Above the Storm

by JMD Reid

  She hated them. Constant drills were run, never giving Chaylene a moment to relax or rest. Every bit of the ship was taken up with supplies and equipment. The crew even had to sleep in three shifts. Summer’s heat made her swelter in the hold and boil on deck.

  “Yeah,” Ary yawned.

  He looked as tired as she felt. The Sergeant-Major had forced the marines to repeat the combat ready drills all night, their discharges lighting up the darkened skies. Plus the Zzuki stalked the deck on their disgusting, scaled feet. She had trouble sleeping sometimes listening to their claws clicking above her, the planks straining against their bulk.

  One strode by and hissed at her husband.

  “Morning, Shwaazth,” Ary nodded at the scaly, blue thing.

  “Did he have to hiss at us?” Chaylene muttered.

  “She,” Ary corrected. “Shwaazth’s a female.”

  “How can you tell? She looks like the males.”

  “She told me.”

  Chaylene wanted to say something acerbic, but her mind was too sleep-addled to focus on hating the lizards. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  “Can’t. I’m on duty.”

  Her eyes closed. Sleeping against his solid frame sounded wonderful.

  “Private Jayne,” growled the Bosun. “Cap’n wants to see you in her quarters.”

  Chaylene’s eyes shot open, her blood chilling.

  “Right away, Bosun,” Ary nodded to the one-eyed woman.

  The Bosun scowled at the pair of them. “I don’t care how married you are. This is the Navy. If you pair want to canoodle, don’t do it on deck.”

  “Sorry, Bosun,” Chaylene muttered then whispered to her husband, “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Ary swallowed and his shoulders tensed. The captain didn’t summon the crew to her quarters for pleasant chats over tea.

  Ary marched straight-backed like a good marine, his boots thumping on the wooden deck as he followed the barefoot Bosun. Only the marines and the officers wore their boots on the ship. The sailors and scouts went barefoot so they could climb the rigging easier. He passed through the narrow door that led to the officers’ cabins beneath the stern deck. Chaylene rubbed her hands together as fear prickled her skin. She so desperately needed sleep, but her mind raced with worry. What infraction had her husband committed? What would be the punishment?

  “Ain’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Zori asked, sidling up to her.

  “Ary was just summoned to the captain’s quarters.”

  “Oh.” There was a cautious pause. “I’m sure Ary will be fine.”

  Chaylene nodded, her words tight in her throat. What could he have done wrong?

  “I mean, he’s got them thick arms. And I bet the captain’s the type of woman who appreciates a nice set of shoulders.”

  “Zori,” Chaylene gasped, shooting her friend a look. A wicked smile painted the petite woman’s face. “She wouldn’t.”

  Ailsuimnae gave a snort of laughter as she joined them; her dark-brown face looked rested. She must have just awakened. “I very much doubt Captain Dhar would do that.”

  “She’s got the room all to herself,” shrugged Zori.

  “That’s not funny, Zori,” Chaylene huffed. “Ary wouldn’t do that.”

  “Just like you wouldn’t with Vel.”

  Her cheeks heated. “I would never!” But her protest felt weak, a feeble gust instead of a strong breeze.

  “Then why are you still sneaking off at night?”

  “I don’t sneak off.” Chaylene lifted her chin. “And we only talk.”

  “But you wanna do more.” Zori’s grin grew sly.

  Chaylene bit her lip, fearing to answer. She had hardly thought of Vel the last six days, but hearing his name swirled her emotions into dandelion fluff dancing through her mind. Her tongue moistened her dry lips.

  Ailsuimnae shrugged. “It’s none of our business what you do with Vel.”

  Chaylene’s cheeks smoldered. “We just talk. Nothing more.”

  “Right.” Zori giggled. “That’s all I do on my walks with Guts. Talk.”

  “Well, when I say talk, that’s all I mean.”

  “If I was walking with Vel, I’d be doing more than talk,” Ailsuimnae said. “Those eyes of his are intense.”

  “Don’t forget his backside,” Zori said. “What did you say about it?”

  “The man fills out his britches nicely,” Ailsuimnae answered, her voice throaty.

  “Yeah,” Chaylene admitted, being honest with her friends.

