Cassian’s boots echoed on the wooden planks as he moved towards the busy town of Port Victoria. His rigid posture struck a stark contrast with his pained expression. He struggled to keep his gaze pointed straight ahead. 

By gods, she looks ridiculous! Laughter escaped before he could stop it, and a hand reached out to smack his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, love. But you look like an overstuffed sausage.” He put his hands up to soothe his wife. 

She shot him a glare, adopting the air of an angry tomato in the burgundy, puffy, layered, lacy dress she wore to help hide her identity in case Lucian’s men were searching. He knew she preferred the practicality of trousers and shirts. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” she huffed as they walked into the busy town that stretched from the docks.  

He gave her a boyish grin and reached for her hand. And he tried not to let it bother him when she didn’t take it. 

“Ah, admit it. You’re quite pleasing with your appearance in that dress, darlin’,” he smirked. Marina continued to huff as they walked. He frowned. Something was wrong. 

“Love?” Sincerity replaced his easy swagger. “Come on, darling.”  

Marina just sped up and positioned herself ahead of him. 

Shit! I screwed up. I thought she was okay with the plan. He quickened his pace to catch up. 

“Marina, stop. Talk to me.” He stepped in front of her. With gentle yet firm hands, he made her look at him. Emerald eyes melted into honey as his voice whispered with the slight breeze. “Marina, please.” Don’t shut me out now. 

“Fine. Just answer me this. Why the dress, when you know what it means to me? Why couldn’t I just wear my normal trousers and shirts with something else to hide my face?” Her sharp tone made him wince. 

“I…I didn’t think of that?” He sighed. He was a fool for missing that angle of the plan. His silence bothered him more than he cared to admit. 

“Figures.” Her tone implied her resignation to the costume, and she didn’t press further.  

Cassian took this opportunity to bring up the unspoken topic between them. “Let’s discuss this.” He pitched his voice toward a gentleness he kept solely for her. His calloused thumb brushed against the gold band on her finger. Her chest heaved at the contact, but he kept his smile to himself. 

“Suppose we should,” Marina sighed. “I love you. I know that much for sure.” 

“And I love you. I must admit something. I wasn’t expecting my father to bring up the Code like this, but I—”  

A delighted squeal cut him off, and a plump figure in pastel pink attached herself to his free arm. 

“OOOh, Cass, sweetheart! I knew you would return,” the piggish figure fussed. Her mousy brown hair flopped with matching ribbons. 

“Not now. I’ve told you: I am not your lover.” Cassian tried to pry her off.  

Marina stepped aside, an eyebrow raised at the insanity. 

“Abigail, meet my wife,” he said, pulling Marina close. The girl pouted. 

“Wife? But sweetie, you said that you’d call on me!” she sniveled.  

Cassian tried to make her understand. “I said I might. I didn’t promise you anything; you’re a wench.”  

Abigail examined Marina with the upturned distaste of someone appraising furniture. “You can do better than her. I would take care of you,” she huffed at him. Cassian looked horrified at the thought. 

“There’s no need.” Cassian pried her fingers away gently, but Abigail would have none of it.  

Fat tears rolled down her powdered cheeks, and she begged with tiny whimpers, but Cassian’s heart was with Marina. 

“Forgive me, love,” he said, confining his gaze to her alone. “This person is obsessed with her own fantasy.”  

Abigail covered her face and ran off sobbing. He hoped Marina would understand the firm rebuke. 

For a moment, she wouldn’t return his stare. “Forgive—“  

A whirlwind of yellow with flashing blue eyes and dirty blonde hair descended upon them and cut her reply short. A gangly hand with intense crimson painted claws slapped Cassian so hard that it echoed. 

“CASSIAN, YOU DOG! I HOPE PLUTO TAKES YOU!”  

“Ow.” Cassian rubbed his scarlet cheek. “Trixie. Pleasure as always.” 

With a hand on her hip, ignoring his smile, Trixie’s nose turned up at Marina if she smelled something that belonged in a stable. “Rich of you to bring your whore!”  

Cassian stepped forward to send her off. “She’s my wife, not my whore,” he stated firmly. Trixie shrieked. 

“Wife! Never ask for me again, you mangy mutt.” She slapped his other cheek and stormed off. 

“That one, I might have deserved.” He shook his head, but refused to acknowledge his stinging face. 

Marina smirked as she took his hand. “Perhaps. It seems you’ve had a preference for the mad ones.” Cassian gave a gentle squeeze, thankful for the peace offering. 

“Maybe we should just go find the map?” he suggested sheepishly.  

Marina nodded and waved the way ahead. 

“I promise. No more wenches. I am yours. If you’ll have me?” he asked hopefully. There’s no one I’d rather have. 

Marina took a moment, then kissed his cheek. Cassian wondered what was in her mind but knew better than to press.  They had the time to talk about this. 

Hands entwined, they took the widening side streets toward the center of town. People burst out the doorways of brick and thatched-roof houses. Even though it was morning, drunken pirates from various places chased after wenches. Vendors pushed carts of wares, and children ran wild through the streets. 

