by Adalyn Grace
Freedom from my curses is only an ocean away.
I won’t be waiting until summer to set sail.
Our departure is quieter than I expected. Since everyone who lives on Arida works for the royal family, there are no cheering crowds to send us off. The few who stop by come quietly and don’t linger, mostly palace chefs who bring gifts of meats and pastries, while maids stock the ship with gowns and soaps.
“The islands have themselves in a tizzy trying to get everything prepared in time.” Mother clasps her hands together in an effort to stop fidgeting with her cloak. “But everything’s been arranged, and should you need something—or if anything happens, Amora—have Casem contact me.”
I wish I didn’t have to see the pain in her eyes, or the fear of losing someone else in her life. I wish there was somewhere for me to look without seeing Father. “I’m going to fix everything, I promise.”
I hug my own cloak tight as soldiers weave around us, loading our supplies onto The Duchess. Though the island will warm throughout the day, here in the early morning fog my breath plumes in thick gray clouds. I breathe in the brine so deeply it stings my nose, catching my fingers beating a fast rhythm against my sides.
I shouldn’t be this eager. I’ve been on The Duchess nearly every day since I recovered from my fight with Kaven. But as I try to remind myself of that, a flash of full white sails floats in the corner of my vision, and my fingers still.
The approaching ship is one I’ve not seen since Arida took a bite out of it last summer. Somehow the splendid white bow has been mended with Zudian birch, and the entire ship polished to perfection. The barnacles that once ate their way along the wood have been stripped away, and the glossy white figurehead of a seething sea dragon looms over us, larger and fiercer than ever.
Keel Haul is and will always be the most brilliant ship, and as my eyes linger on its captain, I have to bite my tongue.
Bastian’s not behind the helm where I expect him, but seated atop the figurehead, impeccable in a fitted scarlet coat and khaki breeches. His leather boots are polished, and his chestnut hair is loose and curling against the wind. He’s gorgeous, but that’s not what makes my heart take pause and my stomach twist fiercely with desire.
It’s his smile. The same boisterous, cocky smirk he wore when I first met him. The smile of someone who reeks of charm. Who wants to be noticed and thrives off it.
It’s the smile of the pirate I fell for, back for the first time in ages.
“That boy certainly likes to make an entrance.” I ignore the hint of amusement that lightens Mother’s words. “I suppose that means it’s time for me to get back to the palace. But remember what I said—be safe. I’m only a sail away.” She pulls me into her chest without warning, burying me in the warmth of her furs for a moment too long before peeling away, keeping her face ducked out of view. “I’m sorry for this burden, but you’re going to be an amazing queen, Amora. I just know it.”
She’s halfway down the docks before I can process her words, her footsteps hurried, not looking back. If she does, we both know she’ll try to stop me.
I force my attention from Mother’s retreating figure and ahead to the sea. Keel Haul’s sails billow as the ship approaches, and Vataea stands at the bow, her lips moving in a steady chant. Though I can’t hear her, it’s clear she’s commanding the tides as they roll and bend to her will, easing the ship onto the docks beside Father’s ship, The Duchess.
“Ahoy, Your Majesty!” Bastian cups his hands over his mouth to call to me, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. The last thing he needs to do is yell; we can all hear him. “Tell your soldiers to transfer the cargo onto my ship.” He’s got one foot dangling off the dragon, while he bends the other at the knee and leans against it, looking perfectly confident. Perfectly at ease. Just … perfect, really. It’s incredibly annoying.
Though he once told me he wanted nothing more than to take a break from the sea and settle, looking at him now, it’s clear that Bastian will never belong to an easy life on the shore. Perhaps he wanted a taste of it, just to see if it satisfied his craving. But I know what that craving’s like, and it will never be satisfied. His soul is one that’s made to be moving, always on the hunt for the next adventure.
Keel Haul groans as she settles into the sand, and I shove my hands deep within my cloak for fear their trembling will give away how desperate my fingers are to reach out and graze her cool wood. Or how desperate my body is to settle into my place on its deck. To return to my cabin and be lulled to sleep in a hammock, surrounded by nothing more than waves and wood.
