It was mid-afternoon when I saw the sun again. I was back in my ridiculous blue dress, the inner corset abandoned in the cabin. That left my waist and chest pushing against the fabric with the subtlety of a siege tower. I'd tried to look less provocative, but my ample curves had a mind of their own.

Travin was nowhere to be seen, and my escorts were off doing gods-know-what. The sailors on duty were busy, thankfully too occupied to gawk. So, I wandered up the steps toward the rear deck, where the helmsman…

Helmswoman, actually, stood under a sun-worn tarp, her hands steady on the wheel. Two sailmancers stood nearby, casting wind into the sails with bored precision.

“Oy there, lass,” the helmswoman called without looking. Her voice was husky, rough-edged, and annoyingly familiar in its swagger.

“Oy, yourself.” I grinned, stepping closer. “I was told I wasn’t the only lady on board.”

“But you are,” she said with a crooked smirk. “No one’s ever mistaken Shae Adare for a lady.”

I chuckled. “Same here, actually. I failed that audition long ago.”

Shae was tall and wiry, kissed by sun and salt, her body carved from a lifetime of hauling ropes and wrestling sails. Muscles coiled, lean and dangerous beneath her shirt, every movement sharp with purpose. A tricorn shaded her face, but the wild tangle of raven-black hair spilling out beneath it seemed to defy gravity itself. Like many of the crew, she bore the sharp, slanted features of an elf, her pointed ears jutting proudly. But on her, those mischievous elvish eyebrows looked wickedly inviting.

“I’m new to this,” I said, nodding toward the sea.

“New or not,” she muttered, “you’re a right distraction.”

“The dress?”

“Not at all.” She shot me a grin that had no business being on a woman. “But you’re teasing everyone by just being here, ain’t a person on board that didn’t enjoy this morning’s show, the half that saw it already told the half that missed it.”

I choked on a laugh. “Charming.”

Before I could come up with a clever retort, a shout rang out from the lower deck.

“Hey there!”

A blond boy. He was young, puffed-up, and probably ten minutes into growing his first chest hair. He stood near the captain’s cabin. He had the energy of someone who’d read about sailors in books and decided he’d be one.

“Hey, yourself,” I called back.

“The captain wants a word!”

“The captain’s entitled to all the words in the dictionary,” I replied, grinning.

Shae snorted beside me, keeping one hand steady on the wheel.

The poor boy blinked. Processing wit wasn’t in his training.

“I mean… Uh… The captain would like to see you.”

I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood for more orders from men. I'd paid for my spot on this ship. That made me a customer, and the captain a glorified ferry driver.

“I’m sure he’s capable of coming up here himself,” I called down sweetly. “Unless he’s got a peg leg you  forgot to mention?” Shae barked with laughter at my words.

“Please tell me the captain is a man,” I whispered to her.

She gave another hardy laugh. “Oh yes, the captain is very much a male!” She leaned over, and the ship lurched a little, causing more than a few of the crew to shout curses at the world around them. She looked me up and down before adding, “If that is what you like.”

I turned toward her.  Gods help me, I saw it. She had Travin’s smirk. Travin’s swagger. And the same confidence that promised rough hands and twisted skin.

And now I was blushing like a maiden at her first Festival of Renewal.

“Uh…”

The cabin boy cleared his throat. “He respectfully requests your presence.”

I shot Shae a look. Maybe. I wasn’t exactly craving her anatomy. But I’d be lying if I said she didn’t stir something. Curiosity. Hunger. The fact that she looked like the female version of Travin didn’t help. That bastard had reoriented my entire sense of attraction. I wasn’t even sure if it mattered if it was a man or a woman, so long as they…

I gave Shae a look that said, Maybe?

Not a “yes.” Not a “no.” Just… maybe?

I wasn’t exactly aching to bed a woman, but survival instincts twist your appetites in strange ways. And Shae? Well, she looked like the kind of trouble I’d been stumbling into far too often lately. Maybe if I got desperate. Maybe if curiosity won out. Or maybe, just because she kept eyeing me like she wanted to lick the salt from the back of my knees.

She winked, slow and lazy, like she already knew how the night would end. Her tongue dragged across her teeth in a flash of challenge. Like she’d bet on me before I even sat down at her table.

