Her hair is blonde, almost white, the same pale shade as her eyes. The siren’s tail looks strong yet delicate, iridescent scales covering every inch and climbing up parts of her torso. There is nothing monstrous or uncomfortable about her, she simply looks beautiful.
Seeing a picture of what I could have, and likely never will, makes my heart grow heavy. The weight of it drags me down, and I feel like I'm drowning all over again.
“Put it away,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move.
“Please,” I add, “put it away.”
Sable snaps the book shut and puts it back on the shelf. I bite my lip hard enough that I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed.
“My mother had a black tail,” I say quietly. “She wasn’t from here. I don’t know anything about this sea. But Nightglass says there’s nothing to see. Just an endless mirror.”
“And there’s no wind,” Grim adds, already lost in his thoughts. “Without wind, we’re stuck. Supplies won’t last forever.”
“We’ll ration,” Sable says. His arms fold behind his back again. “And wait.”
“And there’s more,” Grim continues, shoulders tensing as he glances at me. “Eryse, this is yours to tell. I don’t remember most of it.”
Because his shadow was separate from him too.
I sigh and begin to pace the cabin. I don’t know what I did, or how I did it, or whether I can do it again. False hope is a dangerous thing, so I choose my words very carefully, though deep down I hope that it will make Sable see things differently.
I tell them about Lark.
Not every detail. Not the way Lark trembled in my arms, or how the fear clawed at my ribs as his shadow pulled away from him. I tell them only what matters. That his shadow detached.That he panicked. That I sang for him when nothing else seemed to work, and that somehow, his shadow was drawn to it and returned to his body.
When I finish, the cabin is quiet. Unsettlingly so.
“I…” My voice falters. “I was exhausted afterward. But the fear of what could’ve gone wrong kept me awake until… I fell asleep.”
Fell asleep with him on the balcony, the truth remains unspoken between us, and we leave it there. We don’t need to go over all the details.
Grim clears his throat first. “Is it permanent?”
“It felt pretty final to me.”
“If this is true…” Sable says, beginning to pace too.
“It might be our cure,” Grim finishes, both of their gazes landing on me. Hope flashes through Sable’s eyes, and from where he’s standing beside the little round window, the sun makes it look like they are sparkling. He looked so broken hours ago, as if he had truly lost all hope for a life without his curse. Perhaps I was a little too hard on him.
“I don’t have control over it,” I say, the words leaving me like a confession. “My voice. I don’t know how to use my siren song. I have never compelled a man.”
“Then we practice,” he says, walking over and stopping in front of me with a smile on his face. Something about him being in such proximity to me makes me lift my head despite myself, feigning nonchalance. Grey eyes bore into mine, and even though it has been some hours, my lips begin to tingle at the thought of our kiss. At the thought of it happening again.
“If we’re stuck here, we might as well use the time to our advantage. You will practice,” a smile tugs at the corner of those rosy lips of his. “And you will practice on me, little fish.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sablehassentthewhole crew below deck for our so-called training. He stands a few feet away from me, arms folded neatly behind his back, shoulders squared, stance secure in a way that feels calculated rather than relaxed, as if he’s already bracing himself for whatever I might do. His black, slightly curly hair sits untouched by the lack of wind, not a single strand out of place. Bone charms and necklaces hang loose around his neck, catching the sun whenever he shifts, andI do not even try to ignore the tattoos that disappear beneath his linen shirt, because pretending they are not there would be a lie.
Seducing this man might be more difficult than I thought.
“So,” he says, spreading his arms wide, the gesture open and infuriating. “You can begin.”
A humorless laugh bubbles out of my throat. “That’s not how it works. My inner siren is fueled by strong emotions. Fear. Anger. Hate and…”
I trail off, my brows drawing together as the missing word settles heavier than the rest.