Chapter Ten
The merrow’s singing goes on for hours. Even with my hands over my ears, the haunting melody plagues me. And if I am bothered and restless, I can only imagine how Jamison must be faring. He may be locked in the brig and unable to heed her call, but I don’t want him to suffer.
I lay my head on the pillow, wishing he were here so I could see that he was all right.
That isn’t entirely true. I want Jamison here so he can tell me that everything will be all right. I need assurance that we can escape, get the sword from the merrow king, find Claret, and go home. I bury my face in the pillow, daunted by the tasks ahead of me. How can I do even one of them when I am locked in this cabin?
By the time the merrow finally stops singing, the oil lantern has burned low and shadows dance across the walls. The silence of the clocks drills the fragility of my ticker into my mind. Sleep is a long way off.
Inside the sack Osric gave me, I find strips of seaweed and kelp pods, food that is considered inedible in my world. This won’t be the first time since I left home that I’ve gone to bed hungry.
The sea winds bang at the door, a persistent drumming that I’ve almost managed to ignore, and then a gust shoves the door wide open. I scramble up to shut it before what I’m doing occurs to me.
Osric left the door unlocked.
This must be an accident, a serious mistake. But I won’t squander the opportunity.
I creep out into the gusty sea air, the moon shedding a pale glow across the deck. High above, the pirate flag ripples in the wind. The skull and crossbones are a morbid threat, but equally so is the hourglass, a symbolic reminder that the sands of time run out for everyone.
An elf stands watch in the crow’s nest. My movements remain cautious and my senses high. The ship has two hatches, the closest of which stands open. I pad down the ladder and duck behind it to get my bearings. The ceiling belowdecks is higher than usual to accommodate the giants. A main corridor runs the length of the ship like a backbone, and at the far end is the other ladder to the second hatch. The brig should be off this central corridor.
My ticker beats weakly, which is normal of late, but it has sped up to accommodate my nervousness, and now I’m light-headed. I wait until my head clears before setting out.
I pass closed doors and vacant cabins, searching one after another for the brig. Halfway down the corridor, I hear Markham’s voice.
“You cannot keep me here.”
“We won’t detain you for long,” Osric replies.
“You don’t have many places left to maroon me. Where will it be this time? A sandbar in Skull Reef or a grotto off Hangman’s Spit?”
“Nothing so civilized. You’ve lost the privilege of niceties.”
Their voices carry out of an open door in front of me. I tiptoe closer and peer inside. Markham is tied to a chair. Osric stands before him, his arms flexed and his fists balled.
“You’ve hidden your heritage,” says the elf. “Your sister would be ashamed of you.”
“My sister wants what’s easiest for herself and our people.”
Osric backhands him across the face. “They’re not your people! They no longer belong to you, nor you to them.”
“Nor are they yours,” Markham says, his voice strained with pain. He may be immortal, but he is not invulnerable to pain. “Alert the guard. Let them come.”
The guard? Does he mean the pirate guards?
“You think they’d waste their time? No one’s coming for you, Killian. No one cares about you anymore. Don’t you see that by now? It’s been four hundred years. No amount of time will heal what you’ve done.”
I listen closely, cataloguing every word.
“We cannot go back to the way things were,” Markham replies, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t harbor regrets. I still mourn your sister.”
Osric grabs him by the throat. “Never speak of Brea.”
“I loved her.”
“Like you love that woman of yours who runs after you like a lost mongrel? Does she even know who you are?”
“Harlow loves me. I’ll admit that the last few centuries haven’t gone as intended, but we’re nearing the end of our exile, Osric. I’ve found a way to go home.”
The first mate shoves Markham so hard he tips over onto the floor. The prince groans as he lands on his side, still bound to the chair. “You have nothing,” snarls the elf. “No name, no throne, no future.”
“Nor do you. Why haven’t you gone to the queen and begged for forgiveness? Why haven’t you returned to your parents? You’re still running too, old friend.”
