ECLIPSE, grishaverse

iv. the duel

STURMHOND'S SCHOONER WASN'T at all like the merchant ship that has taken the crows and her to Ketterdam or the clunky and smelly whaler they'd left behind. It was sleek, heavily armed and beautifully built. Tamar had told them Sturmhond liked the vessel so much that he captured it from a Zemini pirate who was picking off Ravkan ships near the ports. He'd taken it for his own flagship and renamed it Volkvolny. Wolf of the waves.

Tamar's cabin was tiny, with barely enough room for three hammocks and a chest. The walls were lined up with cupboards full of unused ointments and salves, arsenic powder, tincture of lead antimony. Tamar and Alina talked for a few minutes while Yelena was balancing carefully on one of the hammocks, thinking about the situation they were in and digesting the new information. What if the Darkling caught up with them? What would they do then? The sea-whip was Alina's now and he couldn't control her in any other way, right? But Yelena knew he would find another way, and he wouldn't give up. His eyes gleamed thirsty for power and vengeance, she saw that same glimmer in the eyes of merchants, thieves and bosses back in Ketterdam. He wouldn't stop until he gets what he wants. They had to put an end to this sooner or later. And Yelena didn't want to think about the outcome of it all.

They washed up that afternoon and changed into other clothes Tamar lended them, Yelena's black ones could be compared to rags. Now she was dressed in sailor clothes, a white t-shirt, a brown corset and pants, her knives were always on her and she wore her dark hair down. Later that day, they were invited to dine with Sturmhond in his quarters where everything was gleaming wood and polished brass. There was a desk littered with charts, the pieces of a dismembered sextant, and strange drawings of what looked like the hinged wing of a mechanical bird. The table glittered with Kerch porcelain and crystals. The wines bore labels in different languages, probably all plundered.

The meal was served by a steward, a servant of impeccable manners who was older than all of them. Yelena's appetite had come back probably because of using her powers once again and she ate better than she had in weeks: fresh bread, roasted haddock, pickled radishes, and a sweet cold wine. Just how she liked it. And it reminded her a little of those nights in the Crow Club too.

They were sitting in a large beautiful table, Yelena and Sturmhond at each end while Mal and Alina were facing each other in the middle. The men were talking about guns, grenades and exciting ways of making things explode. How well David would fit here, she thought. Alina was eating silently with her mind anywhere but there. And Yelena's gaze was fixed in the man in front of her after studying the room. His hair looked a little more brighter now, like the color was washing off, and his eyes were still muddy green. But there was something odd with his features. They didn't fit well with one another. At some point he caught her piercing gaze on him and he turned his face away from the light. She narrowed her grayish eyes. That's very suspicious.

"Lena?" Alina asked, Mal and her were standing up to go back to their cabins but Yelena was still sitting.

"Go ahead, I'll be there in a minute." She smiled while leaning back on the chair and sipping the rest of her wine.

Malyen eyed her for a moment, trying to guess what she was up to but found nothing on her features. They left soon after and the captain's cabin went silent as they locked eyes.

"So," Yelena started. "Which one? Luchova, Radimov, Pensky?" she asked him.

"Beg your pardon?" he said faking confusion, but she saw him tense for a second.

"Heard a lot of stories about you.."

"Yes, I am very famous." he said, smirking.

"But," she followed. "I've never thought you could be from a noble family or a runaway. You did surprised me."