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They sat beside her and Raya and even Fortune on occasion and watched them chew, savoring the mortal’s meals vicariously. It seemed to satisfy them somehow, but never for long. Before her own stomach growled each afternoon, the three were often chasing her back to the kitchen and handing her frying pans.

She was sure she knew who, or rather what the trio were by the end of the first week. They were most certainly the Morai, daughters of Nyx, the Night. Some called them the Fates. Clotho the spinner was most like Zara. Lachesis, the planner, was Asha. And Nell with her sword and propensity for cutting could be none other than Atropos.

Amrita kept the revelation to herself. This was such old magic, the kind most folk weren’t comfortable speaking aloud, and certainly not on a stranger’s ship. That one should fear the Fates that had been drilled into her since early childhood. It wasn’t a difficult task to convince children to be afraid of the Morai, especially since they were undead.

But once she got to know Zara, Nell and Asha, she was pleasantly surprised to find she liked them. They had a great deal more personality than she might have expected, both individually and as a unit. They were constantly cracking her up with their antics, which provided a welcome respite from her worries. How long was she to stay here? And at what point would she attempt to escape? Sooner or later she was going to write that note. Sooner or later The Tufan was going to sink. She knew it from the museum exhibit. From the wreckage inventory that included a note, written in her own hand.

The Fates themselves didn’t make Amrita uneasy. It was the fact that they were here, in this timeline and aboard the ship with her, that was so unsettling. Why here, why now? She didn’t quite understand why they were bound to this storm-surrounded, pirate vessel in the middle of the Mediterranean.

That was a question for later, she supposed, when she had more of the picture to consider. Time would tell. And time was the one thing she had luxurious swathes of, here in the past. Long hours, and whole days to think and sleep and ponder. She had no idea where Raya was taking them next. But wherever it was, she could tell the pirate was not in any hurry to get there.

One of the first things Amrita noticed about Raya Tufan was that he read constantly. He brought texts to every meal and read while he stood with Asha at the wheel. He read while The Tufan floated in still water and when it retreated to its tranquil bubble, floating unharmed, though the seas that surrounded the ship were bubbling and rolling like water in a kettle.

Amrita could identify five different languages that Raya seemed comfortable reading.

By the second week at sea, Amrita couldn’t help herself. She was bored, and she hadn’t spoken out loud to anyone other than Fortune in almost twenty-four hours.

“What are you reading?” she asked Raya, about the text in his well-groomed hand.

Raya glanced up with some effort. His mind was clearly elsewhere, and it took him a moment to reel it in and tether her words to her and her question. He considered her carefully before answering. He still seemed a little suspicious of her, but he answered nonetheless.

“It’s a philosophical text I rescued from a Greek ship,” he said. “Much older than it looks.”

“May I?” Amrita held out a hand.

There was another pause, shorter this time. He raised a brow and studied her with renewed interest before passing it over.

“You read Greek?” he asked. “You are a most interesting woman. Smart as well as beautiful.”

“I do.” Amrita bit her cheek in an attempt not to smile at his blatant flirting. “And I am. Smart, that is…”

“Smart, beautiful and a great cook too. I’m more curious than ever about this ‘society’ of yours.” Raya leaned in closer.

She read a page, turned back, read two more. “Interesting. The way the author frames the argument as a forgone conclusion is…” She paused. “Very persuasive. I have the feeling it’s been revised to suit the sensibilities of a targeted audience.”

Raya took the sheaf back and looked at it. “Which audience?”

“Scholars who want credit for enlightening the world. Clever men. But…” Amrita shrugged. “Not necessarily the best and the brightest.”

Raya’s expression shifted. His lips twitched. He looked at her like he was recalculating a bill, then reached into his bag and pulled out another scroll. He tossed it to her. It was a collection of poetry.

“Let me know what you make of this.”

After that they both sat quietly reading together for a long while. Occasionally they talked, sharing a passage or a thought. Their conversations were halting at first. But soon they came more easily. They asked each other questions about what they were reading and after they finished a hasty lunch, they traded texts.

Amrita felt she was getting to know Raya through the things they were discussing. She learned that they were closer in age than she’d thought at first. Raya was in his late forties. And she learned that Raya had no patience for politics and fools. She was bold enough to ask him if he had any siblings, and learned that the pirate, like her, was an only child.

He could sew but didn’t know how to knit. When she showed him and the Fates a new way to quickly make large nets for catching small fish using wooden dowels and string, he was so delighted he gave her a hug and twirled her around the deck like it was a ballroom. They played backgammon and made up ridiculous stories. One afternoon when it was too rainy to spend their time on deck, Raya set up a puppet show in the galley.

One morning he handed her his hairbrush and asked if she’d mind braiding his hair.

His hair was soft and smelled of the ocean and precious oils from the urns below deck. Amrita brushed it till it shone, while Raya leaned back in his chair and sighed blissfully.

“I cannot recall the last time anyone touched me so tenderly.” He sighed again.

She gathered the thick mass to one side and began to braid. It was impossible to miss the goosebumps that rose as her fingers brushed his neck. They were contagious, spreading all over her body. She had to resist the urge to lean forward and inhale the warm scent of his hair and skin. The oils settled onto her hands, and when she ran them through her own hair, transferred. She could still smell him hours later, which led to her teasing him that he was rubbing off on her.

Of all the surprises of her first days at sea, her time with the pirate was the most pleasantly surprising. The last thing she had expected Raya Tufan to be was such good company.