A Court of Muses Read online

  Errol had kept silent about what his mother had told him about his great-great-grandmother’s lineage. Even a drop of Morty blood would make him Witchkin rather than Fae in the crew’s eyes.

  Captain Arnfinnr placed a hand on Errol’s shoulder. “My wife and I have no children of our own. We will bring Alma to my wife, Sarah, and see if she takes a liking to the child.” He lifted Alma into his arms and cooed at her. Alma tried to grab the captain’s tricorn hat, probably because she wanted to steal it and wear it.

  Captain Arnfinnr’s paternal smile faded. “Now, Ensign Errol, your punishment. You get to swab the decks for breaking rules and attempting to sneak a stowaway on board.”

  * * *

  Captain Arnfinnr’s wife, Sarah, took an immediate liking to Alma. Errol couldn’t blame the woman. Alma had plump cherub cheeks and blonde hair. It was more golden than Errol’s—less like their mother’s, but she was an adorable baby.

  Errol sent his wages to the captain’s wife for her time looking after his sister. The captain insisted it wasn’t necessary, but his wife told Errol she would save the money for Alma for when she was older and needed a dowry for marriage.

  Errol was still permitted to visit when he went on holiday. Alma called Captain Arnfinnr Da and his wife Ma. Errol felt as though he’d been adopted into a new family as well. Life was happy for several years.

  He learned useful skills and practical magics for working in the navy. The ship traveling from port to port allowed him to see different parts of the Faerie Realm, and even the Morty Realm when they passed through sea portals, exposing him to many languages, Fae and human dialects.

  Everything was perfect. Naturally, it didn’t last.

  Errol’s world turned upside down when Captain Arnfinnr died in battle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Don’t Rock the Boat

  When Errol was sixteen, his ship encountered pirates raiding a town at the edge of the Silver Court’s territory. From the midnight plumage worn by many of the mercenaries, they looked like they were employed by the Raven Court, not pirates as one of the captives later claimed.

  Captain Arnfinnr died in the battle. Errol was still working as an ensign. He couldn’t help wondering whether there was something more he could have done for his captain—for this man who had practically adopted him—anything that might have prevented his death in the line of duty.

  When Errol broke the news to the captain’s wife, she simply said, “We will need to be practical about this. I can’t support your sister and myself on your pay and what I’ve saved alone. Your sister is old enough to work. I’ll write her a letter of recommendation. She can seek employment as a maid in a nobleman’s house.”

  Errol supposed that seemed fair. Alma was ten, far older than he’d been when he’d become a cabin boy.

  A new captain was assigned to Errol’s ship. He was a stern, unfriendly man. He scowled the most when he looked upon Errol, and the only time he deigned to speak with Errol personally was the day his hair became loose from his ponytail and the captain told him, “Tie back those pretty silver locks before one of the men mistakes you for a girl.”

  Errol obeyed. It had been years since he’d had a haircut forced on him—back when he’d been a cabin boy. Having his head shaved for lice had been humiliating enough. He didn’t want to give his new captain reason to make him cut his hair—or reason to dislike him.

  Soon after Alma started working for a noble family, Captain Arnfinnr’s wife remarried, to a commander in the air navy. Sarah wrote to Errol, telling him she and her new husband were moving away. His sister was old enough to take care of herself, she said.

  It wasn’t for another year that Errol was able to visit Alma in her new place of employment. Only then did he discover Sarah had kept Alma’s dowry.

  Worse, Alma was unhappy in the house where she was employed. When she wrote to him, she told him about how unpredictable her life could be, one moment the mistress being kind and at other times turning into a viper and striking out at anyone who happened nearby. Errol had worked with such men on the ship, but he hated the idea of his sister having to put up with such cruelty. It distressed him further to hear that the master’s son was always trying to get into the maids’ rooms at night.

  The three youngest maids shared a room, and they worked together to lock the door with magic.

