A/N: Sorry for the delay. No matter how hard I tried, this chapter just never came out right. I still don‘t like it, really. Anyway, brace yourself; it’s long. Let me know what you think.

Chapter V

It seemed only minutes before light streaming in through the doorway awakened Katjè. She sat up with a yawn and stretched. The other two bunks, the only furniture in the small chamber behind the galley, were empty. A small movement drew her attention and she turned toward the door. Only then did the memory of last night’s storm enter her sleepy mind.

Carl stood in the doorway, his tall, lanky form framed by the glow of sunlight. Katjè let out a shocked gasp and immediately went to her feet. The young prince’s easy, crooked smile looked almost comical next to an enormous black-eye, and his left arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth.

“Oh Carl,” she said softly. “What happened?”

His grin widened. “I look that bad, huh?”

She cringed, but didn’t answer.

Carl laughed. “If you think I look bad, you should see your lovely kitchen.”

Katjè fairly leaped forward to help him as he stepped backward and immediately tripped. It took her a moment to realize that this wasn’t from weakness or exhaustion; in fact, the culprit was a torn sack of flour. The white powder dusted the whole room, doughy in some places. One of the cupboard’s latches had come undone, and its contents were broken and strewn everywhere. She groaned.

Carl stepped carefully away from the sack and Katjè moved to help him. He held up a hand in gesture of warning, mischievous smile still dancing across his face.

“Don’t worry Kat, I’m fine.”

She smiled through her concern. He was the only one she allowed to call her by that nickname, though he didn’t often do so. Her smile turned into a grimace as she examined his eye. “Ouch. That must kill.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll hurt a lot more when Jane starts probing at it. I was actually on my way to sickbay, but Roland asked me to stop in here and see if you were awake yet.”

Katjè made a face. “What does that mean? How long have I been sleeping?”

Carl laughed. “Well, it’s about midday.”

She stood quickly, looking to where the sun streamed in through the open galley door. Sailors went to and fro about the deck, intent on their various chores. She looked back at Carl, who quickly smiled through a grimace of pain.

“But that’s impossible,” she muttered.

“No it’s not.” He used his undamaged arm to brush his wavy light brown hair away from his eyes. “Jane gave you something that conked you right out.”

She blinked at him blankly. “What? Why?”

“Ha. Did you think that you were the only one on the ship that got away unscathed? Look at your legs.”

Katjè sat down on the table and lifted the loose-fitting legs of her pants. Bandages were wrapped tightly around both calves. Lifting the edge of one, she hissed sharply through her teeth. “Ow. Why didn’t I feel that?”

“Who knows. Jane’s good.” He nodded sagely. “Scary, but good.”

He took her hand as she slipped off the table. “Come on, you should go see Roland, or he’ll think I passed out on the way here or something.”

Katjè nodded and followed him out onto the main deck.

Everything was in disarray. Ropes hung above them in tangled masses, pools of seawater still lay about the deck, and fragments of broken wood were strewn everywhere.

Katjè looked up at Carl. “I didn’t think it would be this bad,” she muttered.

Carl shook his head sadly. “It gets worse. My ship, the Lady Jane, had her mast torn off,” he rolled his eyes. “That’s going to be fun to fix. Anyway, the stores on the Squire Jim are mostly ruined,” he took a deep breath, “and the Queen Kathlyn lost Nebrinî.”

Katjè‘s eyes widened and filled with tears as the prince nodded.

In the endless, unbearable waiting of the previous night, she had imagined all sorts of terrible things happening. Wretched visions of everyone somehow being washed overboard besides herself, and horrid premonitions of being too frightened to save her friends from a certain demise that only she had the power to halt. But always there had been that irrepressible, undaunted spark of optimism that never seemed to leave her. Always there had been that quiet certainty that everything would turn out all right in the end. She felt that spark nearly quenched in the tears that now coursed down her cheeks.

Carl appeared to take no notice of the fact that she was crying -which was just fine with her- and he continued.

“We were blown a ridiculous distance. Howard estimates that we were pushed, in one night, a distance it would have taken us four days to travel with normal winds. We have land in sight and we’re putting into a natural harbor for repairs just now. Roland has some sort of job he needs you to do.”

He winced suddenly, pressing a hand to the wound on his arm.

