Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Forty-Nine: Refuge (Part Two)

Nigel leads them to a tavern three blocks away from the harbor and in the middle of the town. "Nigel," Anton clears his throat behind the boatswain. "How confident is the crew in hiding here?"

The boatswain pauses, a hand on the wooden door. "Pretty confident, Captain."

Eleanore sees a frown on Anton's face for a second before he sighs and nods. The door opens inward, and hot, stale air laced with acidic vomit and cheap rum hits their faces.

Madeline gags.

Eleanore brings Madeline's hood down. "Sorry," she whispers. "Nigel-"

"Captain?" Nigel is halfway in.

"She's delicate."

Nigel gasps. "Oh, shite! Apologies, Miss," the boatswain murmurs. "There are rooms upstairs, do you want me to get one?"

"Please?" Madeline squeaks, clinging to Eleanore's arm. Nigel nods and they all make haste to rejoin the crew, walking to the far end of the dim-lighted tavern. Nigel leaves to talk with the proprietor. There are only sleeping drunkards lying on tables at this time of the day.

Victor's golden blond hair pops out from the dark. Beside him sits Ben, raking his hands in his curly hair. And faces Eleanore has never seen last night are also sitting by the table: Ulric, has lost a considerable weight with his blond locks wiry and a bushy yellow beard hides his mouth; Ricky, has cropped hair now and a mustache; and the least expected of all - has familiar blond tousled hair, thin mustache, and vibrant green eyes that finally stare back at hers.

Thibaud.

"Waaaake up!" Torkin announces their arrival. He leaves Eleanore's shoulder to settle atop a beam. "Assembly! Ack! Assembly!"

"You!" Eleanore seethes, taking a threatening step to the table. She points an accusing finger to Thibaud. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Vic raises his hands. "Nellie, Thibaud hel-"

Eleanore glares at him, silencing Victor. He sits back down. Thibaud's jaw clenches, and large beads of sweat trickle down his forehead. He stands up, and makes a move to walk to her. "Maddy, sit down." She gestures to the other table, and Madeline gladly obeys, hiding herself under her cloak.

"Eleanore," Thibaud's smoky deep voice begins. "Wait, hear me-"

Her hands clench to fists. But she remembers how the gown limited her feet. Her hand wanders to her rapier instead, and Thibaud's eyes widen.

He sighs. "Captain, Eleanore, please. Please listen."

"Listen?!" She shrieks. "How dare you!"

Thibaud flinches.

"Anyone cares to explain this to me?" Anton says, standing beside her. "What is this? Why are they here?" Eleanore looks up and sees Anton scowl, arms over his chest. "Last we saw each other, you have made your choice to leave me."

Thibaud's shoulders slump forward. Eleanore raises a brow, hands on her hips. His eyes steal a glance at hers.

I saw this look before.

But never on the ship. Then where?

"Elle!" Thibaud called her by the name only her parents used. "What are you doing at the harbor?"

She snaps back to the present. Thibaud was supposed to be my childhood friend, had we grown up together in Kingston... could it be?

Could it be he wasn't truly against me?