The Coldest Sea

  He fights to break the ice trapping his ship. She fights to melt the ice binding his heart.

  Eden Series, Book 5

  After a broken betrothal, musician Maggie Juell boards the ship Fallstar, hoping enough time and distance will change her ex-fiancé’s mind. Fallstar is nothing like she expected—and neither is its brooding, darkly handsome captain.

  Deeply bitter over his last ship’s sinking, Captain Vinsen Solarcis is embarking on the final voyage of his career. Though he’s drawn to Maggie’s warmth and courage, he reminds himself she’s in love with another man fool enough to jilt her.

  When they encounter a foreign castaway who claims more survivors are stranded on a giant iceberg, Vinsen sails to the rescue—only to find they aren’t quite so helpless after all. Fallstar is trapped within a magical wall of ice.

  Vinsen and Maggie share a single passionate night before he leads a desperate mission to free his ship. But Maggie has no intention of being left behind…although the cold, blue heart of the iceberg holds secrets darker than she ever imagined.

  Warning: Contains a woman who had her heart set on marrying the right man, but finds herself falling for the wrong one. A giant bear, raunchy banter, sex in inappropriate places, and not nearly enough ice to cool their desire down.

  The Coldest Sea

  Marian Perera

  Dedication

  For Dr. Adam Toguchi,

  who showed me the cure for a failed experiment (Scotch, and lots thereof), bought me breakfast more times than I can count, and put up with being nicknamed Fuzzy.

  The heart of man is very much like the sea,

  It has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too.

  —Vincent van Gogh

  Chapter One

  Fallstar

  Maggie Juell stopped at the foot of the gangplank and turned to look behind her. The people on the docks went about their work and no one seemed to notice her.

  Not that she stood out among them. She looked like just another passenger, except she was about to board a freighter—and secretly wished she wouldn’t have to.

  Turning, she checked the name painted on the hull. Fallstar, so she was at the right place. Two dockworkers carried a crate to the gangplank, and she stepped back to make room for them. Everyone on the ship except the captain was a stranger to her, but the captain probably had better things to do than stand there keeping an eye out for her. So whether she liked it or not, she had to go aboard.

  Besides, the deck would give her more of a vantage point, a better view of the busy dockside. One face in the crowd, that was all it would take.

  Hefting her valise in one gloved hand and her violin case in the other, she climbed up the gangplank. A woman on the deck saw her and moved to the head of the plank, barring the way.

  Well, that was to be expected, since it wasn’t a passenger ship. Maggie smiled, hoping her arrival wasn’t completely unexpected. The woman’s face was as closed as a clamshell.

  “I’m Maggie Juell.” If the worst came to the worst, she’d drop her brothers’ names, but for now, the captain’s would do. Aboard his own ship, it had better do. “I’ve arranged passage with the captain.”

  She put her cases down, fished out the letter he’d sent her and handed it over. As the woman unfolded the paper, Maggie looked around the deck, but it wasn’t easy to see people with the sails in the way. The captain could be in the rigging somewhere, inspecting the ship before its departure, and she didn’t know what he’d be wearing, since the only uniforms she was familiar with were those specific to warships.

  Finally the woman handed the letter back, with no change in expression. Maybe she wasn’t familiar with the captain’s penmanship, and it wasn’t as though the document was official or sealed. Or even signed with a full name, instead of just the initials VS.

  To Maggie’s relief, the woman moved aside. “I’m Joama Kley, the first mate. Welcome aboard Fallstar.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said, relieved.

  “I’ll have someone take you to your cabin.” She called out a brusque order.

  A cabin. No one could see her if she was belowdecks. But she couldn’t remain here; the deck was busy, especially with the ship about to leave harbor. Besides, a small cynical part of her pointed out, the man she’d once hoped to marry knew which harbor she would leave from. He knew the ship’s name and its time of departure. It wasn’t as though she’d kept silent but was now waiting for him to figure everything out somehow and save her.

  For the last time, she looked out over the docks, searching the crowd. It was cold, so some of the people had covered their heads, but no one made for Fallstar with purposeful speed. No one looked around desperately, much less called for her. In that moment she knew he was well over two hundred miles away.

  A pointed tapping sound came from behind her, and when she turned, Joama was waiting none too patiently, a man beside her. “Jak will take you below,” Joama said.

  The man touched his cap politely, then took her cases. Maggie followed him to the nearest hatch and down the ladder. The confines of the passageway below were slightly less cold, and Jak led her to a cabin lit by pallid sunlight from a tiny window.

  Maggie had a feeling the place would have looked better in the dark. A rusting washstand beside the wall supported a chipped pitcher and basin. That, a chair, a hammock and a rug were the only signs the place was intended to hold a person, rather than crates of supplies. The rug, which might once have been red and blue, didn’t reach the corners of the cabin, but those were taken up by cobwebs anyway. Jak set her cases down and turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Maggie said quickly. “When are meals served?” She wasn’t in the least hungry, and in that cabin, she might never be, but she didn’t want to be abandoned, as if she was a piece of freight brought aboard. Which wasn’t exactly fair, since she wasn’t paying for her passage and this man probably had plenty of duties to occupy him—but then where was the captain whose letter had granted her permission to travel on board?

