Sadly, Angelina got her wish anyway. Not to have him charmed, which now they weren’t sure who wanted that. She kept the two apart though. They were only able to spend meals and the nights together. After breakfast the two were on different jobs. Jonah was led off by Coal to learn ship maintenance and Diana was stuck listening to a radio, surrounded by hoards of paper that she constantly scribbled notes on.

The Tengu’s positive attitude was bittersweet to Jonah, knowing that he was a slave to the Witch’s will. Everything had changed since he had learned what Kalyah knew. He gave Diana a written rundown on his arm of the facts. Diana blew out the longest breath when she read about the Night Crew, wanting to know more. There wasn’t any more to explain than what Kalyah knew, that they worked for Angelina and that couldn’t be for good. Past that was all speculation.

Her reply came slowly, later explaining that a Magi typewriter had a different layout. It took her a while to get used to only using her thumbs on the touchscreen, previously hunting and pecking. She had to grip his arm with the rest of her fingers, thumbs moving slowly. The severity of the situation cut down on any levity. “I was right, I didn’t want to know.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s alright, there’s just nothing I can do with that information other than stir up what is already troubled. The Flies, I sensed them, they are listening. So I am glad to have this method.” She pecked his lips and they went on with their day.

Over the days, Jonah ached from carrying heavy ropes and was glad for his metal hands, or else his fingers would bleed from tying knots. Diana’s sparing with the Pirate went much the same as before, save the violent beginning of the first day. During the night, they took their dinner in their room and she was able to heal the bruises on her own. She did her best to ease his pain as well.

The results of her training weren’t as bad as the first day, but she still added more armor to her set to reduce the damage to what was uncovered. The extra pieces were kept in her bag, ones she said were typically reserved for war. This included greaves up to her shins, rerebraces on her biceps, extra tassets that covered her groin--turning it into a full skirt--and extensions to her vambraces that covered the tops of her hands. Filling out her equipment came on the third day, and the Pirate said nothing about it. The Hero's darts did ping off the new bark armor though.

After breakfast Jonah learned rigging, supervised and encouraged by Coal. The feeling that he was being watched came up many times. Then after lunch he swept the entire deck down. Why? He wasn’t sure. Everything he did felt like busy work. The automatons were capable of doing everything he did, but without needing time to recover. The brass people, painted to match the Pirate’s estetic, never slipped on the rope or forgot what knot they needed.

The first and second mate, the dwarf and his troll wife, were unbearable to work with. The dwarf would swat the rope from Jonah’s hands if he made a mistake. Then the troll woman would speak his praises nonstop, about how he was the best knot tier ever. Thankfully the physical abuse only lasted a day and a half, as Aiko, who had been supporting Diana with her busy work, came to help Jonah. Then any time that the dwarf tried to swat Jonah, the tiger roared at him. The short man, who was as tall as Jonah sitting, fell back in a faint. His wife tried to strike the tiger, claiming that her husband was dying, he was fine, but the apex predator received no harm. Any time he tried to harass Jonah after that the tiger came strolling over.

The sweeping was better than the ropes, he could listen to his music and watch Diana’s lack of progress against the Pirate. He rooted for her, but it didn’t seem to help. She had yet to hit Pirate with anything for days, except a pointed spiral of wind that scuffed her boot after the Hero dodged the majority of it. All other attempts were subsequently blocked by a wall of ice. Each little unmatched pelting of water drove Diana deeper into fury. It was the wide gap of power that kept her from confronting her about the Night Crew.

One night, after four days of fighting the Pirate, Diana typed on Jonah’s arm, “If I could, then I would teach her a bloody lesson!!”

They hardly had any time to themselves, once they ate dinner, they went to sleep. Five days into this schedule Diana crashed into her bowl, sending the food and it flying. As Jonah tried to help her, she kept snoring away with chowder on her face. The cat licked up the residue as Jonah cleaned up the rest. By the time Diana went to bed, her hair still smelled like clams.

This was miserable, and they knew it, sharing in the hardship with not much to say other than complaints. They couldn’t even talk with Kalyah. The Priestess was trapped in her room, only coming out for one meal a day, if that. Angelina usually took her to the side, asking about her progress. There wasn’t any, so far as they knew, and the grief took its toll on the Pixie elf’s face. She grew more and more tired and somber as the days went on.

One of the few comforts the two had, was seeing the open animosity the Pirate had for the Witch. Fia didn’t seem to notice or care, and she barely improved. She just ate her slop and slept on the table or wandered off to her room with the help of her Mimic. Angelina glared at her any time she passed her, sitting away from her at meals, and passing her with a huff.

On the seventh day of the grueling schedule, Jonah and Diana sat silently at the lunch table, eating mechanically. No one else was there to join them, though they had enough weariness and anguish for ten. When the Pirate came up to them, chipper as always, Diana told her that she would be taking a nap instead of fighting. The Hero’s face was hard to read, a placid mask, where even Jonah was expecting smugness.

Pirate turned to him. “You’ll get to sweep alone, then,” she said.

