I ducked under the low timbers and noticed Father lying in a berth, passed out with vomit on his chin. I love him, but how can he rule if he is drunk so often? Am I wrong to think that I am the most capable royal aboard this ship? Another guard threw a cover over Father’s head so he would appear to be just one of our drunk sailors, while Puzo tucked me inside a hot little closet filled with coiled ropes. It was horrid. I strained to hear what was happening on deck above and wished I had my hourglass to see how much time was passing. Finally a thump against our hull told me the other boat had caught up to ours and was tying on. I waited, expecting sounds of fighting, but instead heard the low murmur of men talking. I unlatched the door to my closet and crept out. A fresh breeze flowed down the stairway, along with it a voice I recognized. Olympus! The boat’s rocking made it impossible for me to run up the steps, so I clung to the railing and pulled myself up.
