At this distance, the city was a smudge on the horizon. A grey silhouette on a green sea. It would be another few hours before we reached the customs perimeter and then a few hours more before we could dock. By that time, the dockyard would be quieting as crew brushed their hands of the cargo they had unloaded, bent-backed and sweaty under the glare of the afternoon sun, and dispersed into the tributaries of streets to find a bent-backed tavern to drink and gamble the night away. Ships already tied down would creak like old ladies in the gentle current of the harbor and The Siren's Wail would slip silent as a wraith into port.

Captain Brune preferred to dock at night. A retired smuggler's habit I suppose, though the cargo he transported now was perfectly legitimate.

We had docked in dozens of ports in dozens of cities over the last seven years, but never this one. The only one I cared about.

Already my blood was singing the way it did before a fight or a kiss, though I could not yet see individual buildings. But if I closed my eyes, I could picture them exactly. The red brick watch tower with its black turret, the great brazier flickering at its heart, casting the passing guards as nothing more than shadows. The squat customs building next to it; the old, stocky official glaring out his little window as he checked traveling papers and claims documents, wrinkling his nose from the smell of the fish market several yards down the street where fisherman and customers haggled over the day's catch. A dilapidated tavern crusted with salt and seaweed that catered to crew and captains who did not have the time to venture further into the city to find better fare. And overlooking all of that, on the high hill that cast the city in shadow each morning as the sun rose behind it, the three estate houses of the city's governing families.

I imagined it looking the same as it did seven years ago when I was placed on this ship by a soldier, with nothing more than the clothes on my back and a slip of signed parchment in my hand to present to the captain, tears running down my face as I watched the only place I could ever call home fade behind me. I hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye.

I gripped the rails with my callused hands and leaned into the salt air, willing the ship to go faster. Will she have waited for me like she promised? I wondered. Seven years was a long time. But we had both understood the power of promises. The date wasn't exact, of course. We were a couple of weeks past our expected return due to some bad storms in the Southern Sea. I didn't expect her to be waiting at the docks. What is it you do expect? I asked myself.

"Is the city's song stronger than that of the sea?" asked Captain Brune as he came to stand beside me.

"The song of home is stronger than anything," I replied, returning my weight to my heels.

He squinted at me, sea-weathered skin folding around his dark blue eyes and nearly burying them beneath huge, bushy black brows. His brows were as wild as his beard was neat and his thick hair was plaited between his shoulders to keep it from the hungry fingers of the wind.

"I think you're confusing the song of home with the song of love," he said.

"They are one and the same," I countered.

Brune tipped his hat to me in concession.

"I'm pleased for ya," he added. "Though I'll be sorry to see you go. I admit, you have surprised me these last few years."

I grinned and spread my arms wide, so my long sleeves caught the breeze and ballooned around my wrists. "I have many surprises up my sleeves. Some I am still discovering myself."

"Aye, be careful what you do with that discovering. That's what landed you on my ship in the first place."

My grin faded and my arms lowered like a bird who realized it couldn't fly. "I won't be making that mistake again."

"Bit more than just a mistake, Fayore."

I waved his words away. "Semantics," I said.

"Laws," he countered. I gave him a mock bow.

"It'll be some time before we reach the city. Come have a drink with me. For old time's sake."

I looked toward the horizon once more; the city seemed just as far as it ever did. "An hour won't make a difference one way or the other," said Brune.

"Very well. I expect a better vintage this time though. Consider it a parting gift."

Brune grunted. "Watch your cheek. It's just as likely to get you into trouble."

He missed my eye roll as he turned on his heel, boots thudding on the deck as he walked away. I followed him down the stairs to his quarters, glancing around the cabin as this was likely to be the last time I would see it. It was modest for a captain who did as well as he; gas lamps burned in sconces, one on three of the four walls, casting warm light on the roughly hewn dining table that could seat up to six men, depending on how broad they were. A basket of seeded bread sat atop the table along with a bowl of polished fruit and a pitcher of water. A hand-painted map on a huge canvas took up the fourth wall. My gaze picked out the city we were headed to, the only major development on an island a hundred leagues off the closest shore of the Province. A cluster of smaller islands trailed off of it, as though it had wandered away from the mainland and left a trail of bread crumbs in case it ever wanted to return.

If only I could've left my own bread crumbs, I would've returned much sooner.

Brune walked up to his liquor cabinet and peered inside. "Red?" he asked.

"Please," I said.

