He does not let up on his shoving until I am out of the cabin and on the other side of the cell door. I lower myself onto the cot as the lock clicks shut. If Grim says something before he leaves, I do not hear it.
My thoughts are spiraling, thinking about the consequences of my bargain. If I am right, the crew might show mercy at the tribunal. If I am wrong, well, we are all doomed anyway. At least Sable seems to recognize that I am their only hope to make it through the intermaria. Something about him is otherworldly. The color of his eyes, how he gives nothing away. He reminds me of the sea, and how flat and black it can look from above. From a distance. Yet, there beneath that quiet surface, whole forests of kelp sway, currents cross and collide, and creatures with teeth like knives glide unseen. He is dark. Clouded. His morality murky, his temper short.
And yet, I believe he is made of such depths.
Chapter Nine
Thescreamscomingfromthe deck shake me to the core. We have reached the intermaria much quicker than estimated, as only a few days have passed since Grim locked me in my cell. Everything between then and now is a blur of eating and sleeping and staring at the ceiling. My thoughts have been restless about Sable and the approaching tribunal. How I must hold up my end of the bargain, and how Sable seems unwilling to let me be free to do so. How my fate lies in the hands of pirates. By the seas, my chances of leaving this ship are narrowing withevery thought. My tiredness slips from me as soon as Lark comes rushing to my cell, dripping wet, the cursed water sticking his clothes to his body.
My feet carry me to the bars of the cell as though with a mind of their own, and I wrap my hands around the iron. My heart pounds as I eagerly wait for him to speak. Usually, he approaches me with the kind of daring confidence only a child can have. But not today. He tries to get the keys out of the pocket of his breeches, but his shaking hands won’t seem to let him pull them free.
“Lark.” My gaze meets his, pure panic writhing across his face.
“The maelstroms. They are….” he drifts off, swallowing, fidgeting with the fabric of his trousers. More shouts erupt from the deck. Sable’s voice carries through them all, trying to calm the crew.
“Look at me. Breathe, slowly.” I instruct him, drawing in a slow breath. He mirrors it, taking one long inhale.
“Now, try to take out the keys again. Everything’s fine.” I say, my voice sure and steady. “We’ll be fine, Lark. I promise.”
He glances at me before reaching into his pocket, his hands still shaking as he pulls the key free.
“Good,” I reassure him, “Now unlock the door. Just focus on that.”
The keys rattle against the lock as his fingers fumble, refusing to steady. A frustrated grunt escapes him, and his eyes begin to shine.
“It’s okay,” I press my lips together, forcing myself to think. I could hum for him, but I don’t want to take away his will again. He asked me not to use my power on him again, and I will not betray his trust. “Take another breath and try again. You can do this. You’re a pirate, aye? A pirate never gives up.”
His gaze snaps back to mine, and I offer him an encouraging smile. He hesitates, then nods, his throat bobbing as heswallows. This time, his hands are steady enough to guide the key into the lock. The door clicks open, and he moves on to my cuffs, releasing me. I rub the sore point on my wrists where the cuffs have bit into my skin to ease the pain. I hope that Lark has not lost too much. A few drops of the cursed water will not do any harm, but it looks like an entire wave has crashed over him, and that is sure to have cost him a memory. I curse the crew for sending the poor boy out there in the first place.
“Stay under deck, Lark. It is not safe out there.”
A quick nod is all I need for confirmation before I run down the small hallway in the quarterdeck. The door slams against the wall as I stumble out into the open air, wind tearing at my hair, salt stinging in my eyes.
The two seas collide in a violent embrace. One dark blue, the other shimmering pale and ghostlike, the water where they meet twisting into spirals wide enough to swallow a full fleet of ships. The Sea of Renewal glows faintly, and it pulls at my chest already, whispering promises of mending me. The Sea of Crowns fights back against its force, and the waves of the two seas clash against each other like swords.
There is no doubting it. We have entered the intermaria.
Above me, on the raised quarterdeck, Sable stands at the helm, feet planted wide as the ship heaves beneath him. His shirt clings to him, soaked through, his hair plastered to his brow. One hand grips the wheel, the other raised as he shouts orders into the chaos.
“Grim, hold her steady! Tie down the foremast! Bosun, the sails now!”
Grim is already there, braced against the helm beside him, muscles straining as the ship lurches. His eyes are narrowed slits of determination as the wheel continues to jerk. The ship drifts to the right, closer to the first maelstrom awaiting us. The Bosunscrambles up the rigging, a knife between his teeth, before cutting loose a tangled rope, before the sail can tear itself apart.
Another wave surges over the gunwale. It hits me like a wall and steals the breath from my lungs, the familiar cold drilling into my bones. Sable shouts, but it’s too late. The deck tilts, and I go with it, sliding, then catching myself on a cleat. Between my hands, the water sheens bright with the light of Renewal inside it. It searches for hurt, for anything to mend, as though it is as curious as a living thing. I pull back with a hiss and whisper a plea to the sea. Please don’t take any more from me; you already took too much.
I haul myself upright, salt burning in my eyes, and force a breath into my chest. Beneath the next wave, the Sea of Renewal gleams like molten glass, its glow curling around the Noctis in ribbons of silver.
The ship groans, her timbers crying out in protest.
“By the seas,” I say. “She’ll be torn apart.”
Sable’s eyes find mine through the chaos, his storm-gray eyes meeting mine. There’s no sign of fear in him. Only an impossible, reckless determination that could make the seas themselves obey him. If the seas obeyed anyone, that is.
“Not while I breathe,” he shouts over the crashing of waves, and the ship dives towards the maelstrom.
Brave, I think to myself, and remember how my mother constantly whispered that word into my ear. She could sing a song that would calm the waters and create a passage through the impossibly strong current. My mother may not be here, but I am. And I’ll be damned if I die on a bloody pirate ship.
So I curl my hands into a fist and make my way up to the helm. Five massive maelstroms are spreading out in front of us, and by the looks of it, the crew is trying to navigate through them, completely ignoring my advice. Stubborn, reckless pirates.