The Bright and Breaking Sea (A Captain Kit Brightling Novel Book 1)

She slept for six hours, and woke squinting in sunlight, still wearing her clothes from the day before.

By the time she made it to the deck, Simon was at the helm, sailors on watch undertaking their morning tasks. She didn’t see Grant, which was probably just as well.

The wind was at their backs and just off port, the frigates in their tidy arrow behind the Diana, and the sun rising above the bow and over the bank of clouds along the eastern horizon. That was the storm, now bearing down over Frisia; she hoped anyone else on the water had time to prepare.

“Captain,” Simon said as she looked over the ship, checking for storm damage and finding none—or at least none that hadn’t already been repaired while she slept.

“Good morning,” she said. “Everything looks to be in fighting trim.”

Simon nodded. “Once the rain slowed, the storm moved quickly. We’re forty miles out from Forstadt by my reading.”

“Which is always accurate,” she said, and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you for the sleep.”

“Thank you for Watson,” Simon said.

“How is she?”

“Good,” he said with a smile, then gestured toward the bow, where Watson upbraided a seaman for a very sloppy hitch.

Her ship was in order, her crew was safe, the sun was shining, and the wind was in their favor. There was little more a captain could ask for. Unless she was Aligned.

Kit glanced at the water. The sea was breaking, but it was bright, diamonds shimmering across its surface. Then she reached down, expecting to feel the current bright again, and found it . . . gone.

Not just broken. Not just pale. And not a null where there’d been no current. It was absent, its loss leaving a mark in the sea, in her mind.

She looked up toward the horizon, toward the direction of Forstadt.

What the hell had gone on there?

In silence, Grant and Jin and Simon and Kit—and Tamlin in the top—watched as a long green smear came into view toward the east. A low island of dark trees, wisps of fog drifting through them like serpents. No sails, no ships. And no sign of any recent habitation on the island.

But that was wrong. Not just because of Dunwood, of the dispatch, but because of the magic—or absence of it—leading them like an arrow to this place.

“Captain?” Simon asked.

“Circle it,” she said. “And keep a hard eye out for sails.”

“Aye,” Simon said with a nod.

They found what they were looking for on the eastern shore, protected as it was from the pounding waves of the Northern Sea—an inlet and sandy cove marked by the framework of scaffolds that would have held a ship in the process of its construction.

And there was no ship.

Kit cursed the captains, the weather, the damned Guild. But forced her anger down. They needed information, and she needed satisfaction regarding the source of the magic. They’d have to explore the island for that.

“Here,” Kit said as they rounded the inlet, had gone as close to the shore as they dared. “Signal the frigates to prepare their boats. We’ll meet on the cove.”

The sails were doused, the anchor weighed, the jolly boat prepared for launch.

“Jin, Grant, and Hobbes, with me. Be careful and be ready.” She looked at Simon. “You have the helm, and the same instructions. We’re close enough to Frisia and Aleman both that we need to be careful. Any sign of sails, of trouble, and you signal us.”

“Aye, Captain,” he said. “We’ll keep a watchful eye. You do the same.”

Kit’s small team piled into the boat, were dropped down into the water, and rowed toward the island.

Hobbes and Jin climbed out of the boat first, hopping down into foot-deep water. They pulled the boat onto the shore, found the sand hard packed, probably from the storm, a frilled lace of shell and seaweed several yards inland where the storm tide had reached.

Without waiting for the other boats, Kit climbed a wall of sand cut in by hard waves. The land above had scruffy grass and small shrubs, and led to a forest of trees. The storm damage was obvious. Detritus washed ashore, leaves stripped from the nearest trees.

And at the edge, the scaffolding she’d seen. Or, she belatedly realized, what would have been the scaffolding.

A dozen enormous wooden posts would have supported a boat during its construction. But only half that were still standing, and they looked like they’d been burned about the edges, which were charcoal dark. The rest were on the ground, scattered among chunks of wood and sawdust and bits of frazzled rope. They looked charred, too, and Kit imagined they’d have been smoking if the storm hadn’t doused the fire.

“Vas tiva es,” she heard Hobbes say, and looked up, as the taste of smoke—round and acrid—scratched the back of her throat. She wasn’t Aligned to the land, but—maybe because she was so close to the water—could feel that the island’s magic had been spent. Stripped away, just like the current.

Kit walked to Hobbes, would have asked what she’d found, but could see it for herself.

A man on his stomach, dead for at least a day or two, Kit guessed. She wasn’t sure what had done him in, not without moving him, but there were burns on his back, arms, legs, where simple and worn fabric had been burned away, left his skin singed.