Katjè brushed her tears away and tried to focus, though her voice came out shaky. “So, I should go talk to Roland?”

“Yeah.” He casually handed her a handkerchief. “I think he’s still on the stern deck with Howard.”

Katjè quickly rubbed the soft cloth over her face, wiping away any remnant of tears, and returned it.

Carl let out a heavy sigh as he put the handkerchief back in his pocket. “I, meanwhile, will make my way to Jane’s torture chamber. See ya.” He gave her a cheery grin and a wave, and then walked off.

Katjè climbed the ladder to the stern deck and walked over to the ship’s wheel, where Howard and Roland stood.

“How many are wounded?” Katjè asked as soon as she came near.

Howard answered. “About thirty from all three ships are wounded enough to prevent them from helping with the repairs. We lost Nebrinî overboard; Wright the carpenter has offered to fill the position of helmsman. None are injured fatally, and according to Jane, everyone should be relatively healthy within a week or two.”

Katjè smiled in spite of herself. A concise, precise, and perfect list; Howard’s specialty.

Roland gestured to the island where they had made berth. “The island looks to be temperate and non-threatening. It also seems to be bountiful in food. Quite a stroke of luck.”

“I hope our luck holds,” said Katjè. She gave Roland a weak smile. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, rubbing his neck. “Other than the fact that you almost strangled me last night, yeah. I’m doing okay.”

“I saved you,” Katjè grinned, punching his shoulder half-heartedly. She turned to Roland’s twin. “And what about you?”

“I’m mostly unscathed.” He rubbed a hand over his broad, suntanned face. “Tired, though.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I guess I’m the only one who got to sleep in.”

Roland let out a short, unamused bark of laughter. “Well, you’re going to have to work extra hard to make up for it.”

She made a face, but he ignored her and continued. “I need you to make an inventory of all three ships. I have to know what we’ve lost, and what we need, okay?”

She nodded and turned to go, but then stopped and turned back. “Oh, Howard?”

He looked up, brown eyes sharp. “Yeah?”

“I, um, sort of lost that flute you made me…”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make you another one. I just can’t guarantee how quickly.” He glanced around at the sea-soaked clutter. “I’ve got a bit of stuff to do first.”

“Heh. Thanks. I had quite nearly figured out how to play it, too.” She gave the dark-haired prince beside them a sidelong glance. “I figured Roland and I could form duet.”

“What do you think, Roland?” Howard laughed in response to Roland‘s cringing. “Care to grace us with the sweet, harmonic sounds of your guitar?”

His grimace turned into a scowl. “Let’s get our jobs done. We can discuss music later.”

Laughing, Katjè left the twins and turned to climb back down the ladder. She took the few steps to the kitchen and reached out to open the door, but winced as her hand made contact with the metal latch. Pulling back, she glanced down at the angry red welts across her fingers. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she used her left hand to pull the door open.

Princess Leah was on her hands and knees, scrubbing away at the galley’s floor. Stephen lounged against the table, a mop held in his hand, talking excitedly about some heroic deed or another. Katjè stepped in, sure to keep quiet.

Steve, still not noticing Katjè’s presence, continued to speak, gesturing madly with mop. “So, I rushed across the deck, and I reached him just as the ship went all insane to one side, and I reached out to grab him, but it was too late, Carl started falling, but I grabbed this rope, and I swung off into the empty air, with the sea raging beneath me, and I snatched him just before he plummeted into the abyss!” Having said all of this in one breath, he stopped, sucking oxygen into his lungs and then proceeding to grin hugely.

Leah nodded absently, concentrating on the floor, and the difficult removal of flour and water, which sadly had made a rather gooey mess. “Amazing.”

Stephen shrugged in a pitiful attempt at modesty, not noticing his sister‘s disinterest. “Well, you know, I’m not perfect. He did get a bit of a scratch on his left arm. But I saved his life, and a little scratch like that is small price to pay.”

Katjè came up behind him suddenly, snatching the mop away. He turned with an outraged gasp as she grinned down at him.

“A small scratch?” She tapped him lightly on the head with the mop’s wooden handle. “Have you seen your poor brother?”

Steve made a face. “He’ll survive.”

“Mmmhmm. So tell me then, if you’re such a hero, why are you down here mopping?”

