“You will be good. Aye?” he asks quietly, his hot breath caressing my face.
I hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Aye.”
It is the least I can do seeing as he risked a great deal saving my life, and personally, I have no intention of giving a dockside full of pirates a reason to look at me twice.
Grim was right. By the time the sun begins its slow descent, the islands have risen fully from the sea.
They fade into view piece by piece as the Noctis cuts through the black water. Dark cliffs break from the surface of the islands, jagged and uneven, their surfaces carved with sharp drops. Wooden houses cling to those ledges, built into the rock wherever there is space to hold them. They stack upward in uneven rows, one perched above the next, connected by narrow stairways, rope bridges, and plank walkways that stay betweenthem. Smoke curls into the sky as it fades from a light grey to a dark shade of indigo.
The closer we get, the louder the ship becomes, and the dimmer the Glim shines. Sable barks commands to ready the ship to make port. The crew moves with purpose, tightening ropes and shifting sails. The Noctis slows down as we reach shallow waters, as if she knows this place as well as they do. Figures gather along the docks, and more appear on the cliffs above.
Slowly but surely, the Noctis stops moving, and the gangplank slams down with a heavy thud. With that, the Glim disappears. The crew pours onto the land, and laughter erupts around us; names are called in greeting. Someone even starts singing a tune in an awful off-key note.
I’m still standing at the railing, watching Nightglass and Lark reunite with who I assume is their wife and mother. She’s a gorgeous woman with red hair braided down to her hips. She crouches down, and the little pirate clings to her like a little monkey. A smile tugs at my lip at the sight.
More pirates reunite with family as the lower ranks are still busy bringing the goods on land up from the hold, carrying more and more chests and barrels until they line up on the surrounding beach and the docks.
They must’ve been quite busy organizing things on their travels.
Sable is the last one to leave the ship. His shoulder brushes mine as we walk down the plank. Eyes follow me as our feet touch solid ground for the first time in weeks. A man leaning against a crate lets his gaze linger on me, dragging it from my face down to my collarbones. Sable stops. His head turns, and his eyes lock onto him. The man holds his stare, then his jaw tightens and he looks away first, pushing off the crate as if he suddenly has somewhere else to be.
“You have to remember,” he carefully places a hand on my back and leads me through the crowd. “That many of us have lost someone to a siren. They will know what you are. The sea has its way of carrying rumors through the wind.”
I quickly nod, pulling my guard up, though weirdly, him being with me gives me a sense of security that I haven’t felt before. I’m not used to feeling protected.
“You remember what you promised me earlier?” he asks in a low voice, not wanting anyone to hear.
“I must stick with you. I am not to talk to anyone. And under no circumstance should I use my voice.”
“Well remembered, little fish,” he replies, and his shoulders relax by the second. No one has attacked me yet, which I take to be a good sign. The crowd naturally splits in front of us, which clearly proves that Sable’s got a reputation that extends beyond his ship.
“Where are we going?” I manage to ask, while his hand stays firmly planted on my back. It doesn’t feel like control, like a reminder that I am under his authority. This is nothing he does to keep me in line. In fact, it feels like he does it simply to…be close to me. To touch me. At the thought of it, my heart stumbles, and I become aware of the steady weight of his hand, the heat of it through the fabric. It would be easier if I could pull away, but I don’t. And I can’t. With a flicker of unease, I realize that I wouldn’t want him to pull away either.
“To find my sister,” he replies decisively, “and then, we’ll have some much-needed fun.”
When I glance in his direction, a corner of his mouth is pulled into a slight smile.
“We will be having fun? Am I included in this scenario?” I ask, and immediately regret the question.
“Well, joining is optional. You can choose to stay miserable and mysterious, little fish. Whatever you prefer.”
I stop walking and punch him against his broad chest. Sable only flashes me a grin and then laughs, not even pretending that my hit hurt him the slightest.
“Stop calling me that,” I cross my arms over my chest as we keep walking further into the harbor. Fires burn along the quay, their heat warming my skin as we pass by. Nets hang from posts, heavy with drying seaweed and bone charms. The lanterns swaying above us cast a warm light on the wet cobblestone beneath us.
“Calling you what?” He asks, playing dumb.
“You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes, then glance behind me again. “Little fish.”
“Ah. Well, I have gotten used to the name. I guess you have no choice but to live with it.”
When the crowd becomes tighter again, and the wooden buildings seem to lean into the narrow pathway, Sable's hand finds my back again. Softer, this time, but it’s there. I want to shake off the feeling of electricity jolting through my body. I can’t be sure what it means exactly, but I know I shouldn’t be feeling it nonetheless. Not with him.
I swallow and take a deep breath. I catch Sable looking at me from the corner of my eye, and he removes his hand slowly, as if he himself feels what I feel, that it is too unnatural a feeling for him to keep his hand there. We are not the kind of people who would be touched in that way. But no matter how odd the feeling of his hand on my back was, I can’t help but feel disappointed when the pressure of it lifts.
He leads me further into the village. Now and then, I catch people gawking out of their windows or looking down from makeshift balconies as we pass by. Almost all the houses are made out of wood, and it looks like they just reused whatever was left from broken ships or was brought to the shore by the tide to build them. The door frames are painted or carvedbeautifully. And then there are the bones that decorate almost every door. A symbol of loss and death, likely a memorial to family members they lost.
When I look ahead of us again, Grim disappears into the crowd.