  Errol didn’t want his sister to have to work in a place where she wasn’t safe.

  When Errol went to visit her, the house was smaller than he’d expected. The family was wealthy and noble, but their house wasn’t much larger than the flat that had belonged to Sarah and Captain Arnfinnr. He sat at the kitchen table with her as she cried and told him about her life there.

  The master’s son walked into the kitchen while Errol was there. He was a handsome man. He could have had any Fae woman he wanted, but apparently he preferred helpless eleven-year-old girls.

  Errol turned to his sister. “Is this the gent who tries to get into your room at night?”

  “Shush! You’ll cost me my job!” She looked to Errol with wide eyes. From the trepidation in her visage as she gazed at the man, Errol was certain this had to be her employer’s son.

  The rich man grimaced at Errol. “Who is this? From the silver hair, I take it someone with royal blood. From the uniform, obviously not a family well-off enough to keep their sons out of the navy.” He spat out the word “navy” as though it tasted bad.

  He raised an eyebrow at Alma. “I do hope you haven’t taken up with a sailor. Mother won’t stand for it.”

  Errol stood. “And I won’t stand for you trying to get into my sister’s room at night.” He punched the man in the nose.

  The crunch of bone satisfied Errol’s need for vengeance. The rich man buckled under the blow and began to sob.

  “Errol!” Alma shouted.

  “Gather up your things,” Errol said.

  He understood his rash action had cost his sister her job, but it wasn’t much of a life if she lived in fear all the time. Later one of his mates on the ship told him he was lucky the nobleman hadn’t pressed charges. Probably the only thing that had saved Errol was his silver hair, making him look like a noble himself. The idea was laughable that a prissy rich man might mistake him as being of royal birth, especially when no one on the ship treated Errol like he was any different from the rest of them. He had the same callouses as anyone else in the crew.

  Errol accompanied Alma in search of work, but it wasn’t easy since she came with no letter of reference. Eventually they found an elderly Fae woman in need of a maid in her kitchen.

  Alma seemed happy enough at first. Or at least she didn’t say there were any problems in her letters. Errol’s work on the ship kept him away until she was thirteen. When he came for a visit, he saw how miserable she was. There were dark circles under her eyes. The Fae mistress of the house worked Alma to the bone all day. Whenever the lady of the house wasn’t home, her husband chased the maids and tried to get under their skirts.

  “This is two houses in a row,” Errol complained. His lowly salary wasn’t enough to provide Alma with room and board as well as food. She had to work and make a living somehow.

  “Have you spoken with the lady of the house about the matter?” he asked.

  Alma’s cheeks flushed red. “Do you think a noble cares about someone like me?”

  Errol couldn’t imagine her employer would tolerate such behavior from her husband if she knew. She was a respectable lady. Errol convinced his sister to go to her mistress and explain her situation. Reluctantly, Alma agreed, calling upon her mistress while the lady was alone in the parlor taking her afternoon tea.

  Errol waited in the hall just outside the door. The whistle of songbirds came from the room, the tune familiar. It might have been a lullaby his mother once had sang to him as a child.

  Alma’s voice was soft and meek, unlike when she spoke boldly with Errol. He didn’t like hearing this change in
his sister, but he knew he also spoke differently to his superiors.

  “If it isn’t intruding, there’s an important matter I wish to discuss with Her Ladyship,” Alma said.

  Errol rolled his eyes, listening to her grovel. This was not the life he wanted for his sister. He cursed Sarah for stealing Alma’s dowry. His sister could have been living off his current wages if he’d had his past ones to give to her as well.

  “Of course you’re intruding,” the lady of the house said. “I suppose you’ve come to ask for a raise or some such thing. Am I correct?”

  Errol shifted from foot to foot uneasily, fearing Alma might lose her nerve.

  “No, my lady,” Alma mumbled. “I wish to speak to you about my work conditions.”

  The lady snorted, sounding very undignified.

