Captain Tao and his crew had no issue with sailing toward Pandoria.
They knew of a port that would serve them just as well as Starhold. Better, in fact, for the simple reason that this particular port did not appear on any chart.
It lay hidden south of the islands, a secret crescent of rock and driftwood carved into the living cliffside as though the sea herself had conspired to conceal it. To the uninitiated eye, it was nothing. A dead stretch of coast. Bare rock and the sound of gulls. Only those unlawful few who had earned the knowledge knew where to look, and they had found it profitable to keep that knowledge close.
"It serves as well as any other berth," the captain had said. "Ships vanish in those waters all the time. Folks claim it's serpents that drag them beneath the waves."
Azela did not know what a serpent was. Nevertheless she said, "We don't want to put you in danger for a couple of stowaways."
The captain barked a laugh. "Serpents? Pah. 'Tis pirates that claim them. As in us, my lady. Have you ever dealt with those accursed wizards? They would sooner make up monsters than admit they were plundered by the likes of us. So they spin tales of beasts in the deep, to keep their pride."
"Will we have to worry about other pirates, then?"
His grin widened. "We got nothing to fear. You know the threat of those handheld cannons my crew carries. Your friend tried to use that fear against us. Tiny things, you'd think nothing of them at a glance. They're relics of a bygone age, salvaged from a vessel the myst swallowed whole and saw fit to cast back. Our luckiest haul, that was." He paused, as though savoring the memory. "Since finding them, no one's troubled my crew more than once. Our reputation does the work for us."
* * *
To replace her "moldy" hide garments, Azela was given a loose linen shirt, a black leather vest, and dark canvas trousers. Mid-calf leather boots were also provided, though she seldom wore them. As the air grew colder and the wind off the water began to bite, she was also given a short coat.
Catherine wore borrowed garments only while her usual outfit, the leather attire from Misyrea, was being washed. She donned it again the moment everything was dry. The leather jacket and matching pants were close to falling apart, but Azela coaxed an admission from her that she liked the frayed look. The dissolving black cotton shirt she wore under the jacket was not going to survive long, though, and their remaining clothes had been lost in the flight from Starhold.
All that was left of their scant possessions were their weapons and whatever they were wearing at the time, which included the Reizu towel. It had still been tied around Azela's waist when they climbed aboard. Catherine was upset to find that the crew's bullets would not fit her stolen pistol, leaving her with only two shots left.
They were given meals with the crew, and their own private room, thanks to Lance's influence. The captain's willingness to sail them nearly straight to their destination had made things simpler, though they were expected to earn their passage. That meant work.
It wasn't easy keeping this leaking old pile of rot afloat. At first glance the ship had seemed sound enough, even impressive. But the truth was quickly apparent. The whole thing was held together with hope, good fortune, and what felt like an optimistic interpretation of the word "nails." A few hours helping with the maintenance revealed how doomed their plan to build their own vessel out of a shipwreck had been.
* * *
Two days flew swiftly by. In her free time, Azela enjoyed the serene view of the ocean from atop the highest sail. Up there, the wind was constant, and the horizon was endless. The mast swayed in long, gentle arcs that she had learned to lean into.
Meanwhile, Catherine often spent her idle hours in Lance's company. Azela could not help but note how frequently she lingered near him, and how readily words seemed to pass between the two.
"You want the sapien to yourself," said a voice on the second night.
Azela woke from whatever dream it was from to find Catherine's hammock empty. She got up to check it, and found that it still held the faint residue of her warmth. She also noticed that their door was slightly ajar.
Groggy, she wandered out to the deck. The ocean was dark and vast, the same in every direction, and the ship felt very small inside it. The wind cut across the open deck, carrying salt into her eyes as she scanned the shadows. There were no signs of her friend, only the few assigned to watch for hazards as they sailed over moonlit waves.
Catherine wasn't the kind of person to be worried about, but Azela was still concerned.
On the way back to her room, the thin line of light beneath Lance's door caught her attention. He was friendly enough to not be bothered if someone visited him in the middle of the night, but something wasn't right.
She stilled. Silent as possible, she crept closer, listening. That's when she realized what was out of place. A smell hung in the corridor, a perfume Catherine had swiped from among the pirates' many stolen goods. When she heard Catherine's voice from within, something knotted in her gut.
She couldn't help herself. Cautiously, she knelt down and brought her eye close to the primitive keyhole.
The room beyond was clear. Lance sat at the foot of his bed, with Catherine pressed against him.
Her hand traveled slowly up his leg.
Azela's heart began to beat faster.
"But I know that you desire me," Catherine whispered before kissing Lance's neck.
Azela's ears immediately shifted her hearing toward that one room, filtering out all other sounds.
Lance caught Catherine's hand before it could move any closer to the center of his lap. A slow breath left him. "I know what you’re doing," he said. "Do you?"
"I’m giving you what you want. I’ve seen the way you look at me." Catherine's voice dropped lower. "You must be lonely on this ship." Her lips brushed his ear. "Let me help with that."
Her hand shifted.
Lance rose sharply to his feet. "We shouldn’t."