No politics. No pain. No fake magic.
As quickly as that wanting swells within me, I snuff it out, digging my nails into my palms to quell the anticipation.
This isn’t meant to be an adventure.
“We’re taking The Duchess,” I announce stubbornly, lifting my chin to watch his brows crinkle. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s with amusement or annoyance.
“No, we’re taking Keel Haul,” he challenges, voice light as air and as overly confident as only men can be. “You want to make an impression on your people, don’t you? You want everyone to take notice from the moment you arrive, ready to break the hearts of some poor bastards?” Lithe from experience, Bastian shimmies down the neck of the figurehead. He knows exactly where to grab to get himself low enough to safely jump onto the sand.
“The Duchess is a great ship,” he says, “but she’s no Keel Haul. This ship has gotten us through one adventure together, and she’s fit to get us through another.” Up close, I see his face isn’t as confident as I thought. Though he maintains his ease and charm, the corners of that smile waver. While his eyes dance with hope, anxiety creases its way onto his skin.
“If you think that being on Keel Haul will somehow make everything between us back to normal…”
He shakes his head. “Stop being stubborn and give the order. You know you’d rather take my ship. She’s quicker. We’ll be able to cut down our travel time between the islands.” Behind him, Vataea laughs, and I shoot her a glare for letting herself get roped into Bastian’s antics.
I open my mouth to argue, afraid of how being on Keel Haul with Bastian might make me feel. But before I can, there’s a hand on my shoulder. I jump, exhaling a sigh of relief when I see it’s only Ferrick.
Ferrick’s dressed in his adviser uniform, wearing a deep green frock inlaid with elegant gold stitching that snakes up its collar, forming the shape of leaves and ivy. It’s no longer a rapier he carries at his side, but a gorgeous gold broadsword with a pommel that’s decorated with a sapphire on one side, and a fierce emerald on the other.
Though the green he picked for his coat doesn’t quite match his goldenrod pants, he’s getting better with his wardrobe. Though they’ll never admit it, I suspect he and Bastian have been selecting clothing together, recently.
“I think it’s a good idea to take Keel Haul.” Ferrick’s words are quiet, meant just for me. “We’re trying to keep the crew small, and she’s an easier ship to maneuver. Plus, we’re comfortable with her. Bastian’s right, you’re being stubborn.” He ruffles my hair, frizzing it with the friction, but the tension in my chest eases. They’re right.
Rather than look back at Bastian, I turn to the soldiers. “Thank you for your work, but plans have changed. Get everything loaded onto Keel Haul as quickly as possible.”
If they’re annoyed, they don’t show it. Fortunately we’ve only just started loading The Duchess, and the soldiers are quick to adjust their route and get moving with the cargo. As they do, Ferrick grins at me.
“It’s okay to be excited,” he says, as if he’s able to sense the eagerness I’m desperately trying to conceal. “You love sailing; don’t be ashamed of that. You may have to keep a brave face for Visidia, but you’re with friends here. All right?”
“All right.” I raise my hand to let my palm set atop his, settled upon my shoulder. Though I don’t fully believe his words, I appreciate them.
Ferrick and I do not have a romantic love, and we never will. But I trust him more than anyone. He is, undoubtedly, my best friend.
“I’m glad you’re back,” I tell him, and he responds with a smile and a quick kiss to the top of my head.
“I’m glad, too.” His tone, however, doesn’t match his words. “I just … I can’t help but feel guilty about this. After everything Vataea’s been through, she deserves to know about Blarthe.”
“She does.” I fix him with a serious look. “But if I tell Vataea now, she’ll march right to his cell and slit his throat herself.”
“Would she be wrong to?” Ferrick asks, and I half expect him to be joking. Last summer, he’d never have said such a thing. But his eyes are shadowed now, and his lips are pressed into a thin, straight line. I realize that, this time, he’s serious.
It’s as though every time I blink I see another part of Ferrick that’s changed. He was the one who delivered the final blow that killed Kaven, after all. Even if it was to save me, he’s taken a life. I know from experience how much that can change a person.