“There are more,” Grant said behind her. “We’ve counted four. All look to be workers here.”

“Burns?” Kit asked, without looking back.

“Yes,” was his simple reply. And he extended his hand. In his palm was a charred bit of metal, a round disk that could be folded over to slip onto a collar, through a buttonhole. She could just see the outline of an imperial eagle.

“A Guild trade token,” Kit said. A badge of protection and affiliation worn by Guildmembers.

Grant nodded, slipped it into his pocket. “One of the men was wearing it. The Guild is responsible for this.”

“Captain,” Hobbes said, voice quiet and stuck through with fear, “what happened here?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said. But she had an idea, because she knew what had happened at Contra Costa. She looked back at Grant, and saw the same knowledge in his face.

The other boats had landed, sailors dispersing to search the island. “Captain!” one of them called out, gesturing Preston closer. Unabashed, Kit and her crew followed, and found the sailor standing near a darkened circle of earth twenty feet across.

“A fire,” the sailor said. “They were burning wood?”

“No,” Grant said. “They weren’t burning anything. At least not on purpose.”

She could see Preston prepared to interrogate, to ask for more information, but she ignored him, looked at the sailors. “If any of you are Aligned to land, can you sense the magic here? Can you feel it?”

There was silence as sailors looked busily at the ground, the sky. Not entirely surprising, Kit thought, given Preston’s attitude. And Thornberry’s was probably similar.

“Jackson,” Smith said, “you’ve a land Alignment. Can you feel anything?”

A young man with dark skin and hair, looking slightly abashed at being called out, nodded firmly. “Captain. There’s no magic here.”

Smith’s brows lifted. “Is your Alignment so different?”

“Sir, my place is different than this—I’m from near Thornpole—but I can still feel the magic here, or what magic there would have been. But it’s . . . gone.” He looked at Kit. “There’s a shadow where it was. A void. But no power.”

“I understand,” Kit said. “Thank you.”

“Captain Brightling,” Preston said impatiently. “Would you like to enlighten us?”

His tone, impatient and prim, said he didn’t believe anything Kit had to say would be enlightening in the least.

“Contra Costa,” was all she said, naming the battle in which thousands had been killed because Gallic soldiers had tried to use the current as a weapon of war.

Preston’s eyes lit with anger. “Leave us!” he said, the words a whip of sound, and sailors scattered.

Hobbes and Jin looked at Kit, and she nodded. They moved to stand with the others. Grant, for his part, made no move at all.

Then Preston turned on her. “How dare you. An officer cannot throw out those words whenever it suits her whim. You will incite panic in the ranks.”

She felt, more than saw, Grant braced against the insult. “It doesn’t suit my whim at all,” she said calmly. “It’s a fact.”

“Nonsense,” Thornberry said. “They wouldn’t dare try to manipulate magic again, not given the losses.”

“There is only one loss Gerard cares about,” Grant said. “That of his own throne. His soldiers, his sailors, were fungible. They were pawns.”

“The island had magic,” Kit said. “The magic is gone not just from here, but from, to varying degrees, the water several hundred miles away.” She gestured to the wrecked scaffolding. “A ship was built here; the ship is now gone. And a catastrophe occurred here, one that scorched the earth, blew apart the dock, killed the workers.” Who were now confirmed to be members of the Guild, but she kept that thought to herself, as she still wasn’t certain of the captains’ motives.

“You think the ship pulled in the island’s magic somehow,” Smith said. “Used it as fuel.”

“A ship cannot sail with magic alone,” Preston said.

“Not before,” Kit said. “Or maybe we’ve entered a new era, a new time, and they’ve figured out a way to use the current as fuel in a more consistent manner. And with devastating side effects.”

Thornberry snorted his disdain. But Preston’s gaze had narrowed. He might not like it, but he was smart enough to understand the wisdom in what she’d said.

“And the doldrums?” Preston asked. “The storm?”

Kit gestured toward the destruction. “Caused by whatever was taking place here. Wounding the magic of the land, the sea, affects them both in multiple ways, including weather. There were similar effects at Contra Costa, and the magic required to move a large ship would be substantial. The consequences would be catastrophic.” They only had to look around to see that.

“This is all speculation,” Thornberry said. “Nonsense from a female trying to puff herself up.”

“Reasonable speculation,” Grant said, and Kit saw Thornberry’s eyes flash, probably angry a civilian had dared challenge him.

“And as I’m the only soldier here,” Grant continued, “and likely the only one who saw Contra Costa firsthand, I suspect you’ve no cause to argue with her conclusions.”

He was at Contra Costa, Kit thought. And had said nothing of it, despite knowing the possibilities of what they’d sailed into. Her sympathy matched against esteem.