Cassian steered them towards a row of shops with everything from otherworldly oddities to potions and amulets promising protection from untold dangers that lurked in the ocean. He pointed to an unassuming storefront, nestled quietly between two gaudy displays. “This is a good place to check first.” 

They entered the shop to a flood of books spilling off bookshelves, and rolls of parchment maps stuffed into decorative vases. As they searched for a path to the interior, an older gentleman dressed in vividly dyed oranges, red, and purples with bright white hair and beard stepped into view. 

“Welcome to the Gateway. How can I help you?” He asked in an accent from the northern region of Albion, where the druids read plants the way a pirate consulted the sea. 

“We’re looking for a map to Neptune’s Palace,” Cassian said. The ancient man’s blue eyes flashed, and Cassian brushed his fingers against his sword in anticipation.  A heavy moment passed while dust thickened the air. 

“’Tis a dangerous place. Mysterious and often best left alone.” Warning choked his words. 

“My crew can handle it,” Cassian asserted.  

The shopkeep regarded Cassian with a hard expression. Cassian stood taller, as if to say, “Try me.” Then with a shrug, he disappeared behind a tapestry decorated with Jupiter and Juno.  

The tribal masks peeking out across the walls gave the feeling they were being watched. They seemed to track their every footstep in a way that left Cassian uneasy. 

While they waited, Marina stumbled around, taking in the maps and tapestries. A skull with wax dripping out of it perched eerily in a corner, and a skeletal hand held a gold-edged scroll on a high shelf. He ran a finger through his braided hair as he prepared to bring up the tension between them. 

“Sweetheart, we should talk. I would have wedded you with or without the Code.” He hoped she’d understand that he would have kept his promise to her in a letter from years ago. 

“I know. It’s just…” She turned to look at him.  

The shopkeep returned with a tube made of leather. Placing it on a desk, he opened the top and rolled out the map. 

Cassian examined it closely, noting the smell of newly drawn ink. His voice dripped with suspicion. “Are you sure this is it?” 

The other man looked affronted. “It is. Are you doubting my word, sir?” He shot Cassian an accusing glare and started to put the parchment away. “Take the map or don’t.” 

“Cassian, just get it., Marina whispered.  

He tuddied her face, confused by what she could mean, but only saw her intense gaze on the map. Something about her tone made him trust her. 

“It’ll be ten gold pieces. Not negotiable.” The wizened shopkeep demanded before he rolled it up again and placed it in the leather case. 

“Ten gold.” Cassian placed the coins on the counter and took the map. The man disappeared behind the tapestry, followed by the sound of clinking money. 

****  

Two hours later, Captain Aquilla guided the Neptune’s Revenge out to open waters. Marina had finished unpacking her new clothes and changed out of the burgundy dress into a more practical outfit. 

Maybe I’m just paranoid because Lucian’s out there, but I swore I saw someone following us after the map shop. She jumped when the cabin door opened and revealed Cassian. 

“We’re wanted in the captain’s cabin,” he said, motioning for her to follow. Marina hadn’t realized they had entered the cabin until he’d nudged her. 

“Oh, sorry!” She shrugged as she took in the map spread out on the desk.  

Cassian and his father discussed routes and possibilities of how far from Neptune’s Palace the treasure could be. “We could go northeast from Neptune’s Palace.” Captain Aquilla traced the route off the island. 

“Or follow the currents to the east,” Cassian argued. “More logical to be here. There are caves and a natural bay.” 

As his fingers danced to highlight the features, faint teal marks appeared, and she could feel something warm radiating off the map. Somehow, deep within her, she felt a pulse, as if they were alive. 

What the hell? Surely, they can see what’s going on! Marina glanced at Cassian and Captain Aquilla, still locked in discussion, unaware of anything different on the map. She inched closer and blinked to make the lines vanish. 

The magic did disappear as she wished. She tried to focus anywhere else. 

Maybe I’m just a little sick. Have I eaten enough fruit? Perhaps that noon meal in the tavern was off.  

She failed to convince herself. The map called out to her again, and she couldn’t resist. This time, a small island off the northeast coast of Neptune’s Palace appeared. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she tore herself away, unable to embrace the sensation of the blood singing in her veins. 

Captain Aquilla’s voice dragged her into the present. “As I was saying, we’re setting course for Neptune’s Palace. We’ll dock here in this town and confirm our next heading.”  

“Aye, Captain. A solid course,” Cassian agreed. 

Marina tried to control her expression. 

“Dismissed to duties,” Captain Aquilla ordered.  

She went ahead of Cassian, glad to be away from the eerie map. I’m not going to say a word. Cassian will fuss and think I’m sick. Captain Aquilla might suspect I’m cursed. I can’t risk anything. By the Fates, nothing will come of this. 

Grateful for a distraction, she threw herself into swabbing the deck. Cassian went to the helm to take his shift. It’s just residual magic left over from Lucian, she hoped against hope.  

Editor: Shannon Hensley