  “Oh, the midday meal is served at twelve bells, ma’am,” Jak said. “And supper at six. You’ll have to go to the galley for those.”

  “I will.” She certainly hadn’t expected anyone to carry her food to her cabin. “Thank you. One last thing. I—I was expecting to see Captain Solarcis.” She stopped, wondering how best to continue. “Would you let him know I’ve arrived?” she finished, a little lamely.

  Jak shifted his feet. “I’ll be sure to ask the first mate to let him know, ma’am.”

  Something seemed wrong, but as the man let himself out, Maggie told herself not to imagine things. There could be a chain of command she wasn’t aware of, certain proprieties to be respected and ways of doing things, such that an ordinary deckhand didn’t approach the captain for any reason but went through the first mate instead.

  She could only hope Joama Kley would pass the message on, because the first mate had looked indifferent at best to the prospect of a passenger. Perhaps she didn’t like the idea of such people on a freighter—especially if they hadn’t paid for passage but would need food and water—though in that case she should have taken up the matter with the captain.

  Maggie’s lips twitched as she thought of how her older brothers, both captains in the navy, would have responded to such a complaint. She wished she could have gotten passage on their ships instead, but neither of them was heading north to Half Moon Harbor, part of the city of Lyrance.

  Once she reached Lyrance, she’d be fine. The other letter in her pocket offered her a position at an academy of performing arts there, and she had written to accept. Three week
s’ travel, and she’d be far away from everything. Whatever the situation on Fallstar, she could survive three weeks of it. Especially after what had happened at home.

  That was enough dithering, so she got to work. Nothing to be done about the floor, since she didn’t have a scrub brush or a pail, but she unhooked the hammock and shook it out. She did the same for the blankets folded inside. Then she took a clean rag from her valise and wiped away every cobweb she could reach. The spiders went through the open window, where they could benefit any fish that managed to survive in harbor water.

  Having the window open made her shiver, but thankfully it faced away from the docks, so she wasn’t tempted to keep watching in a futile yet stubborn hope. Instead she worked, listening to the distant orders shouted from above and the whap of canvas snapping taut with wind. Finally she washed her face and hands—the water in the pitcher was cold, but since they hadn’t left harbor yet, at least it was fresh—and moved the single chair so she could look out of the window.

  Mooring ropes were cast off, and she heard a sliding metallic rattle that she guessed was the anchor chain being raised. No going back now. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  The ship rocked gently and began to move. Maggie watched the harbor go by, sliding steadily backward until the docks disappeared. A bell rang the fifth hour and unseen seabirds shrieked. The ship creaked and thudded all around her, but the sound of the sea was deeper and all-pervasive in comparison.

  The sunlight, pale to begin with, grew dimmer and soon there was nothing beyond the window except miles of water. Maggie closed the shutters. It would be suppertime shortly, and though she’d never been seasick, she wasn’t particularly hungry either. She felt isolated, alone in her cabin. If only she’d had enough money for a berth on a passenger ship, where there would be other people to meet and talk with.

  If only she were back home, with the man she loved.

  Stop that. She would go to the galley for her meal, and if Vinsen Solarcis was there, she would know at least one person on the ship. Then he’d introduce her to his officers as her brothers would have done—which was how she’d met him in the first place.

  In fact, she might be asked to join him for supper. She knew that much about naval etiquette. The captain always invited his officers and guests for a meal in his cabin on the first night of a journey, and the food was supposed to be especially good at such a time. Best to get ready, then.

  With a tiny mirror in her valise, she examined herself. A stray cobweb clinging to her would be very noticeable on her black coat. No, she was clean and tidy, so she tried to smile, but it wasn’t very convincing.

  Her looks had never really mattered to her. Perhaps because she’d grown up roughhousing with two older brothers, the focus of her life was music, and she’d always known she was no great beauty. Everything about her was long—long face, long fingers, long legs—except for her hair. That should have been long, so it had turned out wide instead.

  But Anthny had known her from the time they were small children. He’d seen her muddy and gap-toothed and gawky, and he didn’t seem to have minded.

  What he hadn’t seen was her younger sister, Feona.

  No, she wasn’t going to think about him, especially now that it was too late. She tucked a stray curl back into place in the net she always wore, confining her too-abundant hair like a haul of fish, and put the mirror away. Finally she found a bottle of sandalwood scent and spared a drop for each wrist before she sat back down to wait.

  Despite the closed window, she heard the bell ring the sixth hour.

  There was no knock on her door. Maggie waited. Then she waited some more, though once again a hollow misgiving crept through her to tell her she was searching for something that would never be there.

  The captain didn’t owe her his company, she reminded herself. He’d given her free passage aboard his ship, which was a favor she couldn’t repay. He was certainly under no obligation to do anything more. So since she had to eat at some point, best to go do it before the food was all finished.