“No,” I admit. “At least, I don’t think she’d be.” As much as Ferrick has changed, so have I. Once, I would have readily agreed that Vataea should slit his throat and be done with it. Gods, she could even bite his throat out with her own teeth and I would have supported her. But since learning the truth about the Montaras—since learning that every single person I killed wasn’t for the good of the kingdom like I was raised to believe—I’m not certain anymore.
I will absolutely do whatever it takes to serve my people and lead them into a stronger future. If I must kill or get my hands dirty to do that, I will.
But does that mean it’s not wrong? What makes me any better than those I kill?
“For now, I need him alive.” I push through the strain in my voice, refusing to let the thoughts linger. “If we’re keeping our crew as small as possible, we’ll need Vataea’s magic. We’ll need her sharp.”
Though it’s with a sigh, Ferrick relents. His hand shifts to the small of my back as he pushes forward, urging me toward Keel Haul and to the boy who stands on the sand before it, waiting.
Let’s not forget that I’m a bachelor, too.
Thinking back to Bastian’s words, my skin grows hot. With everything in me I wish I could allow myself to fall into the weight of those words and feel them. I wish I could take his face in my hands and press my lips against his. Taste the salt and the sea that I’m sure has never left them.
There’s desperation in his bones and a hungry pulse of his soul that tells me Bastian feels the same. But I can’t let his sideways smirk or the stars dancing in his eyes sway me, no matter how much my body wants to be swayed.
Bastian’s quick to climb the ladder and lower Keel Haul’s ramp, and I weave through the royal soldiers to climb aboard. But the moment I pass by, he whispers, “Welcome aboard,” and just like that, I’m transported back to the night we met.
I still, and his knowing expression is enough to tell me he’s perfectly aware of what he’s doing to me. Without a word, I force my feet to obey and pass him, making my way to Vataea.
“Are you certain you’ll be able to guide the ship?” I ask, lifting placating hands when her stare turns venomous. “I’m not doubting you. I just don’t want you wearing yourself out.”
“I’ve been practicing.” Haughtily she juts her hip to the side, arms folded. With the added weight she’s put on since being on Arida, her curves are generous and difficult to look away from. Behind me a soldier trips and drops a chest full of cargo, forgetting herself at the sight of Vataea. The mermaid’s eyes flash briefly to the soldier, look her over once, and then return to me.
“Practice all you want,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll never wear down. You’re not invincible, Vataea.”
“Perhaps not.” She bats strands of raven-black hair over her shoulder. “But I’m the closest thing to it. Besides, he’ll be around to help.”
When Vataea points her long dark nails behind me, I turn to find Casem and Mira. He’s got his bow slung across his back, one hand free to hold Mira’s. I try not to scrutinize her too much as she makes her way down the shore. There’s color in her cheeks now, and a healthy glow to her skin. But I can’t help thinking of when I saw her crumpled to the floor, dying from the stab wound in her chest. Even with the help of the Suntosans, it’s taken her a long while to heal. She favors her left side, and the hitch in her step tells me she’s not as recovered as she lets on. None of us are.
At the bottom of the ramp, Casem turns to Mira and pulls her in close. He whispers something I can’t hear, but that I know is intimate enough that I should look away. And yet, I can’t. Not even as she pushes onto her toes and grabs his face, kissing him with more fierceness than I’d known her capable of. When she eases away, her pearl engagement ring catches the light of the breaking dawn, and I find myself staring at it with a burning heat in my veins.
I’m happy for them. I really, truly am. But I can’t help but envy how easy this is for her. She loves Casem, and he loves her. There’s nothing confusing or difficult about it.
Only after making sure she’s bundled tightly in her coat does Casem plant another firm kiss to her lips and begin to draw back. His footsteps are slow, dragging across the sand.
I wish I didn’t have to take him with me. But Mira’s been teaching him mind speak, and coupled with his ability to manipulate air, he’s too valuable to leave behind.
“That’s nearly everyone,” I say, mostly to myself, though Vataea’s lips press thin with surprise.
