Capsize | h.s

Two

Celia emerged from her quarters wearing the lavish red gown that Harry had given her to change into and she held her sopping wet one she had worn earlier in her arms. Harry sat in front of his desk reading a scroll of paper. She cleared throat to gain his attention and he immediately put down the scroll, raising his eyes to her.

"Where should I hang this to dry?" Celia asked meekly.

Harry stood from his chair and walked towards her, taking the gown from her arms. He then walked over to his desk, dragged the chair over to a nearby window, and spread the dress out over the chair. After pushing the window open, a gust of sea air blew into the cabin, sending a shiver across Celia's body and blowing her hair over her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said.

"You have two hours until we dine," he said. Celia could not believe it was almost time for supper; it was only noon when the Spanish attacked her ship. "We will eat in here. The crew eats elsewhere. Do whatever you like until then."

"Is there anything I should know about the crew? You have extended me kindness, but I'm not so sure about them," Celia said.

Harry smiled slightly, chuckling at her comment. "We work for the Queen, Mistress Celia. You have nothing to fear as long as I am by your side. However, if anyone asks you to play the Knife Game, decline immediately."

"Is that the game the poor fellow lost a finger to earlier?"

"Indeed," he said. "Should be a lesson to them all." Harry mustered a smile, causing one to break out on Celia's face as well. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do." Harry slipped out of the cabin and left Celia alone.

She walked over to his desk, the heel of her shoe making a dull sound as her feet pattered against the wooden floor, much different from the clacking they made when she walked the halls of the castle. On top of the mahogany desk was the scroll Harry had been intently reading earlier. The writing was messy and smudged and did not quite make sense. She held it close to her eyes, narrowing them as she read the gibberish. It was coded.

"Oh!" said a deep voice from behind Celia. She quickly turned around to face the unfamiliar voice and hid the scroll behind her back, out of the person's view. There stood the man who had tended to the man who lost his finger to the Knife Game. "I was looking for the Captain."

Celia hummed in response, unsure of what to say. She carefully leaned against the desk and placed the scroll back in its spot in case the man would come any closer. She did not want to risk getting caught for snooping in government plans, nor did she want to get on the bad side of pirates.

"You're the woman he rescued from the water earlier today, aren't you?" he said, stepping closer.

Celia gave him a small smile. "How'd you guess?"

The man laughed, flashing a bright smile. His blue eyes sparkled. "My name is Luke Williams, I'm the ship's physician."

"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Williams. My name is Celia Wright, I'm a maid of honor to the Queen."

His eyes widened. "Good Bess herself?" Celia nodded. "Is she as demanding as they say?"

"Not at all," Celia shook her head with a laugh. "She is very good to me and her other ladies."

"That is good to hear."

"Is the Captain good to his crew?" she inquired, raising a single brow.

"He runs the ship with an iron fist, but he means well," Luke replied. "Should you ever need anything, do not hesitate to come to me. I could use a friend on board."

"Do you have none?"

"The crew and I have very different ideas of fun."

"Oh?"

"They enjoy playing games where you risk losing a limb, whilst I prefer to play chess."

Celia smiled. "I, too, would prefer a game of chess."

"Perhaps I could challenge you to a match tomorrow?"

"I would like that very much."

♛

On the plate in front of Celia was a slab of beef, a slice of bread, and a small portion of peas. She scrunched her nose up at the sight of the food and glanced up at Harry, who sat across from her. He shoveled the food into his mouth quicker than a starving child. Noticing that she had not touched her food, he raised his brows.

Celia reluctantly stabbed a cube of meat and placed it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, the meat's strange taste causing a sour expression to emerge onto her features, but she quickly swallowed it down and flashed a small smile.

"Not quite like the food at court?" Harry asked.

Celia shook her head. "Not quite," she said.

"So, you live at the castle?"

She nodded. "I'm one of the Queen's maids of honor. My father is one of her most trusted advisors. Or, rather, he was." Celia's eyes drifted to her lap.

The reality of her situation finally sunk in; she was alone. No longer did she have the guidance of her father or the loving advice of her sister. She prayed they were alive and that they would be rescued from the Spanish pirates, but there was a part of her that knew their return was unlikely.

"Excuse me," she said, suddenly standing from the table.

Celia rushed into her quarters and threw herself onto the bed, tears burning streams down her cheeks as she accepted the fate of her family members. She could only hope that when she returned to court—if she returned to court—that the Queen would aid in the search and rescue of her family, or at least assure that Celia would have a place at court despite her father's disappearance.