Excerpt from Chapter One
(SECOND DRAFT WIP)

by Jirina Linnea

      Jules linked his hands behind his back in order to stop himself from fidgeting.

     The days leading up to this meeting had been spent rehearsing what to say in front of a mirror; practicing how to present himself in order to appear as earnest and trustworthy as possible. It was a facade of confidence, but he had wrapped it around his shoulders and carried it with him all the way down to the docks and up the gangway until he stood on the main deck of the ship Ambition.

     He had entered the Captain’s cabin with his spine straight and his head held high, ready to state his case in a concise and convincing manner, as he had been taught in school. Except the Captain had turned around, and everything Jules had practiced had been immediately wiped from his mind.

     It truly wasn’t his fault, either. No amount of rehearsal could have prepared him for how annoyingly, distractingly handsome the Captain was.

     “Of all the things I expected to be dealing with today, this was far down the list.”

     Captain Delian held himself with an air of true confidence — the kind that was earned through experience. A bandana kept his long, dark hair out of a face that was made for smiling, and his warm, brown eyes held a kindness that made Jules want to spill all his secrets.

     Fortunately for the sake of his privacy, as soon as Jules had stepped through the cabin door, the ship’s Quartermaster had captured him in a glare that made him want to keep his mouth shut at all costs.

     It was ironic to the point of humor that she was able to exhibit such a tangible air of intimidation without moving or speaking a single word — a feat that so many in Jules’ life had thought themselves capable of through posturing and condescending words.

    It may have also held a pinch of irony that instead of making Jules want to turn and run, it served to further his resolve. Because both the Captain and the Quartermaster stood before him as their entire selves. There was no need to put on airs or pretend to be something they were not. And that was exactly what had lead Jules to take this chance; to be brave for once in his life and do what his heart was telling him.

     The Captain’s eyes twinkled as if from some inside joke as he glanced over at his Quartermaster. “Say what you want to say, Tess. You are going to, whether I ask for it or not.”

     Tess’s dark eyes never left Jules’ face as she unfolded her muscular arms and gestured toward him with an open palm. “Sorry, Captain, but the truth is he’s gonna get eaten up.” The gold hoops in her nose and ears caught in the sunlight shining through the large windows behind the Captain’s desk. “Either it’ll be the sea, or another crew, or just the workload itself, but it’ll happen.”

     Jules knew he stood out against this setting. His clothes were too clean, his appearance too well groomed, his skin so devoid of the scars that stood out against the dark skin of Tess’s arms. He was too shiny and new against the panels of weathered wood that lines the cabin; too unfamiliar with the charts and parchments that lay across the Captain’s desk, and the tools and odd circular contraptions used to track the stars and tides and course.

     He knew one look at his light, wavy hair, white teeth, and soft hands would place him in a room where servants weaved in and out of shiny, satin gowns offering bite-sized appetizers from polished, silver trays. If someone had walked in on the three of them, they would have wondered what business the fancy gentleman’s son had with the weather-worn pair with swords at their hips and years of life experience and adventure behind their eyes.

     Except what Jules knew more than anything was that he was tired of people deciding he could not or should not do things before he was even given the change to try.

     He was tired of the person everyone perceived him to be; tired of being something to others and nothing to himself.

     Arthur Finnegan’s second son. James Finnegan’s younger brother. The family’s middle child who had so much to live up to. The one who was just a bit too cheerful, a little too soft. The Finnegan child who didn’t have any physical talents or intellectual prowess to make his family proud, as his brother and sister did.

     The one who had learned to roll with the punches, to laugh at himself, to hold his head high for the sake of the family and never, never let them see who he truly was.

     But standing here in this room that smelled of old parchment and brine, he was ready to fight for the chance to break free of all the suffocating expectations and ridicules he had borne on his back for the past two decades.

     He wanted to learn who he could be and what he could do, and Tess’s already preconceived notion of what he was capable of made Jules’ heartbeat quicken, dragging the pride and anger he had learned to take and turn into passive aggressive retorts at dinner parties up his throat out past his lips.

     “You cannot cite the absolute truth based on my appearance, alone.”

     Tess was Jules’ same height, if not an inch shorter, and yet as she took a step toward him, her presence filled the space, looming over his head like all the teachers who had taken pleasure in reprimanding him in front of the whole class. “Kid, I’m not trying to be mean, but someone has to be realistic, here.” As she gestured toward the room, Jules caught sight of a tattoo curling around her bicep, barely visible against her skin. “This is not some fanciful cruise. This is not some leisure vessel for you to play at living outside of your…station.” The rancor that colored the last word was possibly the most honest thing Jules had ever heard spoken regarding those of his class in society. “It’s rough out there, in a way I don’t think you understand. The sea is rough. The crew is rough. You have to know what you’re getting into because once we cast off, there’s no turning back.”

     “It is true I do not share your experience.” His upbringing told him to remain cordial, while his desperation urged him to stand up for himself; to get on this ship and sail away from this city by any means necessary. “But I am a fast learner, if given the chance to prove myself. I may not resemble your ideal crew-mate, but that does not mean I am not prepared for what lies ahead.”

     Tess scoffed, but Captain Delian intervened before she could say anything further. “What’s your name?”

    Most people Jules met either already knew who he was, or if they wished for an introduction, expecting an impersonal one. Julius Finnegan, second son of Sir Arthur Finnegan, wealthy and respected landowner and member of the Council of Whitebrooks.

     Responding in such a manner had become a habit and an instinct, and so Jules opened his mouth to do so. Except, he realized — the words poised on the tip of his tongue — that was not required of him, here. He had thought it over in the days prior, and now was his chance to distance himself from everything he was trying to leave behind.

     “Jules,” he answered. No titles, no family reputation. Only himself.

     “Hm.” The Captain held Jules’ gaze just long enough to make it clear he had taken note of the hesitation before Jules’ response.

     Leaning back against the edge of his desk, one hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword — the gesture seeming fortunately more habitual than threatening. “Well, then, Jules —“ The name was pronounced with deliberate slowness. “Regardless of whether or not you are prepared for what lies ahead, you have yet to tell us why you are here.” He cocked his head to one side, this thumb absentmindedly circling the red stone on the sword’s pommel. “You must understand that I cannot simply take anyone who asks on board. Tess is right that there are a thousand dangers that lie beyond this port, and it is not for the faint hearted. I am sure you can understand why we are wary of your request to join my crew.”

     “That’s for damn sure,” Tess mumbled.

     “So I am curious —” The Captain ignored her. “Why are you here?”