1670, Caribbean Sea. She's the daughter of a legendary pirate. He's a Spanish captain. Their countries are at war. Their fathers killed each other. And they were destined to follow on their steps.
But sometimes destiny isn't written in stone: it's w...
Alonso's failed attempt of assassination, against his plans, had a positive effect on Marina's health. She couldn't even imagine, let alone explain, how she'd know what had happened to Castillano, but somehow, confirming she was right fed her will to recover.
While Alonso and Laventry fraternized over Oporto downstairs, Morris helped her drink a whole cup of tea. That helped her shake the fever's daze and opened her appetite. After several days without solid food, the house cook refused to give her a full meal, but made a wholesome soup of meat and greens that seemed to bring her soul back to her body.
By the second mug, the fever had broken and she was able to have a little conversation.
"We need to get out of here," was one of the first things she said.
"In two or three days," Morris replied. "Maxó and De Neill are getting us a ship to go home."
Marina nodded, sitting among a wall of pillows, her bandaged hands holding the mug to her mouth and her black eyes moving over the bed covers.
By the third mug, she looked at the dressings and grimaced. "I can't even move my fingers," she complained.
Morris grabbed clean bandages, and after washing the cuts in her palms, he wrapped them leaving her fingers out. As soon as she checked she could bend them, she thanked him with a bright smile. She gulped up what soup she had left and rested her hand on his cheek.
"You okay?" she asked, smiling. "My poor dearest friend, I've dragged you to such dark places."
He took her hand and kissed her fingers, smiling back. "But it's over, my pearl. We made it. And as soon as you're fine, we're setting sail to wreck some havoc, you and I."
Sitting at the other side of the bed, Dolores studied curiously the deep affection bonding those two, which lacked any trace of physical desire whatsoever. Lost in her thoughts, she was surprised to realize they'd turned to her.
"How could I ever thank you, Dolores?" the girl said, reaching out to her with her spare hand. "Just like Captain Castillano, you risked your life for me, for us, only out of the mercy of your generous heart."
Dolores patted her hand softly, mirroring their smiles. "Get well and shine again, pearl. And let's go get that brute before some moron hangs him to cover their backs. And speaking of the Captain—" She stood up and circled the bed to the nightstand on Marina's side.
The girl observed Morris while Dolores walked by him, brushing his legs with her skirt when she leaned forward to take something from the nightstand drawer.
"More soup?" she asked, grabbing the empty mug as she gave Marina a written page, folded and sealed.
Before the girl could answer, Dolores tugged at Morris' shoulder and took him out of the room, leaving her alone.
Marina broke the seal. The moment she unfolded the page, her pendant fell on her lap. A moved smile curled up her lips when she read the message, which was shorter than the signature, holding the pendant in her bandaged hand. She managed to lock the thin golden chain with her clumsy fingers and hung it from her neck. Then she slid into the sheets to lay down again.
Morris and Dolores found her asleep, a hand keeping the message to her chest, where the pendant sparkled again.
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