maid, Anne, glanced at me with a worried expression. "But, Miss-"

"I said it's fine," I repeated, forcing a tight smile as I looked into the mirror.

The dress was beautiful, there was no denying that. A deep emerald green, it shimmered in the candlelight, the silk flowing like water down to the floor. The bodice was embroidered with gold, and a necklace of pearls sat heavily around my neck. Yet despite the finery, I felt as though I were suffocating, not just in the corset but in the life I was expected to lead.

Anne smoothed down the skirt and stepped back. "You look stunning, Miss Isabella."

"Thank you, Anne," I replied, though my heart wasn't in it. The compliment, however well-intentioned, did little to lift my spirits.

"Shall I fetch your fan?" Anne asked.

I nodded absently, my mind already drifting to the night ahead. It would be like every other ball-forced conversations, polite smiles, and eyes constantly watching, judging.

All the while, I would be expected to play the role of the dutiful young lady, to be seen and not heard, to smile and dance, and pretend as though I didn't long to be anywhere but here.

When the fan was brought to me, I took it with a sigh. "Let's get this over with," I said, more to myself than to Anne.

The carriage ride to the governor's mansion was short, but it felt like an eternity.

The streets of Port Royal bustled with life as I peered out the window, watching as merchants closed their stalls for the night and ships rocked gently in the harbor.

The sea was so close, its scent carried on the breeze, mingling with the perfumed air inside the carriage. I inhaled deeply, savoring the salty tang, and for a moment, I imagined what it would be like to simply run away. To leave all of this behind and disappear into the vastness of the ocean.

But the carriage pulled to a stop, and the fantasy dissolved like mist. The door swung open, and I was ushered out into the grand entrance of the mansion, where the Commander's Ball was already in full swing.

The ballroom was a kaleidoscope of color and sound, a whirlwind of silks, satins, and jewels, all swirling together under the glittering chandeliers.

I entered quietly, slipping past the other guests with practiced ease. My aim was simple: find a corner, grab a drink, and avoid as much attention as possible.

The corner I chose was near the back, away from the dance floor and the main clusters of people. I found a small table draped in a velvet cloth and sat down, grateful for the temporary reprieve.

"Negus, Miss?" a server asked, appearing with a tray of drinks.

"Yes, please," I replied, taking one of the delicate crystal glasses.