Daughter of the Romani
The sea had always whispered to Esmeria Lee.
Long before she understood the stories whispered around campfires or the old warnings passed down through generations of Romani women, she had heard its voice. As a child, she would sit upon the cliffs overlooking the coastline and listen to the waves crashing against the rocks below, convinced they were trying to tell her secrets. Her grandmother insisted the gift ran in the bloodline.
Her mother called it imagination. Esmeria had never been entirely certain which explanation she believed.
Standing atop the grassy rise overlooking the ocean, she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and stared out across the endless expanse of water. The late afternoon sun painted the sea in shades of molten gold, its light dancing across the rolling waves. It should have been beautiful. It should have brought her the same peace it always has.
Instead, unease settled heavily in her chest.
The wind swept through her dark curls, carrying with it the familiar scent of salt and rain. A storm was coming. She could feel it in the air. The gulls circling overhead cried out sharply before disappearing inland, as if they too sensed something was wrong.
Below her, the Romani camp stretched along the edge of the coastline. Brightly painted wagons formed a loose circle around a large firepit where preparations for the evening meal were already underway. Children chased one another between the wagon, their laughter carrying across the distance. Horses grazed in nearby fields while women hung freshly washed clothes from lines strung between wooden posts.
Home.
The sight should have eased the knot twisting inside her stomach.
It didn’t
“You are doing it again.”
Esmeria turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Her younger brother, Tomas, climbed the hill toward her carrying a fishing net over one shoulder. At sixteen years old he was taller than she remembered, though she still found it impossible to think of him as anything other than the stubborn little boy who had spent half his childhood following her around camp.
She raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”
“Talking to the sea.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
“I wasn’t talking to it.”
Tomas laughed. “You were staring at it like it was about to answer you.”
“Maybe it was.”
“See?” He pointed accusingly. “That is exactly the sort of thing that makes everyone think you are strange.”
Esmeria nudged him with her shoulder as he reached her side. Together they stood looking out over the ocean. For a moment neither spoke.
The waves rolled endlessly toward shore. The wind grew colder and deep within her chest, the feeling of dread tightened.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Esmeria made her way back toward the camp. The familiar sounds of home wrapped around her as she walked between the brightly painted wagons. Children darted past her in a blur of laughter, their bare feet kicking up dust as they chased one another around the campfire circle. The smell of roasting meat drifted through the air, mingling with woodsmoke and the salty breeze rolling in from the sea.
Normally, it was her favorite time of day.
Today, the unease she’d felt since dawn refused to leave her.
“Esmeria!”
She turned at the sound of her mother’s voice.
Marina Lee stood beside one of the wagons, hands planted firmly on her hips. Though years of travel and hard work had etched lines around her eyes, there was still a warmth to her smile that always made Esmeria feel safe.
“Where have you been?” Marina asked.
“Walking.”
“By the sea again?”
Esmeria offered a guilty smile.
Her mother sighed. “One day that ocean is going to steal you away.”
“It hasn’t managed it yet.”
Marina shook her head but smiled nonetheless.
As Esmeria stepped closer, she spotted her grandmother sitting beside the fire. Nana Sofia’s silver hair glowed in the firelight, woven into a long braid that rested over one shoulder. Though age had bent her back and slowed her steps, there was nothing weak about the old woman. Her dark eyes seemed to miss nothing.
The moment Esmeria approached, Nana Sofia looked up.
“Something troubles you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Esmeria lowered herself onto a nearby stool.
“The sea feels strange.”
Her grandmother’s expression darkened.
“The sea always speaks.”
“Not like this.”
The old woman’s gaze shifted toward the coastline visible beyond the wagons.
For a long moment, she remained silent.
Then she nodded slowly.
“I felt it too.”
A chill ran through Esmeria.
If Nana Sofia felt it, perhaps she wasn’t imagining things after all.
As darkness settled across the camp, lanterns were lit and music filled the air. A violinist began to play near the fire while dancers spun beneath the stars. Yet even surrounded by laughter and celebration, Esmeria couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was approaching.
Later that evening, she found herself sitting across from Nana Sofia outside the old woman’s wagon.
Between them rested a worn deck of tarot cards.
The cards had belonged to her grandmother for decades. Their edges were frayed from years of use, their illustrations faded with age. Yet every symbol still held meaning.
Nana Sofia pushed the deck toward her.
“Draw.”
Esmeria hesitated.
“I don’t think I want to.”
“That has never stopped fate before.”
The old woman arched an eyebrow.
Reluctantly, Esmeria shuffled the cards and drew three.
She placed them face up between them.
The Tower.
Death.
The Moon.
Her stomach dropped.
Silence settled over them.
Even the distant music seemed to fade.
“What does it mean?” Esmeria asked quietly.
Nana Sofia studied the cards.
“The Tower speaks of destruction.”
The knot in Esmeria’s chest tightened.
“The Death card rarely means death itself. It speaks of endings. Change. Transformation.”
“And the Moon?”
The old woman’s eyes lifted to meet hers.
“Hidden dangers.”
For a moment, neither woman spoke. The fire crackled softly beside them. A cold wind swept through the camp.
Esmeria stared at the cards.
She suddenly wished she hadn’t drawn them.
“Can fate be changed?” she asked.
Nana Sofia looked toward the ocean.
“Sometimes.”
The answer wasn’t reassuring.
That night, long after the camp had gone quiet, Esmeria lay awake in her wagon. Moonlight filtered through the canvas walls. Sleep refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes, strange images flashed through her mind.
Dark waves.
Storm clouds.
A ship emerging from the mist.
A man standing at its bow.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Dangerous.
Though his face remained hidden, she felt his gaze fixed upon her.
Watching.
Waiting.
Her eyes snapped open. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Outside, thunder rumbled far out at sea. She climbed from her bed and stepped into the cool night air. The camp slept peacefully around her.
Only the distant sound of waves broke the silence.
Drawn by something she couldn’t explain, Esmeria walked toward the shoreline.
The ocean shimmered beneath the moonlight. She stepped into the surf, letting the cold water wash over her feet. Closing her eyes, she listened.
At first there was only the sound of the waves.
Then she heard it.
A whisper.
Faint.
Urgent.
Run.
Her eyes flew open.
The voice vanished instantly.
She stood frozen.
The wind whipped her hair around her face.
Another wave crashed against the shore.
Run.
The warning echoed through her mind. Fear crawled down her spine. For the first time in her life, the sea sounded afraid.
Just before dawn, shouting erupted throughout the camp.
Esmeria jolted awake.
People rushed between the wagons.
Voices rose in alarm.
Throwing on her boots, she hurried outside. A crowd had gathered near the cliffs overlooking the coastline.
Her pulse quickened.
She pushed through the gathering until she reached the front.
Then she froze.
Far out upon the ocean, dark shapes emerged from the morning mist.
Ships.
Several of them.
Black sails billowed against the pale light of dawn.
A hush fell across the camp.
Fear spread like wildfire.
Esmeria stared at the approaching vessels.
The warning she’d heard all night suddenly made sense. The sea hadn’t been whispering.
It had been trying to save her.
And as the first rays of sunlight broke across the horizon, she realised it was already too late.
oh this one is going to be as good as the first was