Chapter 370:
Caspian
The sky doesn't just darken. It collapses.
One moment, we're sailing through calm blue waters, the sun warm on my face, the crew laughing at some joke Smith told. The next, a wall of black clouds rolls over the horizon, moving faster than any storm I've ever seen.
Marina sees it first.
"Storm coming!" Her voice cuts through the air like a blade. "All hands on deck! Now!"
The crew erupts into motion. Men scramble up the rigging, bare feet finding holds I can't even see. Sails are furled, ropes coiled, hatches battened. Marina is everywhere—shouting orders, pointing, shoving men into position.
"Secure the guns!"
"Lower the yards!"
"Brace the masts!"
I've seen her give orders before. But this—watching her move through the chaos with calm, certain authority,this is different.
Her red hair whips across her face. Her eyes are fixed on the horizon. She doesn't flinch when the first raindrop hits her cheek.
I flinch for her.
