Swyfte blinked rain out of his eyes as he looked into the other man’s face. ‘Robert, I would not leave a friend to die in such circumstances. But if we tarry here, we all die, and so too the hopes of England.’ He felt sickened to hear the words come out of his mouth.
Launceston nodded in acceptance, and without another word stepped on to the rail and dived into the boiling sea. Will’s cry rang out, but the man disappeared and however desperately Will searched the waves he saw no further sign of his friend. The spy cursed to himself: what had possessed Launceston to throw himself after Carpenter?
The rain eased and a glimmer of silver light broke through the thick clouds on the horizon. With a boom of filling sails, the
Desolate, Will tore his gaze away from the angry sea and knelt down beside Grace. He took her in his arms. She was still breathing, but that was but a small mercy. He had seen the corruption of the Unseelie Court worm its way into even the strongest mind and consume it from within until only a shell was left.
‘Grace,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘speak to me.’
There was no response; she might have been sleeping, though he would not wish her dreams upon another living soul. Will bowed his head. So much had been lost, yet the worst still lay ahead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE STORM HAD blown itself out by sunset. Under heavy clouds, the
By dawn, the skies had cleared to a perfect blue and the sea was calm. With his astrolabe, Bloody Jack shielded his eyes against the merciless sun and began to calculate the latitudes in order to discover how far they had been blown off course into dangerous, uncharted waters. His mood darkened by the hour.
Grace had not yet regained consciousness. Her breathing shallow, her eyes motionless beneath the lids, she lay on her berth in a sleep akin to death. Will sat over her through the long night, watching for any sign that she might recover, afraid what would be left of her wits if she did. Time and again he cursed himself for his failings, haunted by his vow to protect her at all costs.
Strangewayes would barely look at him, and when their eyes did meet, Will saw only simmering hatred. He felt angry at the young spy’s attitude, but held his tongue. As the stifling heat rose in the dusty cabin, he realized he was only making matters worse by being there; it was now Strangewayes’ responsibility to care for Grace. Will left him there, cooling her brow with a damp kerchief and muttering constant prayers.
Will asked the captain if he could be left alone on the poop deck for a few moments. Once he had assured himself he couldn’t be overseen by the other men, he squatted down at the far side of the castle and pulled the obsidian mirror from his pouch, laying it on the deck. As he hunched over the glass, he whispered the words Meg had taught him and waited.
Long moments passed. It was the agreed time, and Meg had not yet disappointed him. He uttered the incantation once more, and again. Yet the mirror remained clear, and he began to fear that the Unseelie Court had claimed another life. Wearily, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
When he looked again, the black mirror had clouded over. Yet the face that was gradually appearing in the misty glass was not Meg’s. He felt his heart begin to beat faster, though he scarcely dared hope. Yet the familiar curve of the lips emerged, and the bright, clever eyes, and the tumble of brown hair, just as they had that night in the rooming house in Liverpool.
‘Jenny,’ he murmured, uncontrolled joy rushing through him. She still wore the blue dress she had on when she vanished from his life all those years ago.
Her eyes widened and he knew she could see him too. But then he saw the worry in her face. With apprehension she glanced nervously over her shoulder in the darkness, and then leaned closer to the glass.
‘Will. It is you.’
He recoiled at the shock of hearing her voice after so long. There was so much he wanted to say to her; he had played this moment through a thousand times or more in all the years of longing. How could he ever begin to express the emotion that had been stirred in that seeming eternity of time apart? ‘Jenny,’ he began, struggling to find the words, but she silenced him with an insistent shake of her head.
‘Will, there is very little time,’ she whispered. ‘When I saw you before, I barely dared believe you still lived . . . that you remembered me—’
‘I would never forget you.’ He could barely stop his voice from breaking. Her features softened, and he saw the affection in her smile. ‘Not a day has passed when I have not searched for you in some way.’
‘And you must abandon the quest,’ she sighed. ‘That is the very reason why I have reached out to you. You must put me out of your thoughts, and out of your heart.’
‘Never.’
‘You must.’ He saw the tears begin to run down her cheeks. ‘Will, please . . . do this for me, if you love me still—’
‘I do!’
‘Then forget me,’ she implored. ‘There is no time for explanations. You must trust me on this matter. To find me could cost you your own life, and I will never allow that to happen . . .’ She half turned as if she had heard someone approaching, and then added in a hasty tone, ‘I must go.’
‘Wait,’ he called out, too loud, but the looking glass had already misted over, and a moment later it showed only blue sky. Will slumped back against the rail and closed his eyes, turning her words over in his head, listening once again to the music of her voice. He felt afraid to stop in case he could no longer remember how she sounded. And yet Jenny lived, there could be no doubt about that now. His heart leapt, and it was all he could do not to shout to the heavens. Her warnings meant nothing to him. How could he accept her plea for him to stay away? Nothing would deter him from bringing her home.
He inhaled a draught of salty air and took a moment at the rail, looking out over the blue waters. Though his spirits now soared, he yet felt doubt. What of Meg? Did she still live? And without her to guide them, what chance did they have of reaching their destination?
He was in reflective mood as he descended on to the main deck, and barely noticed Courtenay beckoning him to enter his cabin. Strangewayes knelt beside the still-prone Grace, so intent on his prayers he seemed unaware that the two men had entered. Will followed Bloody Jack to his trestle where his dog-eared charts were scattered, the astrolabe weighting them down. Keeping an eye on Strangewayes, the captain whispered, ‘Do you have a new course for me?’
‘Not yet. Soon,’ Will replied. ‘You have identified our position?’
Courtenay jabbed a finger on the chart. ‘Right where we shouldn’t be, Master Swyfte. We’ve already had our fill of the horse latitudes, where the wind comes and goes like a woman’s affections, and you can drift becalmed for days under a sweltering sun. Aye, that’s bad enough, but that damnable storm has dumped us back in it, and worse. Here . . .’ he drew a filthy nail along the chart, ‘is a sea within the sea. Cursed, it is. Good ships disappear without a sign. Pirates, some say.’ He shrugged, not believing. ‘Other vessels are found deserted, with treasure still in their holds and food and water in their barrels. Every captain knows to steer well clear—’
‘You did this.’ The low growl of Strangewayes’ voice rustled across the cabin. Will turned to see the red- headed spy confronting him, rapier drawn, his face flushed with an anger that must, Will surmised, be born of despair. ‘If you had taken even a moment to prepare her for the horrors of the Unseelie Court, she might have survived the encounter. But no, the great Will Swyfte had better things to do with his time.’
‘Put your sword away, boy,’ Courtenay growled. ‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’
‘England is littered with dead and wounded men who have made your acquaintance, oft-times decent- hearted, God-fearing people you have used and discarded once they have served your purpose, so I have heard,’ Strangewayes continued, not taking his gaze off Will. ‘You care for no one but yourself. And yet you are tolerated