The young prince’s mouth fell open, but as always, he recovered quickly. “Well, I wanted to help Leah out, you know. I wasn’t about to let a girl do all of the work.” He nodded, grinning hugely, and snatched the mop back from Katjè.

Leah rolled her eyes. She was small for her size, having inherited both her mother’s short stature and her father’s thin build, and was no bigger than Stephen, who was two years her junior. Her thick hair was honey-gold like Howard’s and she also shared his light blue eyes, but Carl’s mischievous smile always seemed to dance on her face.

She stood, picking up the bucket of dirty water. “Actually,” she informed Katjè, “Howard sent him down here to help. And Carl has informed me that any rumors one might hear of him being saved after mad dashes and rope-swinging are completely false.”

Steve glowered at her back as she moved toward the door.

“To the credit of a certain younger brother, though,” she said, turning back. “Carl said that if Stephen hadn’t pushed him aside when the mast fell, then-” her voice became sarcastic as she deepened it slightly to imitate Carl‘s, “‘your dear older brother quite surely would not be here, grinning cheerfully as ever, blue eyes twinkling merrily from his handsome face.’ And yes,” she nodded, grinning and rolling her eyes, “those were his exact words.”

A deeply satisfied look came over Steve’s face, and he didn’t even remember to correct his sister in calling him Stephen.

“See,” he said, “I did save Carl. He admitted it himself.”

Katjè nodded. “Very good, young one. Thank you.” She patted him on the head.

“It’s Steve,” he pushed her hand off, “not ‘young one.’”

Leah rolled her eyes, pulling the handle of the bucket further up her arm. “Come on, Steve. You should know by now that it’s nearly impossible to keep secrets in a family this big.”

Katjè grinned. “Nearly impossible?”

Leah’s impish smile returned, but she didn’t respond.

Katjè shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. My sister, Rána, is six years older than me, and she and I are nothing alike. She’s like a female version of Elliot.”

The young princess made a face. “Ugh. Maybe they should get married and be happy together in their snobbishness.”

“Not likely. Rána will only ever glance at big, strong, muscular men.”

Leah laughed. “Like Roland and Howard?”

A strangely thoughtful look came over Katjè’s face. “Yeah, I guess so. Those two are rather muscular, aren’t they?”

Katjè’s reverie was quite suddenly interrupted by exaggerated gagging noises from beside her. She glared down at Steve, who quickly ceased when he saw the look on her face.

“Come on then, Stephen.” She ruffled his curly brown hair, something she knew he hated. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

The morning passed quickly; every person onboard hard at work on one task or another.

Upon completion of the inventory, Katjè had discovered that, though the Squire Jim had lost all supplies, the other two ships had retained most of theirs. Howard was now leading the repair work, while Carl unwillingly recuperated in sickbay. Roland and some of the crewmembers had already gone ashore to gather supplies and find a suitable tree to make a new mast for the Lady Jane.

Katjè sighed deeply as she finished scrubbing the galley’s floor. She had been working constantly since they had put into the natural harbor, and she felt very sorry for those who had been up and working before her. Standing, she picked up the bucket of dirty water, making her way onto the deck and throwing the water over the side.

She turned, eyes scanning the various proceeding on the main deck. The repairs seemed to be going well. According to Howard, they would be completely done by the time the scouting party had finished their tasks.

As she turned toward the stern deck, Katjè spotted Howard next to the ship’s wheel. He was bent around it and seemed to be having a rather difficult time getting it to turn. She made her way up to him.

“Howard, when are you going to send the scouting party out?”

Howard stopped his work and looked up at her. “Probably not for a few days. I need as many people as I can right now to help with repairs.” He stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Luckily, other than the Lady Jane, our ships held up rather well. I think Jane’s taking it as a personal insult though,” he laughed. “But why do you ask?”

“Oh, just wondering. What’s wrong with the wheel?”

Howard made a face at it. “It’s quite aggravating. Something must have knocked into the rudder really hard during the storm. The rudder beam is displaced or something, because the wheel just won’t budge. The ship’s carpenter is with Roland, and his apprentice couldn‘t figure it out.” The prince suddenly laughed. “You don’t happen to know anything that could help, would you Katjè?”

“Actually,” she answered thoughtfully, “I might.”

And with that, Katjè took off towards the ship’s galley.

Howard stared after her in amazement. “Katjè! I was joking,” he called after her. She just laughed as she disappeared through the door.

