The Duchess and the Dragon by Jamie Carie

Hold on for a few more hours, my friend.”
    Drake struggled to stand upright, and Daniel helped him back to his cot. Another day, Daniel promised—just one more day.
    Pray God he survived that long.

Chapter Five
    PHILADELPHIA
    Serena Winter stood at the bottom of the ladder in the dark hold, blinking, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light and for her sense of balance to return in accord with the rocking motion of the ship. Mary Ann, younger by two years, stood just behind her. “Are there many?”
    “I do not know yet. I cannot see a thing.” Moving a couple of hesitant steps forward she shifted the heavy basket on her arm. “I will take this side and thee can go over there.”
    “All right.” Mary Ann giggled. “Watch thy step, sister. Remember the last time we played nurse. Thy shoes were nearly ruined.”
    Serena remembered. All too well. She grimaced and nodded at her sister. This was their sixth time playing nurse, as Mary Ann liked to call it. When a ship of indentured servants arrived in the Philadelphia harbor and there were known sick on board, the Society of Friends was quick to respond. The older girls of local families had all been trained in rudimentary nursing and they rotated shifts to help the needy. Sometimes they went to the poorhouse or homes of the elderly, but Serena had a special place in her heart for the indentured. There was a woeful faith about them that made her want to help them succeed. She knew they came out of desperation with the hope that after their term of indenture was over they would be able to make a good life for themselves in this wild, new world. But the journey and their treatment often left them too weak to even care that they had finally made it. As Serena nursed them back to health, she also cared for their dreams, praying for them, hoping for them, encouraging body and soul back to health.
    Picking her way carefully between the bare cots, Serena looked for someone in need of care. Most of the indentured were up on deck waiting to be allowed to go ashore. Many had called out for water and food as she and Mary Ann passed by, but Serena ignored them. Those too sick to leave their cots down in the hold were most in need of the meager provisions she and Mary Ann had brought with them. It was hard to ignore anyone, especially the thin, filthy children, but worse was the knowledge that oftentimes these poor people had to wait days or even weeks until all the advertising and sales were completed and they could go to their new homes, unless the soul-drivers came—and God help them if that happened.
    A groan drew her attention. Serena turned, and there, in a shaft of the dim light cast from a porthole, slept a man. Serena picked her way toward the cot and leaned over him.
    Her breath caught in her chest. His longish, dark hair was lank, and a dark beard covered most of his face. Even so, he was striking—beautiful really—hollow cheeks and all. A sudden thought rose to her consciousness: God took special care when He fashioned this man. He was thin and weakened from his journey, sick and flushed with fever, but something about him radiated greatness and strength. A strange sensation overtook her, making her want to reach out to him. She watched, detached from conscious movement, as her hand, small and pale, did just that. Her palm gently cupped his cheek, stroking up to his forehead, and found it burning hot. With the backs of her fingers, she smoothed his hot temple and brushed back a lock of dark hair.
    Suddenly fingers as strong and tight as a manacle grasped her wrist. She reared back, about to cry out, when he mumbled incoherent words and released her. Taking a shaky breath, Serena stared. Was he delirious with fever, then? She had heard of it happening but had not seen it. She reached into her basket and brought out a cool, damp cloth, which she laid on his forehead. Taking a water bottle, she uncorked it with a soft pop and poured cool water into a tin cup.