Osric kicks him in the side and then wrenches up his head, his fist full of the prince’s hair. “Mundy has been too kind to you. I will be your reckoning. On my life, I swear you will pay.” He lets go of Markham and starts for the door.
I duck into a shadowed doorway, my ticker thudding rapidly.
“Guards,” he calls as he marches past me. Two men appear down the corridor. “Tomorrow at high tide, Prince Killian will walk the plank with millstones tied to his ankles. Make the arrangements.”
“Yes, sir.”
The guards start to return to the cabin they stepped out of.
“What are you doing?” Osric asks.
“Returning to our post at the brig, sir.”
“You need to consult tomorrow’s watch about my orders.”
“And the prisoners?”
“I’ll stay with them until you finish,” answers the first mate.
The two sailors go down the ladder into the lower decks, where I assume the crewmen have their quarters. Osric strides to the cabin where the guards were on duty.
Alone again, I determine three things. First, Osric has gone to the brig. Second, elves do not have heightened hearing or eyesight or I would have been caught by now. And third, Markham has not been honest about his past. I dart across the corridor into his cabin. He still lies on the floor, tied to the chair.
“Everley, what fortunate timing. Would you please tip me upright?”
“I should kick you in the ribs.”
“Osric already wounded that part. Perhaps try a less tender area?”
“Once I’m done with you, all of you will be tender.”
“Oh, Everley, your temper is so predictable.”
Crushing my teeth down on a growl, I heft Markham upright but leave him bound. His hair flops into his eyes. He blows it away, and a single lock sticks between his brows.
He puts on a mild smile. “Much better.”
“Nothing will be better until you’re gone from my life.”
He clucks his tongue. “You were such a warmhearted child. Your clock heart has turned you cold.”
I stroke the fallen lock of his hair from his face. “If that’s true, do you think it’s wise to antagonize me?” I grip a fistful of his hair and tug until I see ire in his eyes. “Who are the guards you spoke of? How can you return home? You destroyed your world.”
Markham’s lips slice upward. “You haven’t deduced the answers on your own?”
“Don’t put this on me.” I shove his head down and let go of his hair. “I’m giving you the opportunity to be honest before you sink to an endless grave.” Now that I think on it, I couldn’t have designed a more fitting fate for him. As he cannot die, the millstones will weigh Markham down, and he will be stuck at the bottom of the sea, drowning endlessly.
“If I go to the bottom of the sea, so do all the answers you seek. Unbind me, and I will get us off this ship and help you find the sword.”
He’s dangling a juicy piece of bait, and I am tempted to leap for it, but Markham has never been forthright.
“Drown, then,” I say, then revolve to go.
“Everley, I know the way to Everblue.” Markham leans forward as far as his bindings allow. “Release me, and we can work together to retrieve the sword from King Dorian.”
“Everblue is far away. No human can reach it.”
“There are ways.”
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I should go, walk out and let him squirm. But, damn him, I have no other solution for getting to the sword. “Why would I partner with you? You led the pirates to us.”
He spits at the floor. “That had a regrettable outcome, I assure you.”
Some part of me enjoys standing over him while he’s restrained. I’m not sure I want it to end. “I will bring the sword to Father Time. What do you hope to gain from this?”
“I’ve no interest in the sword. The king has other treasures worthy of my attention.”
Markham never does anything for someone else that doesn’t first serve him. He’s probably lying right now to convince me to align with him. He must want the sword for himself, but he wants me to believe I can get it back so I will free him. He deceived me into helping him once. I won’t make that mistake again.
“Find your own way out of here.”
His voice pitches higher, his words tumbling off his tongue. “There’s a portal for land dwellers. You won’t find it without me.”
“There’s another portal?” I grab a fistful of his shirt. “Where is it?”
“If I offer to lead you there, will you go straight home or seek out the sword of Avelyn first? Maybe you need to consult with your husband before you answer.”
I yank him forward. “Stop answering my questions with more questions and tell the truth for once in your infuriatingly long life.”