  Ailsuimnae’s face grew serious. “I heard Xoshia and Ahneil whispering about your walks last watch. Ahneil claims you’re doing a lot more than talking.”

  “Well, I’m not.” She frowned, staring daggers at Ahneil as she lounged against the gunwale speaking with Guts and Estan. “But I want to. I . . . I think I might love him.”

  “And Ary?”

  “I love him, too.” She swallowed. “It’s so complicated. Vel thinks that Ary doesn’t love me. And the way he’s been acting lately . . . Sometimes I think Ary only pities me. Other times, I think he loves me with all his heart. I wish I could see into his mind, hear his thoughts, then I’d know for certain.”

  “So, which one do you love more?” Ailsuimnae asked.

  Chaylene squirmed. The question should have been easy to answer. Her heart should scream it loud, beating with the name of the man she loved. But . . . Ary thudded on one beat and Vel on the other. “I should love only Ary.”

  “Should is not a word that comes before love,” Zori said.

  “Well, I married him.” Chaylene worried her lip. “But when I’m around Vel, he makes me feel desired, needed. In ways that Ary doesn’t. Ary doesn’t need me.” She blinked in the realization of her words. He didn’t need her. But she wanted to be needed by him, to care for him. He used to share everything with her, but now . . .

  Now he didn’t need to. He carried the burden of his dreams alone.

  “He could survive without me, but Vel . . . Vel burns with me. I fuel him.” A shiver ran through her.

  Ailsuimnae cocked her head. “That’s why you think Ary doesn’t love you?”

  “I don’t know. It feels like he does.” A smile crossed Chaylene’s lips. “He rubs my shoulders when I’m tired and massages my head when it aches. The pain always fades away just from his warm touch. When we were kids, he’d thrash any boys who called me a hussy or trollop, or when we were older, those who’d boast about paying my ma a visit with a bottle of orange wine. He always liked to listen to me talk about the stars.” A laugh spilled from her lips, tinged with her exhaustion and verging on a shrillness. “He’d never remember anything about them. If it wasn’t about war, Ary always forgot. Except one.” She stared down at her hands, where callouses marred slender tips. “He promised to always chase me like Bronith chases Eyia. For eternity.”

  “Ooh, my fella back home never promised that,” Ailsuimnae said, her eyes dewy.

  Chaylene’s smile fell. Other memories intruded. “When my ma died, he built her pyre. I didn’t ask to him. I didn’t expect him to do it. He just did it. He knew no one else would help me. He was there with me all day.”

  Ash drifting on wind, Ary saying, “She’s with your pa now, Lena. Look at her dance on the wind, rising up to Riasruo’s sun. She’s happy again.”

  Emotion stung her eyes. “Ary never thought she was a hussy.”

  “What about Vel?” Zori asked. “Where was he that day?”

  Scowling, Chaylene answered. “Goodwife Tloan didn’t like her son associating with someone with hot, Vaarckthian blood.”

  Ailsuimnae snorted, her head shaking. “I heard that all my life. Vionese girls would say that, then the things they’d do at night . . . At least I never snuck out on my fella to roll in a different hay pile.”

  “Yeah, there were a few girls like that back at Isfe. Especially with Vel.” I never did that. Pride stiffened her spine.

  Zo
ri, her eyes pressing at Chaylene, a serious tightness about her brow that lessened the childishness of her round face, asked, “So why do you think you love Vel?”

  Desire flared. “Because I want to be with him. He makes me smile. He wants me. And needs me. So much more than Ary. Vel’s so desperate to have me. I’m his entire sky, all the stars and the moons shimmering down on him.”

  “And Ary has you,” Ailsuimnae said. “Which makes you out of reach for Vel, just like those stars.”

  “Well, just because you wanna tumble him, doesn’t mean you love him,” Zori said. “I’ve been with my share of men. A few I even thought I loved.” A wicked smile, more at home on Zori’s face than the serious expression, blossomed. “I enjoyed them all.”

  Her smoldering laugh added wood to the fire burning Chaylene’s cheeks. Is this what my mother thought when, if, she was down at the Watch “washing” the sailors’ clothes?