“The timing,” Smith said, frowning. “The storm just happened. They couldn’t have evacuated so quickly.”

“If we’re right, the storm followed the taking of the magic,” Kit said. “That means they launched the boat before we left Norgate.” And likely had been testing it before then.

“You think they knew we were coming,” Smith said. “They made their preparations, evacuated the island so there’d be no evidence of who committed this violation of the treaty, and left on the ship. Or with it.”

“Or they feared they wouldn’t reach Dunwood before we did,” Kit said, “so they launched.”

That might have been true. But she thought it far more likely someone at Crown Command had learned about their mission and sent a message to Forstadt before the Diana was repaired, before she rendezvoused with the squadron.

Silence fell, heavy and uncertain.

“We should be careful,” Kit said. “And we should be sure. We need to search the island.”

To that, at least, the captains made no objection. They split into groups to search the quadrants of the isle. Kit led her people down a path that moved inland. Many of the trees near the shore had been cut for lumber, but the forest thickened as they walked. The path eventually led to a meadow, where they found a barn with a pointed roof and long, low buildings that looked to her like barracks. Empty now, but for the detritus of those who’d lived and worked here.

They searched for two more hours, but found nothing else useful. The activity, the effort of building a new kind of warship, had been focused along the coast. What evidence they found was collected, gathered for transport and analysis in New London, before they joined the other captains at the shore again.

“We’ve found what there is to find,” Smith said. “We should make for New London immediately.”

“Agreed,” Kit said.

“What about the ship?” Grant asked. “Ought we not search for it?”

“It’s had several days’ head start,” Kit said, “and could be anywhere by now. Most likely, if this was a test of its magic, it has moved inland, toward the coasts where it will have protection from storms and snooping eyes.”

“And if we send frigates snooping along Frisian or Aleman shores,” Smith put in, “we may create more problems than we solve.”

Grant nodded. Kit could tell he didn’t like the idea of leaving the warship free and in open water, but nor did she trust the frigates to report to the queen alone.

“We’ll lead the squadron home,” Kit said. “Arrow formation, just as before. And be wary. It’s unlikely we’ll find either the gun brig or whatever was built here along the way, but be wary.”

“We’ll handle the report to the queen,” Thornberry said, tone conciliatory, as if he were doing Kit a favor. More like, Kit thought, he was hoping to get to the queen before she did in order to spin his tale of heroism.

“Do as you will,” Kit said. “I will, of course, make my own report.”

Thornberry’s face went hard. “That won’t be necessary given—”

“I wasn’t asking,” Kit interrupted. “Given your doubts about magic, it would hardly be appropriate for you to report on it.”

Thornberry and Smith walked away. Preston stayed where he was, and looked down his titled, narrow nose at Kit.

“Impudence is unbecoming in a young officer. Particularly a female.”

“Arrogance is unbecoming in an old officer, regardless of gender. So I suppose we both have things to complain about.”

With that, she walked away, and left him staring after her.

“That appeared to be a relatively peaceful discussion,” Jin said from the polite distance they’d stood and waited for Kit to commune with the captains. “At least until the end.”

“Peaceful enough,” Kit said. “Is he still staring angrily?”

Jin made a less-than-subtle glance in Preston’s direction. “Yes. Did you dare have an opinion of your own?”

“I was impudent,” Kit said with a snort. “Which, I’m told, is unbecoming in female officers.”

“That was . . . regrettable,” Jin said.

“The words, yes, although I doubt he’s capable of the emotion. In any event, we’ve agreed it’s time to leave. Not that they had much choice.”

“Given we found Dunwood, the dispatch, and the former shipyard?” Jin asked with a narrow smile.

“Given,” she agreed, “but let’s not award the medals yet. We’ve leagues to go and a pair of egoists between us.”

Kit and the others were walking back toward the boat when someone called her name. She looked back, found a woman jogging toward them. She had pale skin, a sturdy body with square shoulders and a lean waist, and silvery-white hair, short on the sides and swooping high over her crown. Her eyes were bright and sharp, and she wore the plain blue jacket of a midshipman.

“Apologies for the interruption, Captain, but could I have a moment?”

“Of course,” Kit said with not a little curiosity, and nodded for the others. “Get the jolly boat ready.”

“Could we, perhaps, speak over the rise?” the midshipman asked, gesturing toward a more secluded spot.

“All right,” Kit said, suspicious but curious, and they walked toward the tree line.

The woman waited until they were alone. “We just wanted to let you know—we believe you were mistreated.”

Kit raised her brows. “Was I?”