“Nearly?” she echoes as a royal soldier approaches. It’s one I don’t recognize, the same woman who stumbled at the sight of Vataea. She’s tall, with broad shoulders and cropped red hair. Freckles kiss her face, and her green eyes are bright and devious as she looks us over. On her wrist is a small bracelet that looks as though it’s been made from dainty fish bones and plated in rose gold.
“Forgive my eavesdropping”—her voice is a purr I recognize instantly—“but did I hear correctly? You’re waiting on another crew member?”
Vataea’s eyes flash as she turns to me, as if to ask, Is this person serious?
I try not to laugh as the soldier’s grin turns toothy. The red of her hair lightens and lengthens down her spine, turning into baby-pink waves. Her green eyes deepen into the shade of fresh blood, and her curves widen while she shrinks in height. Slowly, her body continues to morph until it’s clearly Shanty who stands before us.
“Hey there, Captain,” she purrs. “Care to introduce me to your friend?”
I bite back a smirk as Vataea’s neck contracts with initial surprise. But she levels her expression and lets curiosity take its place. Her eyes linger slowly up Shanty, taking their time.
“Vataea,” she answers for herself, but keeps her arms folded across her chest, not offering a hand.
“You must be the mermaid.” Shanty offers her hand anyway, and smiles deviously when Vataea eventually takes it. “I’m Shanty.”
“Shanty’s the one who tipped us off about where to find you,” I offer. “She uses Ikaean enchantment magic in a way I’d never seen before I met her. Calls herself a face-shifter.”
“Not just faces, anymore,” Shanty corrects. “I can enchant parts of my body now, too. I’m better with the top half than I am with the lower, but I’m working on it.”
The first time I met Shanty was in the hidden Barracuda Lounge on Ikae. She’d seemed dangerous then, among the color-flashing lights and leading a gang that wouldn’t hesitate to slit our throats if she asked them to. But here, as the sun is peeking through the fog, I’m surprised by how normal she seems.
Shanty’s shorter than I remembered, nearly reaching my shoulders. And though the
red color she prefers to keep her eyes is unnerving, she’s strangely approachable. Clever and ruthless, Shanty is also beautiful, with full pink cheeks and a smile that lies, convincing the world she’s not a threat. She’s the type of girl people find themselves drawn to, never really knowing why; the type you give your trust to far too easily, even if they’re the type who might betray you the moment they’re given the chance.
Though I pardoned Shanty and the barracudas for their past crimes thanks to her helping us find Vataea, it was before I knew they were hired mercenaries. While Shanty knows I’ve got my eye on her, no part of me believes that the barracudas aren’t still taking jobs.
“Are we waiting for anyone else?” Vataea asks as the soldiers finish bringing up the last of the cargo, and I scan the deck to see the crew we’ve assembled:
Ferrick, Casem, Vataea, Shanty, Bastian, and me. A crew of six, which normally would never be enough to maintain a ship of this size. But it’s a perfect crew.
A healer.
A mind speaker who can wield air.
A mermaid who can turn the tides with a single song.
A face-shifter.
A pirate with curse magic, as well as the magic I once had.
And … me. Who, without any magic or skills other than knowing how and where to stab a person for maximum efficiency, adds exactly nothing to the skill set of the crew.
But that’s exactly what I’m here to fix.
As the ramp to Keel Haul is drawn up and the soldiers return to the shore to wave to us, wishing me luck, Bastian takes hold of the helm.
“Where to first?” He’s barely able to conceal the hopeful edge in his voice. Though I know he wants nothing more than for us to return to Zudoh, first I need to chase Blarthe’s lead and see what I can find about the artifact.
“We’ll go to Kerost.”
Bastian nods and gives the helm a sharp twist. “Vataea, that means we need to head southwest. It’s a long trip, so if you’d be so kind…”
Vataea’s quick to take her place at the bow. She leans over the railing, whispering a chant so quietly that at first it sounds like she’s mumbling. But as the tides stir, her chanting grows louder and louder until the waves practically take hold of our ship and throw us forward. The initial jolt sends me stumbling into Ferrick, who catches me as he tries to keep his footing.