  “I don’t like—none of us maids encourage—what I mean to say is—” Alma took in a deep breath. “I want your husband and his friends to stop trying to take liberties with me.” Alma’s voice rose with conviction. “I won’t stand for him pinching my bum as I’m scrubbing floors, and I won’t tolerate his advances anymore.”

  Errol beamed with pride to hear her courage, eager to tell her how proud he was of her. A whisper came from behind him. Two other maids had snuck up, listening in on the conversation as well.

  The lady of the house was silent for such a long moment, Errol held his breath in tense anticipation. The songbirds’ cheerful music had turned mournful. That didn’t bode well.

  “I see,” she said at last. “Is that all? Or do you intend to try to blackmail me as well?”

  “Blackmail?” Alma asked. “I don’t understand.”

  The woman’s tone was haughty and uninterested. “You’ll probably tell me some silly story that he’s had his way with you, and you’re now pregnant with his babe. And of course, you’ll threaten to spread rumors, though we both know you won’t.”

  “I’m not lying!” Alma said. “And I’m not trying to extort money out of you.”

  “I cannot see any other reason you would try to pester me over this matter.”

  Errol could hold his tongue no longer. He burst into the parlor. “Alma will bring this to the attention of the village magistrate.” He didn’t actually know whether that was the best course of action or she should see the sheriff instead. “Everyone will find out about your husband and his philandering ways.”

  The lady had the silver hair of many related to the royal family, though hers was fashioned high on her head like a cage, holding birds within the bars of hair. The birds stopped singing momentarily when he entered the room.

  “And just who is this?” The lady of the house looked him up and down. “I suppose this is the young man who actually had his way with you and got you with child. Is he the one who put you up to this ploy to trick us into paying you?”

  Errol supposed they looked different enough one might not realize they were related. He was six years older, and his hair was the silver blond of many in the Silver Court, while Alma’s was closer to the hue of dark honey.

  “This is my brother,” Alma said.

  The woman lifted her nose at him. “Even worse if he’s the one who got you with child.”

  “I’m not with child!” Alma shouted. “I just don’t want your husband putting his grubby hands all over me!”

  Errol nodded approvingly. The two maids peeked in from the hallway.

  “I’m docking a week’s wages from your salary for these lies and your insolence,” the lady said. “You may return to work now. Your brother isn’t welcome back.”

  Alma sighed in resignation.

  Errol stood his ground. “My sister isn’t working for you. We might be common folk, but we deserve to be treated with dignity and fairness. I’m going to the magistrate and will be reporting your husband’s conduct.”

  The lady stood, the air around her crackling like twigs snapping in a windstorm. Some of her hair had become unbound from the shape of a cage, strands sticking out like jagged wires. The birds perched within the confines fluttered uneasily. Their music turned discordant.

  The lady lifted up her nose at him. “Who do you think the magistrate will believe? Royalty or some common trollop… and a cavalryman?”

  Errol wasn’t in the cavalry, but he didn’t correct her on that note. “My sister is not a trollop. We are—” Errol’s voice cut out. He tried to speak again but found his lips wouldn’t form words.

  The lady held up her hand, magic tingling in the air between them. She was more adept at using magic than he’d given her credit for.

  “You will not report these lies, and I will tell you why.” The woman held her head high. “If you do, I will see to it that your sister never finds work in a reputable house again. By the time I am done telling everyone I know what an insufferable trollop she is, the only place that will employ her will be the brothels where she belongs. As for you …” She looked his uniform up and down with disdain. “Don’t think that your employment will keep you safe. My husband knows men in high places. He’ll find a way to have you discharged.” A smirk laced her lips.

  Alma sniffled. “I told you it was a bad idea telling the mistress.”

  He reached for her, but she ran out of the room.

  When he looked back at the lady of the house, more of her hair had gone astray. One of the birds was impaled on a silver spike that had once been part of its cage. Crimson dripped down the side of the Fae lady’s face. The other bird fluttered around the dead one frantically.

