Page 107 of Valour

She watched Hester, Snowball and Fliss standing at the shoreline in wait for the Intrepid’s crew. She turned to Arnold. “Do you think they saw where we headed?”

“Who knows,” he said over the howl of the gale. “They weren’t too far behind. Let’s hope so.”

A movement caught Charlotte’s eye. Seals. Delicious, plump seals lying on the shore. She breathed, “Arnold, look. Seals! If that isn’t a good omen, I don’t know what is. It feels like Christmas.”

“I’ll get the rifle. We’ll have seal steaks till we burst.”

Charlotte let him go, and then walked to stand by Hester’s side. The storm-grey seas crashed on the shore.

“They’ll be along any moment, you know,” Charlotte said, buoying her voice with certainty. She looked sidelong at the captain, who had her hand over her chest, tapping her fingers over her heart, her spyglass hanging from the fingers of her other hand. Hester’s face was drawn, but fierce. Fliss began pacing up and down behind them.

“Four hundred and ninety-seven,” Hester murmured.

“What’s that?” Charlotte asked.

“Days at sea. Four hundred and ninety-seven.”

“Gracious. Is it really?”

“Do you think it feels longer, or shorter than that?”

Charlotte considered it, turning the question over. “Shorter.”

Hester’s mouth tugged at the corners. “Same.”

Charlotte tucked an arm around Hester’s waist and pulled her close. “Would you do it again if you knew what would befall us?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Me too.”

Septimus had still not arrived.

Hester raised the spyglass once again to scan the horizon. There was nothing but grey sky and foaming waves. Where was he? She knew he was not dead. Could feel him out there somewhere. But she wished he would hurry up and put her out of this misery.

As soon as she’d stepped foot on land, magic had seeped into Hester’s chest and settled along her bones, like her body was taking its first breath after holding it for too long.

She ground her teeth. Couldn’t let even the smallest scrap of magic go, afraid it would summon Orcus. And if he showed up now, while two boats were still out there…

She shivered, screwing her eyes shut.

Hester bound her magic up tight and kept her gaze fixed on the sea. She felt for the tether to Septimus, a comfort, her fingers tapping at her chest, like she might be able to grasp hold of the invisible rope and tug him ashore.

She began pacing the beach, along the edge of the water, hair blowing in the gale, whipping about her face. Salt stung her tongue, her eyes.

“There!” Winston shouted, pointing out at the waves. And he was right. Thank the Lord, he was right. In amongst the storm-tossed sea, two boats. Hester fell to her knees, crying out, and Fliss landed on top of her, shaking.

“Thank God. Oh, thank God,” Fliss moaned, grabbing Hester’s face. “They made it.”

Hester kissed Fliss’s cheeks all over and sagged. She would kill him for making her wait. Laughter bubbled in her throat, quietly at first, and then louder, wilder. “They made it. Everyone made it.”

Flanked by the rest of her crew, Hester ran into the waves to catch the Death and the Misfortune as they scudded up the beach. She barely noticed the biting cold.

Septimus jumped from the boat, the sea sucking around his knees, and strode towards her. Her lips cracked anew as he thrust his hands under her ass and hauled her against him. She wrapped her legs around his middle, crashing her mouth into his, running her fingers through his hair. God, the taste of him. Disgustingly salty, but also familiar. He was here. Alive.

“You had me worried,” Hester said, her lips brushing against his. Worried was an understatement.

“I felt you, always.” His voice was hoarse. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling her, crushing her against him, and then he was carrying her, her legs still wrapped around him, out of the waves, across the beach, and behind a series of larger rocks where they couldn’t be seen.