His eyes glint as if he knows he has hooked me. “The portal is accessible by land dwellers; however, it’s nowhere near the sword.”
“Of course it isn’t,” I mutter, releasing him.
Returning home to Dorestand holds tremendous appeal. Just the prospect swamps me with homesickness. I miss the rain clouds that make my stocking drawers smell musty and my quilt slightly damp. I miss the scent of the bakery down the street baking fat loaves of soda bread. I miss the ring of the entry bell over my uncle’s shop door when a customer arrives. I miss the horse-drawn carriages plodding over the cobblestones and the opposing rhythm of my uncle chiseling in his workshop. I miss turning the thin pages of my favorite book while I sit at the clerk’s desk surrounded by ticktocking clocks. But I cannot return to Dorestand and leave the sword of Avelyn with the merrow king.
The sound of footsteps thuds down the corridor. I hurry to the doorway and see Osric going up the ladder through the hatch. Something feels odd about him forgetting to lock the day cabin, and now he has sent the guards away and left the brig unattended. Mistake or not, the guards are sure to return soon.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Untie me first.”
Markham looks so helpless bound to the chair, his hair a mess, his clothes disheveled. I stride to him and run the hard ridge of my nail across his chin, creating a faint line that will fade, unlike the scars he gave me. “I’ve often imagined what I would do to you if I ever had you to myself.”
“Are you satisfied?”
“Not quite.” I dig my nail in harder, wishing he could bleed.
“Unlike how you feel about me, I have never been disappointed by you.” The prince’s demeanor is so subdued, so earnest, for a moment, I almost believe he is harmless. No one should be allowed to have this much natural charm. “Everley, before you go, I have one tiny request. You will find a pearl in my jacket pocket. Take it and drop it out the porthole into the sea. The merrows favor shiny things. They will accept it as payment for their silence and leave us in peace.”
“Are you hard of hearing? The merrows have already gone.”
“They often return multiple times a night to wear down their prey. I would like to spend my last night above the surface not listening to their repetitive song.”
Curious about this pearl, I fish my fingers in his pocket and take it out. By all appearances, it’s just a jewel, except it’s light blue, a rare color for a pearl. The ones my father brought home from his expeditions were ivory or pink.
“Go on,” Markham says. “Drop it into the sea and protect Lieutenant Callahan. He’s still susceptible to their summons.”
Markham wants this too badly. Having fallen for his tricks before, I have learned that anything he begs for is something I should avoid. I slip the pearl into my pocket. “Enjoy your sleepless night, dear prince.”
“Everley,” he hisses, “don’t leave me tied up. Everley!”
His pleading fades as I creep down the corridor. The brig is indeed in the last cabin. Radella’s cage rests outside the cell, and within, Jamison sits hunched against the iron bars with his hands over his ears, while Harlow and Laverick sleep on the floor.
I tug at the cell door, but it’s locked. Radella sits up from her sulk and motions at Jamison. He slowly lowers his hands from his ears.
“Evie?” he asks. “Did the merrows leave?”
“Yes. Where’s the key?”
“The guards have it. How did you get out?”
“Luck, I hope.” I kneel so I am eye level with Jamison. “How do you feel?”
“I’m better now that the merrow isn’t singing. Markham said resisting their summons feels like your teeth are rattling out of your mouth, but I’d say it’s more like maggots gnawing your flesh. When they locked us in here, I never thought I would be grateful for these metal bars.” I wince at him trying to make light of what must have been torture. “Evie, what are you doing belowdecks? What if you’re caught?”
“I came to see you. On my way here, I stopped to speak with Markham. He has a plan to retrieve the sword of Avelyn from the merrow king, and he wants us to align with him.”
“I hope you told him to impale himself on the anchor.”
“Essentially, yes.”
“Good.” Jamison slides his hand through the gap in the bars and threads my fingers through his. I grip him back, needing his company to steady myself. His expression creases with concern. “Is what the captain said about you true? Is your clock heart in trouble?”