The princess reappeared some moments later with a jar in her hand, but she completely ignored Howard’s calls and made her way below deck. He found her on the lowest deck some hours later, staring skeptically at the beam that connected the ship’s rudder to the wheel. She was standing in three feet of briny water -a byproduct of the storm that hadn’t been resolved yet- and her hands were covered in what looked like cake glaze.

“What are you doing?”

“It was wedged. I think I managed to loosen it,” Katjè said, holding up a handful of lard - what he had taken to be cake glaze - and a pry bar.

“You used grease and a longish piece of metal to fix a problem that the carpenter’s apprentice couldn’t figure out?” He asked incredulously.

She nodded, leaning down to finish greasing the massive wooden beam. “Well, I think that’ll do it, but you’ll have to get up on the stern deck and check out the wheel before you get too amazed.”

The wheel turned as smoothly as ever before, and Howard was very amazed. He was still singing Katjè’s praises when Roland returned that night. The weather was perfect, so everyone was lounged about above decks, steaming bowls of stew in their hands.

Roland listened as Howard related the whole tale to him, while Wright the carpenter shook his head, shocked that his apprentice couldn’t think of something so incredibly simple.

“Neb wuda figgerd it out,” he said, nodding. “Smart man that. Too bad the storm claimed ‘im.”

All of the sailors raised their mugs in agreement, drinking deeply. Everyone had known him well, and his loss was quite a blow.

Howard downed his beer and stood, stretching. “Aye, a good man.” He looked down at Roland. “Dad’s going to take it hard.”

Roland shrugged, draining the last trace of beer from his own mug. “No harder than the rest of us.”

Howard nodded. He clapped Roland on the back. “I’d better head back to the Squire Jim, or all my crew will mutiny in my absence. Mostly because they can probably smell this stew across all this distance, and are insanely jealous. Tell Kat I said thanks.”

Roland laughed softly. “Better watch out. She catches anyone other than Carl calling her that, and she’ll probably end up beating them with a ladle.”

“Yeah.” Howard made a face. “Why Carl?”

Roland shrugged, scraping the last of the stew from his bowl. “No idea.” He stood and stretched, looking very much like his twin despite their physical differences. “I’ll ask her.”

Yawning hugely, he made his way to galley. The best thing in the world right now was the hammock swinging in his cabin. It had not been an easy day.

“Howard wanted me to thank you.” He said as he walked into the ship‘s kitchen.

Katjè stood before the stove, stirring a large pan of steaming coffee. She rolled her eyes. “For what? The stew? Or my ‘amazing intuition concerning the repair of the ship?’”

Roland laughed. “The stew.”

“So has he finally stopped gloating about me? He’s so bloody happy, you’d think he thought of it himself.” She poured the steaming black liquid into a pitcher and handed it to Roland.

He shrugged, gazing into the still-swirling blackness inside the vessel. “You know Howard. Do something smart or kind, and he tells everyone. Too bad it works the same way if you do something stupid. He’s very big on the whole balance thing. Credit where credit is due and stuff.”

Katjè nodded, standing on tip toe to reach the sack of sugar in one of the cupboards. Roland reached over her and grabbed it with one hand. He gave it to her, and received a bright smile in return.

“Thanks.” She spooned some into the pitcher and stirred the coffee inside it.

“Hey, Katjè,” Roland inquired suddenly, “why is it that only Carl can call you Kat?”

She shrugged, standing tip toe once again to replace the large sack. “He’s the only one who’s ever asked.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Now, would you take that out to the crew?”

Roland stared at her, ‘are you joking’ written clearly on his face. A captain -and prince- was not supposed to go around serving the crew.

Katjè’s smile only brightened though. “Please? I’ll make you an apple pie tomorrow,” she said in a persuasive tone.

“Oh fine.” Roland grinned and shook his head. In the face of Katjè’s apple pie, he would sacrifice even his dignity, and the hammock that awaited him in his cabin. “It better be the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted though.”

“Don’t worry,” she said as the prince strode toward the door, pitcher in hand. “It’ll be perfect.”

Roland turned back suddenly as he put his hand to the latch. “Hey, Katjè?”

“Yeah?”

“May I call you Kat?”

She nodded, bright smile fairly glowing through her vivid green eyes. “Yes, you may.”