“... new Ice Queen and her husband...”
My ears perk up at the mention of Elva. What I wouldn’t give to get to talk to her again. Maybe once I am with my uncle, I can call her.
“Captain is grumpier than...”
“... so many rules.”
I seal all the notes the same way as I had with the one in the mess hall, except this time, I write numbers to order them.
Time to get some exercise in. I need to train up these legs.
Once I am finished, I grasp onto some nearby railing and stand. There is no sign of Erik, so I clumsily lope up the stairs and duck behind a stack of crates covered in a faded blue tarp. One of the men walks in front of me, his conversation mostly centered on the fights.
I jump out, lose my footing, and grasp his shoulder. He startles, but when he looks at me, it’s as if he’s seen a ghost. I smile, stumble, hand him the note, and then dash away.
I repeat similar processes, snaking in and out of obstacles like an eel until they are all handed out. I find that if I crawl, I can move faster. The gods above must’ve smiled at me because I neither saw Erik nor Conrad. I am surprisingly silent without shoes. All the hiding and ducking around is exhilarating. A smile creeps on my face. My new muscles burn like they have been boiled. Narrowly avoiding the thick, industrial cable that swings down from the mast, I continue running back down the stairs and to the mess hall.
I’m getting the hang of this! My hair whips against my face, my feet connect with the sunbaked surface, and the salty air fills my new lungs.
When the sunshine warms my skin, it banishes all of the frostiness from my icy home. A strange thing happens because instead of heating my skin, my insides feel on fire too. Running isaddicting.
I trip down the last step, the tiredness finally catching up with my agility. When I hit the ground, my feet stumble. A nearby chair is the unfortunate victim of my clumsiness, and I crash into it. Moments later, the same man from before runs into the hallway. He bites his lip when he sees me again, and I give him a sheepish smile as I sit up.
Allowing kindness to get the best of him, he hurries over and helps me up. He’s older but has a gentle face. I like the way the deep lines on his face make him seem like he’s smiling even when he’s not.
“There we are, miss,” he drawls. Once I’m back on my feet, he promptly lets go. “Are you all right?”
I nod.
He smiles, turning away, and I pull out my notepad. I frown because it's starting to run out of pages. He stops, quirking a brow. I sloppily scrawl out,
Thank you.
He reads the small note. When he looks back at me, I mouth the words and bow my head a bit.
His sun-aged lips are tan and covered with brown freckles. They twitch when he smiles. “Would you like to eat?” He gestures to one of the tables near the kitchen.
I nod eagerly.
“Right this way… Madeline? Is that right?”
Bouncing my head from side to side, I shake my hand a bit as if to say,more or less.
He laughs at my action and says, “I’ll be right back.”
Plopping into one of the chairs, I keep thinking that this is my chance to talk to someone who doesn’t hate my guts—cough,Daddy, Hallie, Erik, the list goes on—and seems like they would listen to me.
While he’s away, I write out a list of questions. What’s his name, why is he on this ship, and where can I find a clock and maybe some clothes?
A few moments later, he comes out with two plates. He sets one down in front of me, and I greedily look at the breaded fish filets and salad. I dig in, eating quickly.
He looks almost ashamed when he sees how fast I eat. I tilt my chin, chewing in full view and allowing him to feel bad for everyone treating me coldly. I know it’s not his fault, but he might chastise the others.
A Crown Princess is still a Crown Princess, even if she can’t speak… and no one but the captain knows who she is.
Ready to move on from my meal, I pull out the pad, point to the first question, and then pass it to him.
He looks between me and the pad before reading. “My name? I’m Jean Luc.”