“He will be joining me,” Diana said, firmly. They had yet to discuss it, but he was glad for the invitation.

Angelina took in them for a moment, her jaw working out some thought. “Fine, you both need your rest, I suppose,” she said with a shrug. “Diana, tomorrow you’ll be giving another speech to the people.”

“On what?” she snapped. “That I’ve answered every damn report of people seeing gray cats and hated neighbors for a full week? Nothing has happened on the blasted radio and I’m of half a mind to break the bloody thing like Gregore!” She pointed to the object of her hatred. ”Don’t think that I have noticed you take your swim after every fucking breakfast, either!

“You’re doing a Hero’s work,” Angelina said plainly. “The analysts love hearing from their princess and the renowned Druid.”

Not met with hostility, Diana folded her arms stubbornly. “These are not what Gregore dealt with, I know his temper, this fucking mast would be broken in half within a week,” she mumbled. The seabreeze whipped about her ponytail in the prolonged silence.

“Ever since your first message, the reports have been rolling in, sadly, most of them are false.” Angelina explained. There was something more in her eyes, a consideration.

“All of them are false! There hasn’t been a fucking thing for a week!” Diana spat. “Any good will that is gained is destroying my patience. The Order might as well not exist, despite all the allied nations looking everywhere for them.”

The Hero threw her hands up, the anger finally coming. “I’m sorry, princess. Welcome to months of our lives in the last war. Take your nap, take tomorrow afternoon off too, the gods know I don’t need to practice every day. Tomorrow after breakfast you’ll give the speech and keep the people on the hunt for Blodwyn. Because that’s all we can do, there’s no Hero work without a villian!” She turned and walked away.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Take us to a port!” Diana called at her.

Angelina stopped and faced her. “Which one? We’re days from any land.”

“We can fly, can’t we?” she asked.

The captain tapped her foot, stopping her escape from the situation. “I’ll check, but there’s no telling how much salt is in the engines…”

“Do it then, I wish to fly to the nearest allied land,” Diana said, undeterred.

“I’ll do it.” Angelina huffed, walking off.

Diana sat, staring off for a moment. The tiredness had set in around her eyes and he could tell by her wincing that she had a persistent headache for the last few days. She buried her face in her hands. Cautiously Jonah put his arms around her shoulders. She wore her plain clothes, a long sleeved blouse and skirt. She leaned into his chest, for a second he thought she might cry, but she was seething.

“The death of my sister has killed my patience,” she hissed.

Jonah glanced over at the empty table, the Witch had yet to show her face all day. Even without her, he knew she was listening in. Still, he said, “Maybe if you had a better way of getting around, better Heroes, then you would be willing to wait. It’s important to have people be optimistic, but we don’t have alotta reasons to be. I’m sure there’s more Heroes to find and help us. Your mom and dad were ones, right?”

She put her hands down, gripping her thighs with them, looking up to the sky, probably for answers. “I doubt it, the Cleric is still dragging his feet and I have no idea how to contact the others. Gods, I wish I knew where the Ranger was, but even Angelina doesn’t have any clue. Many of them are retired, to my knowledge. As the Pirate said, they’re nothing without villains, and before all this bloody strife, there was little conflict to solve. Nothing clear cut like the Order war,” she said, taking a laborious breath. In one quick motion her arms were thrown around his neck. “Thank you for being here. I can’t go home, and I am unsure about talking to her over the radio. It has to be through a Druid communion with a tree.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see her in person,” he said, rubbing her back. “She’s a strong Druid, she could help you better than Angelina.”

She shook her head violently against him. “No, no, I cannot, I will not go back there,” she insisted. “I know you stayed a long while in your house. What I wouldn’t give to feel at home there again. Countless things were taken from me that night, the most important was my home. I was born there, and no other place I lived was like that bed and that room. I want to burn it though, all I remember is rising from it and finding my sister dead.” Her forehead ground into him, and she used his shirt to wipe her eyes free of tears. She shook, taking deep breaths to hold herself together.

It hurt him to see her in agony, but the worst part was denying it. Even he couldn’t ease that. Another person didn’t make everything better. Someone still had to choose what battles they fought, and which ones they would lose.

The breeze swept over them again, and its consuming rush of sound was interrupted by him.

“Jonah, what’s wrong?” Diana rose up from his chest and stared at him in stunned silence. “No, no, no, stop, please, stop it…” She drew a napkin from the table, wiping at his face, her hands shaking. “Please Jonah, don’t do this. You have nothing to be sad about. You are safe, I am keeping you safe. I am safe, everything is okay. It doesn’t matter what’s happening, we will get through it. Why? Why are you bloody crying?!” She bared her teeth, face blushed in frustration.

“I’m fucking sad!” he shouted, so loud it made her jump. “We’re stuck on the fucking ship with nothing to do but keep busy. You’re sad too, I know you are. Just admit it, Diana! Please! You fought to keep me with you! This is what I do! I fucking cry. I did it all the time after my mom died. It didn’t help much, but it helped some…” He sniffled, taking the napkin from her frozen hands. He unashamedly blew his nose into it.