I took a step closer and leaned in just enough to smell the salt and sun on her skin. “Guess I’m off to talk to the captain,” I said, letting a smile curve my lips. “Tell me you won’t be chained to this wheel the entire time.”

“Helm,” she corrected, one slanted brow rising like a dare. “And no. My shift ends right after sunset.”

“Good,” I said. I screamed at myself internally. Why? Why would I even entertain the notion?

Travin, Gods, he did this to me. I felt a draw to anyone who seemed like they were the type to take what they wanted. Shae was definitely that. Three seconds in, and I could tell what she was.

Her grin went full predator.

I turned for the stairs, clutching the railing as the ship groaned beneath me. The hull rolled, and the waves slapped hard against the wood like a warning: the sea was not your friend.

The blond cabin boy gestured toward the captain’s quarters, tucked behind the stairwell. A pane of frosted glass sat in the upper half of the door, glowing with sunlight. Above it, an inscription arced in ancient Elvish:

Minna Arda Grota. Nu massárya, go-vedim.

Into Grota’s world, we venture. Under her grace, we return.

My old tutor would’ve smacked my knuckles for mangling the pronunciation, but I still understood the words.

The Siren’s Song wasn’t a flashy vessel. She was smaller than some of the merchant ships I’d seen at port, but she was armed to the teeth. She had the massive ballista up top, and more little surprises stashed away on the lower decks.

Her hull gleamed red and gold, painted with swirling sea creatures: rays, dolphins, turtles, even stylized krakens and luscas. Between them, glowing glyphs pulsed with quiet magic. Their purpose was beyond me, other than the fact that sailors found the creatures to be good luck.

The young man opened the door before I could knock.

“Welcome aboard,” said a voice from within. Deep. Smooth. Not the kind that needed to raise itself to be heard. It slid over me like a heavy cloak, thick with command.

The sun was behind me, and the interior was dark enough that it felt like I was stepping into a different world. It was cool, shadowy, and full of quiet authority.

“Please,” the voice said, “come in.”

I hesitated for just a heartbeat. My hand lingered on the frame. And then I stepped inside.

The captain’s cabin was masculine, rich, and utterly his. Crimson walls edged with gold leaf. Arched windows framed an excellent desk. A bunk built for two. A library that could rival my father’s. It all reeked of power and comfort.

He stood behind the desk like a statue carved from something primeval. Not human. Not elf. Not dwarf.

An orc. A race that was the very manifestation of strength and power.

His skin was green, dark as moss in shadow, gleaming with oil and sweat. He stood over seven feet tall, with a chest like a barrel and shoulders made to break doors and people.

His tusks curled upward from his mouth, but his features were more human than the orcs I’d seen before. Though, to be fair, most of my encounters involved cages and shackles. These were orcs bound for the northern markets. They were beast-like, dull-eyed with piggish features, and seized for bloodsport. All were just captured area fodder.

This one? His face was broad, almost ape-like, but there was sharpness behind his eyes. Not just intelligence, but discipline. The kind that makes or breaks a captain.

He wore nothing above the waist. He was covered in tattoos and ritual scars, layered and symmetrical, like the pages of a book written in pain.

And gods help me… I wanted him to read it to me.

Not because I was into muscle-bound warlords. But because it struck me, all at once, how easy it would be for a man like him to decide I was his property. His offering to the sea. And that awful little flutter in my gut? It wasn’t just fear.

It was awe.

And maybe something worse. Something darker. Something that gnawed at the edge of reason. I was starting to lose track of how I was supposed to feel around the kind of men who should, logically, scare the life out of me.

“Please, have a seat,” the orc said, gesturing to the carved chair in front of his desk.

I crossed the room, heels clicking softly against the polished floor, and took my seat. I sat up straight, legs crossed, hands folded like I was about to be quizzed on proper fork placement. Old boarding school habits die hard.

“I’m Drekzhar,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. On a three-hundred-pound orc, it was hard to tell if he was being friendly or sizing me up for stew. “Captain of this ship.”

He offered his hand, and I stood to take it. His palm dwarfed mine. It was callused but warm, and strangely gentle. The kind of grip that could comfort or crush.

