Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Sixteen: Chances

Jon sailed along the coast of Luminya. He already knew that his friends were safe, as it had been days since the battle. But for one, the coast was easy sailing, and for two it was gorgeous. The snow offered a crisp image of the land and all its contours, as he sailed. The spyglass he held was steady in his hand as he scanned the beaches.

Until he saw something moving. A figure walking on the beach. Better yet, a woman. There was only her, the snow, and the sunshine. She carried a pack on her back and even from this distance; she looked proud. He could swear her hair shined in the sunlight. And he knew one undeniable fact. She was as beautiful as any goddess he had ever heard of. It did not matter that he could not see her eyes, or the shape of her nose. She was gorgeous. He felt it in his gut.

A sailor's gut was never wrong.

"Drop anchor," he called with confidence. All the crew hesitated, looking to him in confusion. He pointed to the shore emphatically. "I said drop anchor, dammit! There's a lady stranded on the shore!"

He and his crew moved swiftly, and with a few more orders, he was in a tender and away. He rowed with all he could, but still took spare moments to glance at the woman as he got closer. She had stopped to observe them, her attention turned to the vessel that had anchored out of the blue. Her pack dropped to the snow.

Once the boat hit the shore and its small skiffs of snow and ice, Jon jumped out and helped his crew drag the boat up the beach far enough the ocean would not take it back without them. Turning, he bowed to the woman. "My lady!" he called, already entranced by the red of her hair. "You look as though you might welcome assistance." He gestured with a flourish, still bent over from his bow. "Captain Joneth Mayor at your service."

His gut had been right. She was the most beautiful person he had ever beheld. She had long red hair tied back beneath her hood. It looked like a finely folded wreath of silk. Her green and hazel eyes were sharp, decisive and suspicious, her pouted lips made thicker by the elegant arch of her eyebrows.

"And what might I ask, captain, makes you think I need any assistance?" The woman crossed her arms across her chest.

"It's rare I see anyone traveling alone this time of year, especially not with the world the way it has been. I only thought I should offer my help," Jon said, surprised by the authority in her tone, and the rigid set of her shoulders. Her clothes were simple enough, but he could tell she was accustomed to one city or another. No one from the country had this kind of attitude.

The woman harrumphed. "I only travel the beaches to avoid the deepest snow. I need no aid."

"Not even food? An extra blanket? Aye, even a drink? It's quite cold. And we rowed all the way out here." Jon held out a curious hand, hating the idea of chancing upon her, and being unable to know her.

It was fate, after all. Maybe that was what she was. A goddess of fate. Or maybe one of luck.

"Without invitation, you rowed here. And back you can go without me." The woman's suspicious eyes seemed to lose their hesitance. She was clearly not feeling threatened. "I have no desire to trade for anything. I have no coin, and nothing of value."

Jon deflated under her stern tone. "Your company alone would have been fair trade, lady. Maybe you misunderstand my motive... you are the brightest thing I have seen in years. Your beauty struck me all the way from my ship. I would be naught for sleep, knowing that you travel at such a dangerous time, alone, and that I did nothing to make the strife of this worlds upset lesser upon your shoulders."

The woman snorted at his theatrical word choice, but did not move.

"At least tell me your name?" Jon tried for just the right amount of pleading and respect in his tone.