Catherine let out a whine, then stretched across the bed. Her fingers found the zipper of her jacket.
It descended slowly.
She said, "Well, if you don't stop me, I will soon be naked on this bed. 'Tis up to you what to do with me... or to me."
A strange warmth moved through Azela. She felt her body tingle. Her eyes stayed fixed on the zipper, on the widening gap of candlelit skin beneath it.
There was no shirt underneath. The candlelight inside shifted as Catherine moved, and the keyhole framed everything in a small, merciless circle.
Azela's cheeks were burning red. Her pulse ran quick with the fear of being caught in this position. For a brief moment, she tried to think of a reason why it wouldn't be wrong to be watching. None came.
Catherine wasn’t her lover. What she did with others was her own business.
She knew, distantly, that the right thing was to stand and walk away.
She didn't.
This would vex her later, in ways that she did not yet understand; not what Catherine was trying to make happen on the other side of that door, but the feelings that came with it.
The jealousy coiling around her lower gut, squeezing, spreading to her chest. Tendrils of deep, unnamed feelings that rose and twisted inside her.
Feelings so new that they felt alien. She let herself feel them.
That wasn't just anyone beyond the door. That was Catherine. Her Catherine. Where she shouldn't be. In an intimate, secret bubble of time and space that Azela was never meant to see.
But she couldn’t look away.
The shadow of movement inside broke her focus. Lance was crossing the room. Instinct kicked in as Azela pulled back from the door. She scrambled upright, prepared to run—
The door swung open.
Behind him, Catherine zipped her jacket with shocked urgency. Lance looked at Azela without surprise.
"Um..." A fresh burst of heat flooded her face. "Is Catherine here?"
Lance glanced back at Catherine, then returned his gaze to Azela. "I don't tolerate spies aboard this ship."
Azela's mind searched for something, anything to say. "C-Catherine wasn't in her hammock, so I started to worry. She wasn't on deck either, so..." Her hands found each other, fingers knotting together. "I saw your light on and decided to ask. I didn't spy anything. I can't see through doors, y'know."
Lance held back a smile. "But you have no problem looking through keyholes. Why didn't you knock? Or is sitting by the door and breathing heavily your way of asking to be let in? Spying is a serious offense, even with little matters like this. The captain would have you thrown overboard."
"'Tis my fault," Catherine lied, "I told her that I was going to seduce you, and she wanted to watch. We didn't mean any harm."
Somehow, that thought made Azela even more flustered. She felt as if she was about to explode.
Lance motioned toward the hallway. "Return to your quarters. This night shall be left unspoken, and thereafter forgotten."
Catherine passed him without meeting Azela's gaze. As Azela turned to follow, Lance gently grabbed her arm. His voice dropped, low enough that only she could hear it. "We will speak again, later." She pulled free and ignored him.
The corridor felt longer than it had been. When they reached their room, Catherine sank to the floor beside her hammock without a word. Azela locked the door and stood there a moment, hand still on the latch.
"How much of that did you see?" Catherine asked.
Azela had braced for anger and knelt beside her. For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean against the hull. She glanced over, then looked away, pretending not to notice the wet shine at the corners of Catherine's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Azela finally managed to say.
"No." Catherine's voice was quiet. "I'm the one who's sorry."
The silence stretched. Azela did not know how to say the things she wanted to say, how to explain how she felt, or even if she ever should. "I thought you were only attracted to girls," she said.
"I am." Catherine drew her knees up slowly. "I tried to feel like I was supposed to. Tried to force myself to. I don't think he was falling for the act."
"Would you have enjoyed it, if he did?"
Catherine considered this a moment, gave it real thought, then admitted, "No. The emotions are… complicated. I'm upset for being rejected, but more so relieved."
"Then why do it?"
Catherine sighed. "I have never... I have not been with a man. Not in that way. Priestesses of Rea are only permitted such thoughts with the intent to bear a child, but now that I'm free..." She stopped, composing herself as she looked away to wipe her eyes.
Azela was reluctant, but her curiosity pushed her. "Have you been with a woman?"
"One, sort of. Not as much as the rumors said we were. Not as much as we were punished for."
Azela did not ask what she was about to. Now was not the time.
Catherine said, "It doesn't matter. I'll never marry. No one could love me. No one would want me, not with these." Her fingers touched the collection of scars on the left side of her face. "'Tis just... sometimes I wonder what it would feel like, just once. Lance seemed the type who might look past my flaws for a single night." She took another breath.
Azela curled an arm around her. "Personally, I think a rosebush without thorns wouldn't be nearly as beautiful." They leaned against each other. "You know that you’re lying. You know how attractive you are. I've seen the confidence you have when you use it to your advantage. Lance was struggling desperately not to give in."
"So you were spying."
"We both discovered things about ourselves tonight. Any more confessions can wait until tomorrow." Azela settled into a more comfortable position, continuing to embrace her as they lay together.
Catherine said nothing more. They stayed like that, with the room quiet and the ship rocking in long, slow swells.
As time passed, Catherine drifted into sleep in Azela's arms. Holding Catherine close, feeling her every breath and burying her face comfortably within Catherine's soft, long hair, the glitch soon followed.