“Jolana,” I said, giving my best tavern-girl smile. “Jolana Elaro.”

He released me and sat in his chair. It groaned under his weight. I stayed upright, still playing the good schoolgirl in front of the headmaster.

“You’re quite the unexpected passenger.”

“That I am. I wasn’t planning a sea voyage when I woke up yesterday.” I tilted my head. “But you know how life likes to throw you off the edge of the dock.”

A twitch at the corner of his mouth. Amusement. Noted.

“You caused quite the spectacle boarding.”

“You can thank your crew on my behalf for their heroics. I was just trying not to break my ankles.”

He studied me for a beat, then said, “I’m not inclined to ask your business. You and your companions paid your fare. But I would like to ask a favor.”

“A favor?” My brow arched on instinct. “Captain, I’m not in uniform, and I don’t swab decks.”

His tone shifted, deeper. “The men only just satisfied their appetites in port. And sailors, as you may know, work with their hands, not their heads. Idle minds grow restless.”

“You’re saying I’m a distraction? I was told that already.”

“I’m saying I’d like you to stay in your quarters when you’re not on deck. And that I’m very glad Wells gave up his cabin for you. Keep it locked.”

“I wasn’t planning on entertaining visitors,” I said flatly.

“Rumor has it you came from a tavern in Porto Croce.”

I snorted. “Rumors are shockingly accurate for once. Doesn’t mean I boarded your ship to service the crew.”

“I’m not fond of having a…” He hesitated, clearly chewing on a word he didn’t want to say.

“A whore?” I offered, raising my brows.

He flinched. “I—”

“I’m not a harlot,” I said coldly, holding his gaze. “But if I were, trust me, Captain, you don’t have enough coin onboard to afford me.”

The room tightened around us. He looked suitably chastised. Good. Still, he wasn’t wrong to be nervous.

“I only wish to keep order,” he said. “The men need focus. Not fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t want order to break down,” I said. “I mean, if it did, I would be the first to feel it.”

I’d already been with one member of the crew. I didn’t get the impression Travin was a man to boast. At least, I hoped he had better judgment than that.

I shifted in my seat, tugging slightly at my dress. “Apologies for the outfit. I didn’t exactly get time to pack a proper sea wardrobe.”

He allowed himself a small, amused grunt. “It was… memorable watching you run up that dock.”

“You missed the real entertainment when I landed on your deck. I’m sure there’s a shanty about it in the works already.”

He didn’t laugh. He leaned forward again, tone serious. “You’re to remain on deck or in your cabin. Do not wander. You’re not to be alone on the lower decks. Airdan will bring your meals. You open your door for him, only him, and no other man. Understand?”

I bristled. “You’re making me feel like a prisoner, not a passenger.”

His gaze darkened. “Yes,” he said. “We all are. Every time we leave port, this ship becomes a prison. I am as much a warden as I am a captain.”

There was a weight to that truth. And it settled in my chest like ballast.

No one back home talked about this part. The tedium. The confinement. The quiet threat that came from being stuck on a floating world with nowhere to run. They loved to brag about sea monsters and treasure, but they left out the part where even the fresh air smelled like sweat, salt, and desperation.

“The sea changes men,” he said grimly. “Good men as much as bad.”

“Even on a short trip like this?”

“This may feel short to you. For us, it’s already been a month. And we’ve only just begun.” He pointed to a map on his desk, traced a line with his thick finger.  “We stop in Orman in five days, dropping you and your party off, then we head west, along the northern coast, until after the equinox, then we cross again.”

I nodded slowly. “And I imagine with a hundred sailors and only four women in town…”

“You can see why the mood can be volatile.” His gaze dropped to my dress. “And that doesn’t help.”

I sighed. “Trust me, if I had anything else to wear, I’d be in it.”

He gave a sharp exhale. “The only other woman on board isn’t nearly as…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warned, jaw clenched. “I’ve met the helmswoman. Her clothes wouldn’t fit me.”

His mouth shut. Smart man.

So that was it. When I wasn’t on deck, I’d be locked away. Not because I was dangerous, but because men can’t help themselves, and it’s always the woman’s job to make sure they behave. I’d heard that sermon before.