“I have no idea. My ticker is still running and hasn’t needed to be recalibrated since before you replaced the waterlogged parts.” Truth mingled with omission tastes sour, but Jamison will react as my uncle would, worrying about me more than he already does if I tell him my clock heart has been functioning strangely for a while.
“Then why would the captain say that?” he presses.
“My heart is a mechanism, and mechanisms malfunction.” I pause to rid the stiffness from my tone, and with great effort, I add matter-of-factly, “My ticker isn’t a real heart like anyone else’s.”
“You have more heart than anyone I know.” Jamison’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. “You should consider Killian’s offer.”
“Have you gone mad?”
“Don’t trust Killian—never, ever trust him—but he knows this world better than us. We can use him to escape and get the sword.”
I blink rapidly in surprise. “What about going home?”
“You’ve been so preoccupied with the sword you haven’t thought of the opportunity that finding Killian presents.” Jamison’s flinty gaze matches his determined tone. “We can convince him to help us, then imprison him, bring him home, and turn him in to the queen. Once Queen Aislinn has him, I’ll persuade her to grant you a pardon for capturing him and turning him in.”
His suggestion holds merit except for one part. “Markham will anticipate our duplicity.”
“He petitioned you for an alliance. He must be willing to take the risk.”
The prince is so arrogant he probably thinks we don’t have the gumption to cross him. My mind turns Jamison’s strategy over and over, searching for flaws, but the benefit of the queen pardoning me in exchange for Markham outweighs my reservations.
Jamison’s grip on mine tightens. “Evie, we could go home and I could introduce you to my father.”
I try to muster a smile. He hasn’t thought much further ahead than my freedom. It hasn’t occurred to him that he would still have to introduce his criminal wife to his father. I could never get too close to the marquess for fear
that he may discover my clock heart. A pardon from the queen would absolve me of my remaining prison time, but I would still be myself. My dream that I might not always need this clock heart is too incredible a wish to attach to Jamison and me. I must be realistic. I’ll need this heart to live until the day I die.
I rest my forehead against the bars. “Thank you for not treating me like I’m a spectacle.”
Jamison’s brows draw downward. “You shouldn’t thank anyone for treating you with common decency.”
My chest aches for wanting that to be true, but Captain Redmond and his men responded exactly how my uncle warned me outsiders would. He said that once people saw my ticker, they would forget the girl to whom it belongs. Jamison doesn’t recognize how unusual he is.
Outside the ship, a merrow starts to sing. Almost immediately, another merrow lends her voice to the first’s, and then another, and another, until several of them are serenading us. The merrow returned, and she brought reinforcements.
Jamison covers his ears as their singing grows louder. His eyes are already slightly glazed.
I have to get us off this ship. We cannot endure another night of this.
Voices outside the cabin carry up the ladder and into the corridor. The guards must be returning to the brig to finish their shift. I mouth a farewell to Jamison and spot Harlow staring at me, her hand clutching her vial necklace. How long has she been awake? And how much of our conversation did she overhear?
The sound of the guards’ approach comes closer. I dash down the corridor and duck into Markham’s cabin before I’m seen.
The prince blinks in astonishment. “Everley, have you reconsidered my proposal?”
“No—”
The merrows’ singing drowns me out, coming from directly outside the hull. My fingers begin to tremble as a piece of my soul far down inside rattles. The vibration builds to a heady, raw throb. This must be their enchantment at work.
Markham narrows his eyes. “Do you have clock parts for a brain too? I told you to toss the pearl into the sea.”
Even if what he says is true, I could toss the pearl overboard and send the merrows away tonight, but then what will I do when they return tomorrow? Or the night after that? Jamison said not to trust Markham, but the prince can be trusted to protect himself, and for once, we want the same thing. Moreover, the thought of leaving my friends caged below while I return topside to the cabin full of dead clocks is too much to bear unless it is temporary.
Into the Hourglass Page 10