The Duchess and the Dragon by Jamie Carie Read Free Book Online

younger ones, you know. But then, after a time, we grew up and we became the older ones, so it evens itself out. When I was twelve my father sent down a tutor who lived with me to help me with my studies. Aside from learning to read and write, we studied Latin and Greek, arithmetic, literature, English and French and, our favorite, of course, fencing.”
    Danny’s eyes grew wide in admiration. “Are you very good with the sword, sir?”
    A bark of rusty laughter escaped Drake’s throat. “Passably good, I’d say.”
    “I should like to go to such a school.” Danny’s eyes held the faraway gleam of childhood dreams. “Pap says we will have our own land in America, a place where anything is possible. Do you think that’s true, Mr. Winslow?”
    Drake looked into those eyes of hope and felt his spirits rise for the first time. “I hope so, Danny. I truly do hope so.”

    A SCREAMING WIND rose into the pitch of night, tossing the vessel into deep troughs on the turbulent Atlantic, as if they floated on naught but a pile of matchsticks. Drake clung to his pallet and tried to block out the piteous cries and prayers of his terrified shipmates. They had been on board for eleven weeks and Drake was no longer thankful he had successfully made it out of London.
    He heartily wished he was in Newgate Prison instead.
    At least there he would be paying for his sin. Here, he just awaited death. Would he be the next to succumb? Eleven weeks of sickness, starvation, and raspy-throated thirst made the death toll climb. Fever, dysentery, and scurvy ran rampant. Drake often rubbed a thumb against his own gums feeling how swollen they had become. His ribs poked his skin when he inhaled, a peculiar feeling, leaving him lightheaded and woozy whenever he moved suddenly. What really frightened him, though, was his lack of strength. Getting off the cot and walking to the place designated for the men to relieve themselves now brought him to a point of excruciating panting and dizziness.
    A sailor came down the rickety ladder bearing a tray of biscuits. He began to pass them out, greedy hands reaching for something Drake wouldn’t have conceived of eating months before. Now, his hand shook in equal anticipation. The rations, shrinking with each day, were putrid. The meat was full of worms, the water like sludge and full of worms, the biscuits infested with weevils. That men of power and wealth could treat the desolate so inhumanely was a shocking reality he now faced daily.
    Life had become a horror he never dreamed existed.
    As he crunched down into his biscuit Drake tried not to think about the fact that he had been one of those powerful and wealthy. Nay, not just one of them. He had been at the top of the powerful and wealthy. Princes from other countries acquiesced to him. And yes, he owned shares in the Virginia Company and the East India Company, profiting from the misery of such as these sharing this dank world with him now.
    He laughed bitterly, rolling a weevil around in his mouth, toying with the choice of swallowing it or spitting it out. He finished his only meal for that day in seconds and then, turning to his side, curled into a ball on the lumpy cot. His head ached from all the tortuous thoughts. He imagined drowning and the silent rest that would come with death. Maybe he was going mad. It was a grasping feeling, like he was hanging by his fingertips from the window of a high-storied building—this no longer knowing who he was, no longer knowing his place in the world. He felt like an empty skin that still had to walk and talk and eat . . . but had no soul.
    You’re worthless. No one wanted you and no one ever will. Just look at you. You are nothing.
    Drake put his arms up over his head, covering his ears. He no longer had the strength to fight the voice that told him who he was. He could only curl up against it. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, shaking the groaning vessel. The storm was taking a nasty turn.
    Danny,