Free Mechanical Hearts (Skeleton Key) by Nicole Blanchard, Skeleton Key Page B

tears that clogged my chest and threatened to spill.
    The heart was valuable, even I knew that. Someone must have known what we were after. But that didn’t make sense. Why would they attack us if we were … And then the drowsiness gave way to shock and I sat straight up.
    They were after the whale, too, and they’d attempted to kill us in order to beat us to it.
    And took away the one chance I had to go home.
    I forced that thought away and focused on feeding the fire. I simply couldn’t comprehend the possibility that I wouldn’t get back to Phoebe, so I pushed it from my mind. If it took years, I’d find a way.
    A branch snapped, and I jerked up to find Ezra emerging from the dense overgrown trees. He cradled a bunch of unrecognizable plants in his arms. At that point, I didn’t care what I ate so long as it would fill my belly.
    He set the food down between us, and I recognized some sort of potato and maybe a carrot of some kind.
    Without asking him, I filled a pot I’d gotten from the dilapidated farmhouse with water from one of the canisters we’d taken from the pod. He started peeling the potatoes, and I took an extra knife and diced the carrots. They looked like regular carrots except they were shorter and fatter, squat little things. I mentally shrugged. Who cared what they looked like as long as they were edible? When I was done, I tossed them in the pot of water along with the cleaned potatoes and set it in the glowing coals to cook.
    Once that was taken care of, I looked over to find Ezra canting to the side, his eyes drooping. “Oh, no you don’t,” I said as I jumped to my feet and raced to his side. “We’ve got to get some food in you.”
    Ezra scowled, and for some reason, it made me smile down at him. “I’m fine ,” he said.
    I adjusted his uncharacteristically pliant body and ignored his thunderous expression until his head was resting in my lap. “You should rest. You don’t want to aggravate that head wound.”
    “I won’t be babied,” he said.
    “Good,” I retorted. “I’m not your mother, but you did appoint me as the healer on your ship and you’ll listen or I’ll—”
    “Or you’ll what?” he interrupted. Even from his reclined position, he emanated raw masculinity with confident ease. Something that, around other men, would have made me nervous, but from him, only served to make me want to challenge him. Ruffle his feathers. “Well?”
    “Hush,” I said, and he shocked us both by complying. As the potato and carrot mixture simmered in the pot beside us, I used a slight amount of water from the canisters to clean the bloody gash on his head. “You’re lucky this didn’t do more than knock you out.”
    “My mother will be lucky to hear my hard head was good for something aside from causing her endless irritation.”
    “Hold still for a second,” I said. Really, he needed stitches, but with no medical kit, the best I could do was clean it with water and wrap it in a relatively clean strip of cloth I tore from my damp shirt. “That’ll do for now, but you’re going to need to take it easy. Though, I’m guessing you’re going to fight me on that.”
    “Since it currently feels like the cogs in my head have gone rusty, I’m going to take your advice. For now.” He peered at me with one bloodshot eye. “But don’t get used to it.”
    “I wouldn’t dare,” I said as I tried and failed to hide my smile.
    I stirred the pot and tried not to whimper at the smell wafting from it. “How did you manage to become a pirate?” I asked to distract myself from gobbling it all down raw.
    His scowl deepened. “I’m not a pirate. I’m a captain.”
    “Fine, then. How did you become a captain? Your father?” I guessed.
    “Hell, no,” he said. “My father owned a shop that sold automata.”
    “Automata?”
    “Trinkets, like Tink, but not quite as large. He was an inventor of sorts. His creations were mostly for household purposes. Like the coffee-maker on the