Diana took on a stoic visage, one he had seen before, one far more stoney than usual.

Aiko the tiger pushed its head into Diana’s lap, a strange quality came to its eyes as she looked at them. Grabbing another napkin from the table, Diana wiped at her own face, tugging out the ponytail in her hair. Her crimped locks flapped lightly in the wind. “Oh gods, I look like my fucking mother,” she mumbled into the fabric. “I can’t start Jonah, I am glad you can do it. I cannot. Please, accept that as an apology. Don’t cry for me and don’t cry over me. I live how I live and it keeps me waking up in the morning. No, I can’t do it alone, and you’re the only way I can sleep.” She took his hand. “I thank you for how I am able to live. I’m finally fine with you, and that’s how I go on…”

He remembered Kalyah talking about being gone from her for her own good. To her surprise and his own, he stood up and slipped from her grip. “I need a minute to think. I like sweeping, it lets me think and listen to music. I’ll do that. Go ahead, you’re way more tired than me, you need to take a nap,” he said, clenching his fist to stop the trembling.

Diana covered her hand with her mouth, pressing it hard into her jaw.

“Just, go sleep, relax, okay?” he said.

She nodded. If there were tears, he told himself, he would have stayed. She only stared off at nothing.

By time the whole deck was swept, and Jonah was so tired of the twisting turmoil within him, he entered his cabin once more as night blackened the sky. He closed his eyes when the door opened, fearing the worst had happened. The practical worst, he imagined a million terrible events while he worked. He feared that Diana might order Angelina to drop him off in some foreign land, or that she would leave him on the ship to the monsters and the Pirate’s fury. That one day he would be charmed to be a slave to the Witch. The nervousness in his bloodstream was such a foul curse that fresh air and music could do little to subdue it. A physical relationship only gave him more reasons to feel its claws on him.

He opened his eyes to see Diana sitting on his bed in her nightclothes, reading a book. She drew the marker through it and placed it beside the sleeping cat Aiko. She swallowed, waiting for him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, shutting the door.

“Am I not welcome?” she asked, a note of fear in her voice.

“No, I just thought you would be angry with me,” he said, coming to the side of the bed.

She shook her head. “I am not. Are you?”

He thought for a moment, seeing her eyes dart about with each passing second. “No, I only want you to deal with your loss in a healthy way,” he said, boiling down hours of imagined arguments to one sentence.

She drew her feet up to her. “I understand. What was it that you said? Something about two weeks being two minutes?”

“Yeah, that’s how I looked at it. That’s also how I justified doing nothing for two years,” he said with a frown. “I didn’t even touch my mom’s room in all that time. That’s not really healthy, I guess, but it helped me go on. Like, I don’t know, fucking grief junk food.”

She chuckled darkly, sighing. “I will get there, or get over it. To me, it doesn’t help to break down. Even in private and I am sorry if that’s not how you think I should do it. We are only a week into this… pairing. Is that going to be the thing that breaks us when all that has brought us together is far worse?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “God no, one week of this is better than all of my last relationships.”

She smirked at him. “So you are still willing to sell your soul to be beside a woman like me?” she asked, turning towards him.

“You should probably just forget I said that,” he said quietly.

She waved her hand. “Oh, I am royalty, I have had far worse lines said about me. Directly to me. Men that I have courted for weeks have written full poems about my eyes. A page about these earth colored things,” she said, gesturing to her face.

The relief of his fretting was a heavy weight off him, a tensed muscle finally relaxed. There wasn’t a good settlement, but there was one at all. Stagnation on an issue was better than a fiery argument that ripped them apart.

“Your eyes are very pretty, if I had a piano I could write a song about them,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, popping off the bed. Her arms went around him and he felt an extreme tightness in the embrace. “I tossed and I turned. Had I not spent a week dueling against a Hero, I don’t think I would have slept a moment,” she said, fingers pressing into his back. “Then I woke from a nightmare and reached out for an empty half of the bed. Aiko sat there, ignoring me." She took a deep breath, looking up at him with a pitiful face. It made him feel better to know that she had yet to push it down as far as she could.

“I’m here now,” he said, laying his hand on her cheek. One day, he thought, one day she would deal with it.

She leaned into it. While he felt her body’s warmth, she relaxed in his coolness. “I could not do this alone,” she said. “And to think I tried to leave.”

“What?” he asked, a jolt running through him.

“I did not, I am here. I wanted to lay in my own bed, I was furious. At myself or at you, I don’t know. Aiko would not let me,” she said evenly. “She is my familiar, my guide. I listened to her instead of my own anger.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. He was pushing down his hours of worries then.

“Whatever the future holds, we will manage like this. The Heroes have left me and you to each other. A fine pairing.” She raised up on her toes and pecked his lips. “Such a fine pairing.”

“Yeah, we can take anything,” he said, nodding. Even the monsters living aboard the ship with them, he thought. They were safe in their busy work, but for how long?