He selected a bottle from the top shelf and thumbed the dust from it. A smile tugged up the side of his mouth and he turned back to me with a flourish and bow as he held out the wine.

It was a blend that had been made here from the grapes that grew on the wild, unsettled side of the island, seven years ago. I grinned though it made my teeth ache. "How fitting," I managed.

He pulled out two glasses and gave us each a healthy pour. Our glasses clinked and I took a measured swallow. It was pleasant, full of body with a spicy finish. I wonder if it boded well for my return to the city.

Being on a ship so long has made you superstitious.

Brune smacked his lips. "So, what is the first thing you'll do after setting your feet upon that shore?" he asked.

"Kiss the shore," I said with a smirk. I took another sip to gather my thoughts and then shrugged. "I suppose I'll go looking for her."

"Francesca?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I always called her Franc."

"City's not all that big. Shouldn't be too hard to track her down."

I said nothing and took another sip. Franc and I knew firsthand how big the city was. All the places you could hide, all the places you could get lost, how easy it was to disappear. Like smoke in the wind.

"Seven years is a long time," I said. Then, before he could reply, I added, "I guess I'll have to find a job as well. I can only afford so many nights at an inn on the paltry salary you pay us."

Brune pantomimed offense. "You're lucky I pay you at all, blueblood. You aren't legally a part of the crew after all."

I held Brune's gaze over the rim of my cup as I took another swallow. I let the wine sit on my tongue and then swallowed, my throat tingling with the spices. "Don't call me that."

It was true he wasn't supposed to pay me. Though I did all the duties of a real deckhand, I was a prisoner serving a sentence, and therefore not entitled to wages. When Brune first offered to start paying me, about two years into my sentence, I was skeptical. He was much kinder than I had any reason to expect given that he was my warden as well as captain, but he had taken a liking to me early on and made sure the brawny, rough-tongued sailors of his crew didn't touch me with anything more than their words. Legally, they weren't allowed to anyway, but once at sea, a captain is judge and jury on his own ship. He could've looked the other way, let me fend for myself, but he didn't. My pay was pittance compared to the salary the other crewmen made, a few copper pieces each week, but after years of storing it beneath a loose floorboard under my bed, I had a meager savings that would let me survive more or less comfortably for a few weeks in the city. But it didn't mean he could call me false names.

"Aye, people on the island will call you that and worse if they find out who you are."

"I don't plan on them finding out who I am."

"I wouldn't put too much faith in that there plan if I were you," cautioned Brune.

"I've survived this far," I said. Though the words came out more nonchalant than I truly felt.

"Well, if they do call you that, I suggest you do a better job of masking your face. You still have a tell."

I turned from him, so he couldn't see the heat flooding my cheeks. "I have nothing to hide," I said, though I knew turning my back on him negated my point. It's the wine. It's making you slip. Afterall, I had been very good at hiding my emotions during my tenure on the pleasure barges. So good, in fact, that I was beaten for seeming "a cold, emotionless bitch" to some of the customers.

Brune sighed. "I didn't mean to anger you. I just want you to keep your wits about you when you leave the ship. The city may be golden, but there's a lot of fools' gold that looks like the real thing."

"Leave it to a pirate to use a treasure metaphor," I said, trying to lighten up the conversation. This was a going away party after all.

"A smuggler is not a pirate," he said, a thin edge to his voice. I had pressed a nerve.

"Careful," I said with a smirk. "You still have a tell."

Brune held up his hands. "If I haven't been able to teach you to hold your tongue in the past seven years, I certainly won't manage it in the next hour."

"Aye, you were always the softest captain I've ever met. I promise to take the secret to my grave."

Brune rolled his eyes and they were nearly lost among the mantle of his eyebrows. A sharp knock came at the door and the sandy head of the first mate poked through the crack. "Captain? We've nearly reached the perimeter."

"I'll be up in a minute." The first mate disappeared and Brune shrugged on his battered coat. "Finish your wine and then make yourself scarce. You're allowed to return to the city, but no need to announce your presence before it's necessary."

I nodded and he left. Pouring myself another glass of wine, I turned back toward the map and found our destination once more.

I did not know what kind of homecoming awaited me, but it did not matter.

I was home. 

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So, there you have it! Chapter one and our first insight at our main character, Fayore! What d'you think? Any guesses about what she did to get herself banished for 7 years? I'd love to hear any thoughts, so don't be afraid to drop a comment. 

Thanks for reading :)