  She locked the door behind her. Lanterns had been lit against the gloom below, and although the passageway was cramped, it wasn’t too cold. She could imagine what the chill would be like topside, since that winter promised to be a sharp-toothed one.

  A deeper kind of chill came from the crew. People were still lined up for their meal, but if they talked at all, they did so in subdued mutters. Most of them didn’t seem to notice her, and no one said a word to her. She had never felt so self-conscious, but she pretended unconcern and at least the dog tethered outside the galley was friendly. A big black-and-white pointer, it licked her fingers when she scratched it behind the ears, and it seemed to be a favorite among the crew too. A lot of them tossed scraps its way, and the dog gobbled those as though it had never been fed in its life.

  Maggie might have given it her meal too, since the food was an unappealing slop of chopped meat and beans stewed together, but it tasted much better than it looked. When she thanked the cook for the meal, she might as well have spoken in another language. But he silently pushed a piece of hardtack into her hand, which was the kindest gesture she’d encountered all day, and she took that to her cabin. She could eat it for breakfast, which meant she didn’t need to go out until it was time for the midday meal—or even supper, if she could last that long.

  But after she lit a candle, tuned her violin and began to play, familiar music filled the cabin, and she slipped without a second thought into the thrumming, heartbeat-fast chords of “The Descent”. Not as good without drums, but still powerful enough to make her feel strong too.

  No, she wasn’t going to hide in her cabin, especially since she didn’t want to make the same mistake she’d made at home. Her parents had told her she wasn’t to blame for Anthny’s breaking off their betrothal, but she did bear some responsibility for it. Anthny had never been aware of how much she had loved him, because she had never told him.

  It hadn’t occurred to her to do so, partly because they had been friends for so long and partly because their fathers had always wanted them to marry. Maybe she had taken him for granted. Besides, she had never been very good at verbalizing her deepest feelings, and by the time he’d fallen in love with her sister, it was too late.

  Well, she could change that much about herself. Rather than being reserved and held-back, she’d go after what she wanted, and what she wanted was to be treated as if she mattered. Whatever was happening on the ship, she had every right to be here, and she’d start at the top—with the captain.

  She finished the song, blood tingling through her arms, and reread Vinsen Solarcis’s letter by candlelight. It was short, as terse as his signature at the end. All it said was that she was welcome to travel on Fallstar, and a cabin would be available. He gave the date and time of the ship’s departure, and named the exact dock where it—she, Maggie corrected herself—would be moored.

  She folded the paper, drawing her fingernails along the creases to make them sharper, and thought what to do. Once she settled on a plan, she put her violin away and undressed, shivering until she pulled on a flannel nightgown and wrapped herself in the blankets. The candle went out in a puff of breath and she was asleep in moments.

  She spent the next morning practicing in her cabin—nerving herself up, she knew—and climbed topside an hour before the midday meal. The sun was brighter, though the wind was strong, and a sailing master shouted orders to the crew as they hauled at ropes. Ships like Fallstar were supposed to be decommissioned and retired in favor of new technology, but the sails looked splendid, huge and straining at the ropes that ran off in all directions and the yardarms that held them to the masts. Even higher were the crows’ nests and the black-circle-on-white flag of Denalay.

  With the wind in her ears and all the activity on the deck, she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were close enough to make her turn. It was J
oama, the hood of her jerkin pulled up over her head.

  “It’s safer for passengers to be belowdecks,” she said.

  “I was wondering if, uh—”

  “Yes, I told Captain Solarcis you were aboard.”

  As before, he was nowhere to be seen. Maggie knew her brothers loved being on the decks of their ships, and even if they hadn’t, they would have been there, making their presence felt to the crew. She didn’t understand why the captain of this ship hadn’t so much as acknowledged her either.

  “Is it something I’ve done?” If that was the case, she’d have to revise her plan. “Other than being on the deck, that is. If so, please let me know, so I can stop doing it.”

  Her bluntness seemed to make an impression. Joama’s face didn’t change—the woman was inscrutable—but there was a flicker in her eyes, as though she’d blinked too fast to be seen.

  “It’s nothing you’ve done,” she said shortly.

  As if she has to pay silver for every word she speaks. “Is Captain Solarcis all right?”

  “Are you a friend of his?”

  Maggie started to say yes, then shook her head reluctantly. She wasn’t that good a liar. “I know him through my brothers, that’s all. Lieutenant Kley, I thought—”

  “This isn’t a warship. We don’t have those ranks. Joama will do.”

  “Joama.” The conversation felt like pushing a rock uphill, but Maggie had to be certain of what she was going to do. “I thought it was tradition for the captain of a ship to eat with guests on the first night of a voyage. I’m not paying for my passage, but…”

  “I’m aware of that tradition.”

  “So it’s him, then?”

  Even as she said that, she knew she’d overstepped a line. Joama didn’t bother to check that the captain wasn’t within hearing distance, which meant she didn’t expect him to be on the deck. “I need to return to my duties.”