He read that over twice. So new ships were being built, and he would have one of them. For a moment he longed to be back on Daystrider, above or beneath the twenty sails he knew as familiarly as he knew his own fingers and toes, watching as the oars lashed the water, but hadn’t he spoken with Julean about burying the past? Hadn’t he encouraged Yerena to change?
Well, that had come back to haunt him with a vengeance. Thank you, Unity, I really appreciate this. But he did need a ship now that Daystrider was gone, and at least the new one had a lively name, even if she didn’t have sails to speak of. Lady Lisabe had been right about everything changing. He had to change along with it or be left floundering in the wake.
Besides, while he still wasn’t enthusiastic about Dagran inventions, he was definitely not in favor of doing nothing while the Dagrans made strides in shipbuilding and weaponry, to the point where their land rather than Denalay was the naval power in Eden. Sooner than see that happen, he’d embrace every technological development that came his way.
Lady Lisabe had been wrong about uniting the Tureans with the mainlanders, though. Even if the scattered islands were brought beneath Denalay’s wing, the Tureans had diverged too much, both in mind and in blood. They could drink from the sea, and soon enough they would change further, perhaps start to breathe underwater. One land, perhaps. One people? Never.
But whatever would happen in the future, he knew his place and his orders for the time being. And said orders didn’t include Alyster, because it was past time for his brother to have his own command. One of the Turean galleys had been too badly damaged to flee with the rest, so its captain had dropped their banners and surrendered the vessel as Hawk Royal and Mistral swept in on either side. She now rode the swells between the two warships, and once she was refitted, Darok thought she would make an addition to the navy. At least until they saw how the prototype designs performed in storms and calm.
He told Kiti of the message, and they talked about the implications of the changes to come. “I’d be sorry to lose the Hawk,” she said. “But there’s something else I’ve wanted to ask you. There’s a rumor the Tureans tried to drown the Seawatch agent who accompanied you, but you commanded the white death as you would have done a dog and it obeyed you, which is how she’s still alive. Is any of that true?”
“Of course.” Darok kept his face blandly serious. “It’s just a shark. They respond well to natural authority.”
Kiti’s eyes narrowed. “Rubbish.”
“If you say so. I suppose my crew could all be mistaken. Actually, now that I come to consider the matter, it’s much more likely that I swam a hundred feet down and carried her up to the surface, chains and all. I daresay this would be beyond the capabilities of any ordinary man, but as you can see—”
“If you were any more full of it, you’d be a chamberpot,” Kiti said, and was gone. Darok tried not to smile. It wasn’t the first rumor spread about him, but it was the most flattering, though Yerena might not see it that way if anyone actually believed her shark would sit up and beg on his say-so.
But the thought of her reminded him of a matter he’d postponed so far. He made himself more comfortable on the quarterdeck and considered her as he would have evaluated a target at sea, gauging the best strategy and angle of approach.
He wanted to marry her, but he wasn’t sure how she would feel about it. She was still loyal to Seawatch, and she’d spent some time talking to Kovir Sea Hammer—conversations that hadn’t included him. Legally, no one could stop her marrying him, but he could imagine Seawatch turning her into as much of a pariah as the rogue operative had been.
If she were to agree, though, his mother would like her. His father might not, but then again, Byren Juell had been disappointed in his oldest son as well. Darok knew his father loved him, and his father had never treated him any differently from his brother and sisters, but he also knew what his father had hoped for in a son. His father was a composer, with the kind of talent that could have won him the patronage of lords in Dagre or Lunacy.
In Denalay, it meant he had honest work that supported his family, but it didn’t earn him widespread accolades, so he had dreamed his sons would someday bring Denalait music to other lands. He wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about sending his daughters into Bleakhaven or Lunacy. Unfortunately Darok couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and Alyster, who could, had wanted to set sail the moment Darok took him aboard a ship. They had ended up traveling a great deal, but not on a mission of introducing the beauty and culture of Denalay to the rest of Eden. A song of an entirely different kind had been in their blood.
And Darok felt sure his father would have wanted him to marry a refined lady-of-the-manor type who could teach her children the difference between a symphony and a concerto. Yerena was the opposite of that in every way, but he knew who he would be happier with, and whom he would be able to satisfy. He finally realized the reason he’d never fallen in love with any of the women he’d bedded was because deep down he’d known that none of them would have wanted to live on board a warship with him.
Not that he blamed them—it could be such a hardscrabble, dirty and dangerous existence, after all, hardly what a sophisticated or even an ordinary woman longed for. But Yerena wouldn’t mind it at all. She had proven her worth on a ship, and she would be much more than only the captain’s wife. She was intelligent without being pretentious, beautiful without needing much assistance in maintaining that beauty, cautious enough to hold him back when he needed it, and strong enough to stand up to anyone.
And she was so very desirable. He thought of her body lithe from swimming, soft dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, hazel eyes dilated with passion. The tattoo he would trace with a fingertip, the scars he would kiss. Oh yes, he wanted to marry her.
Then I might as well ask her. He went belowdecks to the tiny cabin she had been given, and she opened the door at his knock.