  “But only with the first few did I confuse that passion for love,” continued Zori. “It burns fast, hot, but the coals cool just as fast. I bet if you blaze with Vel a few times, you’d get bored of him. Realize it wasn’t love.”

  “But what if I do love him?” Her real question, “What if I married the wrong man?” hung in the air.

  Unnatural seriousness returned to Zori. “Why’d you pick Ary?”

  Chaylene blinked. “Because we were all but promised. And then he enlisted to be with me. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Zori waved her hand. “No, they both proposed on the same day, but you accepted Ary’s and rejected Vel’s. You didn’t have to marry Ary. You could’ve married Vel. Why?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” Chaylene furrowed her brow. “Vel’s proposal just confused me. I was still reeling from being drafted when he kissed me and said he loved me. And then Ary came up, pulled out the moonflower, and proposed, staring up at me with such warmth in his eyes. They became this deep shade of red. I was just so . . .” Her mouth worked, searching for the words to crystallize the nebulous emotions gusting through her confused thoughts. “I don’t know, I was just so joyful. This light shone in me. It was like . . . like I was blind and then suddenly the sun rose, and it was so glorious. I was so happy, I didn’t even think. I just agreed to be his wife.”

  “But you thought about Vel’s proposal.” Zori bored her eyes deep into Chaylene’s. “I mean, you were there, in the alley, your lips burning from his kiss, your body all aquiver, and he was offering to marry you. To be with you in the Navy. And you thought about it. This made the decision.” She tapped Chaylene’s forehead with a fingertip. “But when Ary asked, this made the decision.” She jabbed her finger into Chaylene’s breast, bringing a wince. “It’s Ary you love.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t need you to be his universe the way Vel does. Maybe he just doesn’t fan your coals as hot, but he’s the man who will keep your fires from dying day after day. Because he gives you more than that blazing heat. It’s why you haven’t bedded Vel. You love Ary. But you also like that feeling Vel gives you. It’s nice. It makes you do stupid things.” Zori gave an earthy laugh. “Wonderfully wicked and stupid things.”

  “Because I’ve got Vaarckthian blood,” sighed Chaylene, staring at her coal-black skin, scorched dark.

  Zori snorted. “I don’t have a drop of Vaarckthian blood, and I know what you’re talking ‘bout. That desire kindling for a boy, even if there’s another fella in your heart. It’s just being Human. Maybe it’d be nice if we only felt that heat for the one we love. But don’t go blaming your blood for your actions. Take responsibility. It’s really your choice. You can enjoy Vel until you get bored of him and keep risking the love of your man, or decide you can control yourself. That you’re stronger than your fires.”

  Ailsuimnae took Chaylene’s hand, saying, “We’ll be here no matter what.”

  Chaylene smiled, her thoughts pondering their words. She always believed, at some level, her blood was different. After all, her skin was. Though she had her Vionese father’s hair, she had flesh only a shade lighter than her ma. When she felt the heat for Vel, blaming her blood took away the guilt. It’s not my fault, it’s the blood’s, she used to think. But now she realized she controlled her body. Her actions. She had a mind that could think and reason. She wasn’t a beast dominated by instinct. She was more than a fish flying through the skies or the shark lurking above, hungering. If she relied only on her instincts, she would have abandoned him in the fire.

  She had the strength to risk her own life to save his then. Denying her desires for Vel had to be easier than that. I risked my life to save Ary’s.

  Her gaze wandered to the door to the officer quarters. Her stomach fluttered, a school of eel writhing in a tangle mess and churning her acids. I’m worried for Ary, she realized. But have I ever worried about Vel? He’s in the Navy, too. He could die as easily as Ary.

  Her eyes closed, letting her thoughts drift to what she craved most: freedom. Escape. Flying on Whitesocks, seeing the skies, leaving Isfe as far behind. Ary’s strong arms around her waist, holding her as they soared through the night, the stars blazing above them.

  “What’s that constellation?” Ary asked in her fantasy, curious to know. To hear her knowledge, like he did at the teahouse when she held her talks with Estan. He cared because she did. Tears stung her eyes, older memories dredged out of the mud of the past.

  Six years ago, in mid-spring, she fled her hovel, her ma drank, shouting, “Don’t fall in love with a Navy man. They’ll take him! You hear me, girl?”