  The mistress didn’t notice.

  Errol set after his sister. The two maids in the hallway gave him disapproving looks and clucked their tongues at him. He followed the sound of her footsteps in the hallway, up a set of stairs, and to her room. It was tiny, not much larger than a closet, but she apparently shared it with two others by the looks of the beds crammed into the windowless compartment. Alma had flung herself onto her bed, sobbing.

  Errol sat down beside her. “I know you’re vexed with me for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I just can’t stand to see you suffer. The way these posh folks treat you isn’t right. I want to help you find a place that will treat you better. You need a fair and just master and mistress.” He patted her back.

  She wiped her eyes and rose. “The world isn’t fair and just.” She slid a trunk out from under the bed. “Was it just that an evil harpy killed Captain Arnfinnr during battle or that Sarah turned me out and kept all those wages she’d supposedly been keeping safe for you? Is it fair this is the second job I’ve been fired from because the masters are lecherous deviants?”

  “We wouldn’t stand for this discrimination or treatment in the navy.” He said it, but he knew it was a lie. All one had to be was Witchkin in order to be treated poorly.

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, this isn’t the navy. Unless you’re going to find me a job as a maid on board, I suggest you help me look for a new job.”

  “Splendid idea,” Errol said. “I’ll bring you with me.”

  This time, not as a stowaway. He’d learned that lesson already.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Third Time Is a Charm

  Girls were not permitted on the ship.

  Errol brought Alma on board openly, making no attempt to glamour her invisible, not that he was adept at magical illusions yet, anyway. He’d instructed Alma to dress in a spare pair of his off-duty clothes as a boy. He wanted her to cut her hair short like a boy’s, but she refused.

  “I’ll tuck it under a cap,” she said.

  That would only work temporarily. She’d have to cut her hair short if she got the job. All cabin boys were made to cut their hair upon hire in case they had lice.

  Errol took Alma up to the captain directly. He didn’t look forward to this part. The captain had never liked him and always gave him extra work if he happened to cross his path. He didn’t know how the captain would take being interrupted in his cabin.

&nbs
p; Captain Manchester was a stern man with kelp growing in his long hair. With the thick beard, earring, and constant scowl, he resembled what Errol imagined a pirate would look like more than an officer in His Majesty’s navy. The old seadog sat on a barrel, stooped over three maps sprawled across the table. Each map was in a different language, but illustrated ships at the edge of one map sailed into the next where the papers overlapped.

  “Pardon me, Captain. This is my brother, Alm,” Errol said by way of introduction. “I would like you to consider him as a new recruit as a cabin boy.”

  Captain Manchester crossed his arms, squinting at Alma. “Your brother, eh?”

  “He’s a hard worker,” Errol said. “Our father died, and my wages aren’t enough to take care of him. He needs a job.”

  The captain cuffed Errol on the back of the head and swiped the cap off Alma in one motion. Her dark blonde hair tumbled out.

  The captain scowled. “Do you truly believe your captain to be so daft?”

  Errol edged back. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “I told you it wouldn’t work.” Alma nudged him in the ribs.

  Errol nudged her back. “I told you we should have cut your hair.”

  She punched him in the shoulder.

  The captain snorted. “The least you could have done was bind her bosom like the other lasses do who try to sneak into the navy.” He threw her cap to the ground.

  Alma glanced down at her chest. She was slender enough to pass for a boy. Mostly.

  “Oh,” Errol said. He hadn’t thought about all her lady parts giving her away.

  Captain Manchester tugged at the seaweed growing in his beard. “And you could have come up with a better story than this was your brother. It isn’t like it’s escaped my attention you’ve got a sister named Alma.”

  Every detail of his failure weighed Errol down further. He couldn’t tell whether the captain was pointing out his every mistake to rub it in or there was some other purpose to this.