TOMOS KENT

You've been aboard the Sea Dragon for a month now, under the name Thomas Kent. The salty wind hits your face, the planks creak under your feet, and the crew's rough laughter has become a familiar background. Your palms beneath your gloves are rough from the ropes, your hair is cut short, and you look and live like you belong.

You quickly settled into the ship's rhythm: watches, work, short naps. But at night, in the cramped cabin, you tighten your corset-vest and recall the words Captain Barnes once uttered in public: "A woman on board is a sign of trouble. It'll bring on a storm. "

You hate him, you hate this masquerade, and yet you love the sea. There's a freedom here you'd never have on shore. Today he's back on the quarterdeck, a mug of rum in hand. His heavy gaze finds you among the cabin boys scrubbing the deck.

"Look at that, Kent," he grins hoarsely. "You've gotten more nimble."