“I don’t like to speak out of turn; my family has been Crown Command for three generations, and I understand and respect chain of command. But there are four of us Aligned on Thornberry’s ship, and we know when we’re being asked, if you’ll pardon the expression, to shovel shit.”

Kit glanced at her uniform, noted her rank. “You speak frankly, Midshipman . . . ?”

“Cooper, ma’am. Midshipman Cooper of the Divine. And I rarely speak otherwise, ma’am.” That grin was cheeky again.

“You’re one of the Aligned?”

“I am, sir. To the land. I keep my head down, and I’ll do as I’m ordered; we all will. But we serve the queen, and the Isles. We just wanted you to know.”

Kit inclined her head, watched Cooper rejoin her crew. Kit understood chain of command, and had a deep distrust—if admittedly an indoctrinated one—of people who broke that chain. But she also understood duty and honor, and she sympathized with Cooper’s frustration, and not just because Cooper was agreeing with her.

She turned to walk back to the boat, and as she cleared the small rise, found Grant, Preston, Smith, and Thornberry stood a few feet away, oblivious to her presence. It would have been the polite thing to alert them.

But she wasn’t that polite.

“Lord Grant,” Thornberry said. “I’m surprised to see you’ve affiliated yourself with Captain Brightling. Aligned, and a foundling. Unknown connections.”

Rian’s brows lifted. “A foundling who’s become a captain in your service, Thornberry, with an Alignment that appears to have solved the puzzle laid out here.”

Thornberry’s stance went rigid. “Now see here—” he began, but Grant held up a hand.

“I see more than you’d probably prefer. I see ego and arrogance. I see two men who decided to play a game instead of following the queen’s orders.”

“We had no way of knowing—”

“But you did,” Grant said. “The queen gave you instructions, and Kit told you the details. You chose not to believe her. Because she’s younger than you? Because she’s a woman? Because she’s Aligned? She nearly died during the tempest to save one of her crew. Jumped overboard—into the sea during that storm—to save her. She has more bravery than you can even comprehend, much less summon. Perhaps the next time you decide to ignore the queen’s orders, you’ll remember that. And perhaps when the queen learns the truth, you’ll commit that particular lesson to memory.”

Preston’s eyes went hard and cold. “I hear your brother’s been gambling again,” he said, gaze scanning Grant’s face, as if looking for weakness. “Pity if those debts were called in, wouldn’t it?”

Grant met Preston’s gaze. “If you have issues with my brother, take them up with him. At present, you’re speaking to me. I’d wager that I have more connections than you, Preston. And mine are substantially higher.”

“You can’t threaten me.”

“Oh, I can. And back up the threat besides. But a threat won’t do Captain Brightling any good. And she’s the one who deserves the praise here. So I’m willing to forget your mistake,” Grant said. “If you are.”

“Meaning?” Smith asked.

She, at least, was willing to negotiate.

“If you want to discuss the ships’ delay in finding Forstadt in your reports, you blame it on the weather. Or mast problems. Or any number of issues related to the sailing of vessels in foreign oceans. You will not, as I surmise you are wont to do, fill those reports with claptrap about imagined magic. And if you fail to heed this,” Grant continued, cutting off Thornberry’s sputtering, “the queen will very quickly discover the truth, as will Admiral Lawrence.” He leaned forward, smiled. “His daughter’s a good friend.”

“We’ll be circumspect,” Smith said quickly, shutting off Preston’s rant with a pointed stare. “Assuming Captain Brightling offers the same consideration.”

“I’ll speak with her,” Grant said. “And you’d best hope she does.”

Kit was still staring when he turned back, found her standing nearby.

“Nosy, aren’t you?” he asked when she reached him.

“Curious,” she said. “And I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He looked dubious, which was fair.

“What you said . . .” she began.

“Was the truth.”

“You know as well as I there’s truth, and there’s truth. You’ve protected the reputation of my ship and my crew. So I’m forced, again, to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If Thornberry and his ilk are indicative of your interactions with the Beau Monde, I begin to understand your distaste.”

This was dodgy territory, Kit thought. “I’ve known few. None, at least in my experience, would have thought to defend me.”

“That’s a pity,” Grant said coolly.

“You were at Contra Costa,” Kit said, and Grant nodded. “You didn’t mention it.”

“There are some things better forgotten.”

Kit nodded.

“Captain,” Hobbes called out, and they looked over together, found Jin in the boat, Hobbes holding it at the waterline. The frigates were preparing to sail.

Grant looked at her expectantly, and Kit had the sense she was meant to say something to clear the air, but had no idea what that might be.

“We should go,” Kit said finally, and they walked in silence to the boat.