At the far end of the orlop, I find a ladder leading upward. There’s no telling where it goes, and I can only blindly hope it leads to a place they will not think to search for whoever left their mark on the floor of the hold. At least until we reach the isles of the Sea of Renewal, because if they truly mean to cross the intermaria, there is no other course they could be taking, not with the cliffs hemming in the far edge of the Sea of Crowns, though I have no wish to throw myself overboard there either. Healing my foot would mean giving up another memory, and I am unsure whether I have any I am willing to part with. The Sea of Renewal always takes one in return for a mended wound.
Biting down on my lip, I hone my focus on the present task and start climbing.
What lies at the top of the ladder is not quite what I had expected. It’s the galley, the ship’s kitchen. I stand as straight as I am able, and cannot help but notice how much easier the movement feels in the warm air of the room. There is an iron stove bolted to the deck, a steady fire crackling inside. A long worktable runs down the center of the narrow room, and from the wear in the wood, I can tell it’s been here a long time. Pots and ladles hang from hooks along a beam, and racks fixed to the wooden wall hold onions, citrus, and a net of dried herbs. I would have expected something filthier from a pirates’ galley.Whoever works here clearly loves their craft and cares deeply for the space.
I snuff out the fiery hunger in my stomach and force myself past the food, moving sternward. The door at the end is framed in oak and hangs half open, its glass panes clouded. Salt air slips through, and I inhale deeply, finding comfort in the familiar scent. The thought of clean sea air and a short moment of rest pulls me forward, beckons me out into the open. I press my hand to the cool wood of the door, and step onto a little balcony.
The sea stretches grey and endless, broken only by the churn of white foam trailing behind the ship. In the distance, the cliffs of Aurelith loom, storm light still flashing above them while the waters here lie calmer now. The cold wind bites into my cheeks, stinging the skin red, but for the first time since I fled the hunters, I can breathe. The balcony is a temporary reprieve, but danger still snatches at me behind my back. “There you are.”
I flinch as the familiar voice cuts through me. I close my eyes, draw a breath, and turn straight into a solid wall of man.
Into the Captain himself.
Sable.
Chapter Four
MybreathingquickensasI try to step back, the railing biting into my spine. The man in front of me radiates danger and something I can’t quite name. Wet black hair clings to his face, framing kohl-rimmed eyes as grey as the sea surrounding us. By the way those eyes narrow on me, I can tell he would toss me over the rail without hesitation should I try to escape – or fight.
“What, swallowed your tongue?” he taunts.
I open my mouth in anticipation of biting back, but no words come. I clench my fingers into a fist at my side, half out of frustration, half in preparation for throwing a punch. Normally, I can always escape. There‘s always a little alley I can sneak into, a wall I can climb. But not here, the drop from the balcony is sure to bring me to my end. No, if I wish to be free of him, I am going to have to confront the tall, muscled man before me.
A wicked grin spreads across his face as he closes the door with an eerily calm movement, though I know it only masks the darkness behind it. He knows I am no threat to him, and he knows I cannot escape unless I let the sea take me. Drowning is a miserable way to go, for the sea is as vicious as it is generous. One can never truly know the nature of its intentions.
“How did you find me?” I manage, grabbing the railing behind me.
“Oh, darling. You thought you could hide from me on my ship?” His grin widens. “I thought you might enjoy a little game of hide-and-seek before I lock you up, so I asked Saint to force you from your hiding spot.”
He folds his arms in front of his broad chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt taut. “Our cabin boy Lark told me all about you, and what you did to him. Poor boy thinks you’re a sea witch.” His gaze drops to my collarbones and my arms, where scales glint faintly in the weak sunlight that makes it through the dense clouds. “Though I must admit, I’ve never heard of a witch with scales.”
I lift my chin, feigning confidence. Being mistaken for a witch is far safer than the truth of a siren without a tail or a full song.
“Then I dare say you have not seen many sea witches,” I answer. “We can take on the features of any chosen sea creatures if we wish.”
“And you chose to look like a fish?” he mocks with an arched brow, grin fixed in place. It takes all my efforts not to strike that smug grin right off him.
“Yes,” I say through my teeth, holding myself back by frayed threads. By the way he talks and holds himself, I already know he’s the kind of man who provokes just for the fun of it. Losing my temper and baring my canines will be of no help here. I do not exist for his entertainment.
“Mhmm…” he hums, as though he is tasting the lie and deciding whether it pleases him or not.
“You must think me a fool, lass,” he says, stepping closer. The ship rolls beneath us, but he doesn’t shift his weight, secure in his stance. “Sea witches do not compel lads with a hum, and they’re certainly not naive enough to hide on a pirate ship. Especially not mine.”
“And yet,” I say carefully, keeping my gaze on his. “here I am.”
“And yet,” he repeats, his chest rising and falling with excited breath.
The wind snaps between us, tugging at his coat and my hair. The space between us feels smaller with every passing second, and with the certainty of the cold water waiting below, I forget how to breathe.
“If I decide you’re lying,” he continues, voice almost too casual, “I‘ll toss you overboard myself. I don't much like stowaways. I like liars even less.”
Before I can answer, his gaze shifts past my shoulder, eyes widening. I turn to see a faint pulse beneath the waves.
A thread of light.
It blinks once, soft and distant, like a star pulsing in the darkest depths of the water. A shimmer of light, too alive to belong here. Even my deepest imaginings could not conjure up such an image, and for a breathless moment, I stand transfixed with awe. The world narrows to that single line of light, movingwith quiet conviction, stitching a path through the black sea, like a silver ribbon drawn through ink. I narrow my eyes and track it. It threads along the side of the ship, keeping pace with us.
The captain steps closer to the rail beside me, all mockery stripped from him.