  The bottle crashed against the door closing behind her. The dark swallowed her. Ahead lay her hill and above, her friends. The grass whipped at her bare feet and ankles, lashing dew across her skin. She reached the top of the hill and . . .

  Ary sat there, legs folded against his chest. Without looking at her, he said, “Hey.”

  “Ary?” A hasty hand wiped at her tears.

  Ary’s bigger hand rubbed at his cheek, wet tracks carved through dirt stains gleaming in red moonlight. He stared at her, his eyes raw.

  “Why are you here?” She sat down beside him, the dew bleeding through her slip to soak her backside.

  He shrugged.

  “Your ma?” The specter of the choking plague had passed Isfe last month, but many homes had fresh urns planted in their asheries. Including Ary’s.

  His shoulders spasmed. Never had Chaylene witnessed Ary cry. Not when he fought with other boys, bloodying noses and bruising faces. Not during his pa’s cremation. She’d seen his pain tightening his face, tensing shoulders, balling fists, but he held it in. Even when his ma screamed at him in the market.

  His tears frightened her. None were stronger than Ary. Her slender arms went around his shoulders, pulling him close. His arms clung to her, strengthened by three seasons of doing a man’s work. Tears soaked her neck. The pain which drove her from the hovel evaporated.

  “Sh-she . . . . She says I’m cursed, Lena,” Ary sobbed, voice cracking, her fingers brushing tears from his cheek. “Said Theisseg touched me and . . .”

  “Of course Theisseg didn’t,” she objected. “You’re not cursed, Ary.”

  “But wh-what if I am cursed?”

  “Why would you think that?” Something dark beat in her breast, something ugly, destructive. She sneered. “Because your ma said it?”

  “What if I killed Srias?”

  “You didn’t kill her!”

  Pain stared back at her.

  “But what if I did?” He trembled, hands seizing her shoulders in shaky grasps. “What if Theisseg tainted me? I was out in the Cyclone. I . . .” Fresh tears fell down his cheek.

  “No!” Granite buttressed her words. “No, you’re not tainted. You didn’t kill Srias. The choking plague killed her. It almost killed you.”

  “But . . .” Ary swallowed.

  “What?”

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Nothing. Just . . . Just more of Ma’s. . . .”

  “Don’t ever listen to her
, Ary! I know you. You’re not cursed.” Then she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, tasting salt. “I wouldn’t kiss a cursed person.”

  Something akin to awe filled Ary’s boyish face. Chaylene’s cheeks grew warm. A nascent stir rippled through her nethers, and her heart beat faster. Her eyes focused on Ary’s lips, thoughts drifting to other places to kiss him . . .

  Ary sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You can always come talk to me.”

  “But why are you out here, though?”

  She shoved her shift down past her knees, her cheeks growing warmer. “Just . . . watching the stars. I like to when ma . . . When she’s in her wine.”

  “Tell me about them,” Ary said, a big grin on his face.

  “Really?” She frowned. “You never paid attention in school.”

  “School was boring.” He stretched out on his back. “What’s that one?”

  His finger stabbed into the air, poking at Chaylene’s favorite. “Eyia and Bronith!”

  As she told the story, Ary’s hand took hers. For the first time, Chaylene felt away from Isfe, from her ma, from it all, free as they voyaged across the dark sky.

  Chaylene wiped at her eyes as she remembered that night. The Dauntless creaked around her, reminding her she wasn’t alone. She sniffed, realizing she was wrong. Ary did need her that night. He could be weak around her. Circumstances had forced him into a man’s responsibility, to be strong for his brother and sister, for his family farm. And, in a way, for his ma. He made himself granite. And he trusted only her to patch any cracks.

  And he needed her now. Something lurked in him, something trapped. She didn’t know how she’d help, but she had to. She could be strong, would be strong, for Ary. And for herself. Because she did love him. She feared for him, cared for him, wanted the best for him. She wanted to escape the Navy, to see the world, to start something new with him.

  And Vel . . . His embrace promised only temporary freedom from her burdens. She could be weak in his arms, bury her pain in a few moments of gasping pleasure, and forever destroy the foundations of a better future.