The Pirate Queen

Chapter 8

Lunch wasn't much of an affair, similar to breakfast. Many of the crewmates were too busy working to simply sit and eat, but those who did offered much praise to Eric and Jora for food that was "for once actually edible." 

And Eric really didn't expect to actually enjoy the work. He and Jora had been up since well before dawn but he wasn't tired at all. They stayed busy, cooking and cleaning and organizing the mess the former chef had left the kitchen in. Eric found it too amusing to hear his friend cursing in french while organizing the pots and pans. 

By dinner, the kitchen on the ship resembled more the castle kitchen than the state it had when they arrived. Jora had unpacked all his own equipment and spices, along with unpacking and storing his and Eric's clothes in the singular chest they were each provided under their hammocks. Another perk Eric hadn't realized to be grateful for, him and Jora having their own, "private" quarters. They didn't have to sleep below deck with the rest of the crew, just tucked into the corner of the kitchen. He didn't mind, it smelled twice as good with all the spices and remained comfortably warm to battle against the ocean chill. 

"So, what do we do for dinner?" Eric asked, kneading the bread Jora had set in front of him. 

Jora hauled over a crate and pried the lid off, staring down into its contents. "A different variation on lunch actually. Salted meat, cheese, and bread. I need to find a way to preserve these vegetables and fruit though, or they'll go bad within the week." 

Eric paused, looking into the crate at the bundles of carrots tucked inside. "Can you jar them?" 

"Possible." Jora began rummaging around some more of the cabinets and pulled out a massive jug of vinegar. "Definitely possible." 

Eric grimaced, turning back to his dough. He was no stranger to bland, repetitive meals but vinegar... He still couldn't get past the taste and smell of vinegar. But if it was eating pickled vegetables for months on end or starvation, he'd find a way past it. There was more than just his stomach at stake here, he could set his taste buds aside for that. 

"Oh, Ariel doesn't eat with the crew for dinner by the way," Jora said. 

"What does her highness eat?" 

Jora snorted. "Whatever isn't being served to the crew. Apparently, one of the few traditions she kept from her late father."

"Edward Nott was really Ariel's father?" Eric molded the bread into a loaf and set it on the sheet beside two of its siblings. He reached for another dough ball and began his kneading anew. 

Jora hesitated and appeared beside Eric with a steak in his hand. He looked weary and glanced a few times at the door before answering. "Not in the paternal sense, but he did raise her from babe until his death. I- He, never told anyone where he found her and why he chose to raise her aboard the Dauntless." 

Eric looked towards the door as if he could see straight through it to the Captain's quarters. Never had he heard of Ariel Nott, nor how she had grown and lived aboard the Dauntless. He'd heard countless tales and stories about the infamous ship and its crew, but no one had ever mentioned a red-haired, fiery female amongst the company. He wondered briefly if that came with the same power of enchanting everyone she came upon with her beauty and cunning. If it was a trick of the mind or something else entirely. 

"Let me bring her dinner," Eric blurted. 

Jora dropped the steak into the iron pan and for a second the sound of sizzling meat was the only sound between them. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" 

The prince pounded his fist into the dough. "Jora, as much as I love working in the kitchen with you, I need to start making some progress on my actual goals aboard this ship. And I can't do that if she hates me."