Across the Midnight Sea

Chapter 25: A steady hand

Yes, I am currently on vacation, but Imre called to me last night and I had to work on this story. I have wifi for a moment so I am posting. I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you do please leave some love.

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Silence raged on in the middle of the storm. Imre could hear the crashing of the waves and the calling of orders on deck. What he couldn't hear was Adira and her silence was louder than the raging of the sea.

Imre flexed his hands against the bonds, his arms protesting loudly.

He felt utterly powerless.

She was cold and he couldn't warm her.

She could be dying, just inches away from him,  and he could do nothing to save her.

Imre hung his head pressing his eyes into his arm at the crook of his elbow.

It wasn't the first time he had been powerless to save someone he cared about and the pain from the past came up from the deep place his kept it locked away. He could hear the screaming as if it were yesterday.

"Please," he begged between clenched teeth begging the gods he didn't believe in. Don't make me sit here and watch her die.

The door opened and Imre's head shot up.

Instinctive fear was replaced with relief as he saw the first mate on the other side.

"She needs help," Imre said as soon as Smithers stepped in and closed the door.

"Why do you think I went to go get supplies," said Smithers frowning at the young slave's tone.

"She said she was cold and then she stopped talking," Imre blurted.

Ignoring everything else Smithers hurried over to the side of the bed, setting down the supplies he had brought with him before putting two fingers to Adira's throat.

The first mate remained still for a moment and Imre found his breath locked in his lungs.

Please, Imre begged silently.

When Smithers shoulders relaxed, Imre let out the air in his lungs in one continuous stream.

She was alive.

That was all that mattered.

"Her hearts weak," Smithers touched her forehead. "She's lost a lot of blood. 

A wave rocked the ship tilting it and the bowl of water Smithers had placed on the bedside table nearly tipped to ground.

Smithers hand lashed out with astonishing speed and reflex catching it on the lip of the dresser. The older man looked at the bowl, then at Imre.

"I'm going to let you go now," he said calmly. "And you're going to keep this water steady and help me tend to her, do you understand?"

Imre nodded.

Smithers undid the rope.

"Bring your chair over closer," Smithers ordered, yet Imre had heard that tone before and knew that it was not Smithers talking down to him, it was the same tone that Smithers used to address the rest of the crew.

Once Imre had moved, Smithers handed Imre the bowl of water.

"Don't let it spill, its sterilized and already has an infusion of herbs in it-don't let it be wasted."

Imre agreed mutely.

Smithers turned, reached for a blanket, and covered Adira's small form, tucking her in gently.