“Come in.” She wore the blouse Kiti had lent her—it was striped in black-and-white, the colors crisp against her skin, and while it was a bit large for her, the neckline slipped off one shoulder in a way he didn’t object to at all.
Darok shut the door behind him, but didn’t move otherwise. There was nowhere to sit except the single chair and although they could have shared it, he wanted to maintain at least some decorum until she agreed. Besides, he might need to go down on one knee at the crucial point.
“Is something wrong?” Yerena said.
“Wrong? No, of course not.” He hadn’t realized how serious and intent he’d looked until then. “Um, Yerena.”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps you had better sit down.”
A frown twitched her brows but she did as he said, smoothing her ochre skirt over knees pressed together. She was beginning to look anxious, and Darok decided to go ahead before she thought he had bad news of some sort to impart.
“Yerena.” He wished he’d had at least a little more practice in proposing. “You know I’m very fond of you.” Hell. That came out wrong.
But to his relief, she smiled. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Darok said automatically. “I mean…do you feel the same way about me?”
“Of course.” Yerena looked mildly surprised that he had been in doubt.
This isn’t getting anywhere. Darok switched tactics, realizing that if he kept beating around the bush, Yerena would only be confused. She could read the shark’s mind, not his, and she wasn’t used to coy hints when it came to intimacies. He went to one knee before her.
“Let’s try it this way.” He took her hand in his and her fingers wrapped around his palm. “Yerena, I’m in love with you. Will you marry me?”
She blinked, looking as though he had tossed a glass of water in her face. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to answer right away.” Darok had a feeling he’d proposed a bit too precipitously, and she didn’t exactly seem delighted at the offer. “I just want you to know—well, to know how much
you mean to me, and if you want to talk about matters like children or…” don’t say money, “…or where we’re going to live after we’re married, we can do that.”
“I don’t need to.” Yerena slipped her hand free and drew her fingertips down the back of his hand in a caress before she withdrew it. “Darok, once we return home, I’m going back to Whetstone.”
Darok hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it had never occurred to him that she would return there. He would have understood anything else—if she had asked where they would live or wanted to get permission from Seawatch first—but she sounded completely certain of her chosen course of action, one that would take her away from him for good.
“How long have you been meaning to do that?” he finally asked.
“For some time now.”
Well, that was Yerena all over—no snap judgments for her—but while it wouldn’t have helped to hear he’d been ten minutes too late in proposing, it was even less pleasant to know she’d decided to leave while they had talked and eaten together. He got to his feet.
“Is there anything which would make you reconsider?” He regretted the overly formal words the moment he heard his own voice, but it was better than showing how he really felt.
Yerena looked at him in a way which told him she was trying to figure out what was going through his head, probably making an effort she had never needed when she deciphered a shark’s needs or instincts. “Darok.” Her voice was so gentle he was sure she had seen through his cool response. “I have certain responsibilities in Whetstone that—”
“You don’t have to say any more,” Darok said at once. The last thing he wanted was any pity from her. “I understand.” That wasn’t even a lie, because he finally did understand what she had talked about with Kovir Sea Hammer. Other than his gender and his shark, he was an identical copy of Yerena as she had been when she had come aboard Daystrider.
Whether or not that had been the deciding factor for her, the end result was the same raw, empty place in his chest where she had been, where he thought she would always be. He considered trying to talk her out of it somehow, but what was the point in marrying a woman who had to be convinced and persuaded to do so? He’d played his hand and lost. Nothing further for him there, so he went to the door.
“Wait.” Yerena got up. “I haven’t finished.”
“You don’t need to explain your reasons.” He had to be gracious in defeat, but he needed to recover enough control over himself first. A glass of rum and a private cabin to drink it in might help in that regard. “I’ll be topside if you need me. I mean, if you want to talk to me. About anything else.”
“For the love of the Unity!” Yerena said, and Darok stopped, because he had never heard her sound so annoyed before. Her eyes could have raked sparks from steel. “Sometimes you make me want to shake sense into you. Let’s go topside, because I would like to talk to you and I’d like it even more if you listened.”
After the soft heavy fume of Rosefall, the sea air was clean and crisp. The wind blew from the south. The crew was busy at their work, and at first Yerena regretted leaving the privacy of her cabin. Even if she was out of earshot, she didn’t want to engage in a charged conversation where any stranger could see her face.
Then again, it was safer to stay out of any place where she and Darok had too much privacy, given that her entire supply of bleed-no-more had gone down with Daystrider. She would risk pregnancy if they made love again. Involuntarily she touched her stomach, wondering what it would feel like to have a child who was part of them both.
A rill of music thankfully distracted her from that line of speculation. Alyster was seated on the quarterdeck trying out some new composition on his kithar, and Darok seemed to want to stay well out of his brother’s line of sight. Not that it was difficult with the sails in the way; they were great sheets flaunting their spread-winged hawks and filled with the wind. Yerena went with Darok and glanced over the gunwale out of habit, but the pointed fin was nowhere in sight.
Then again, there was no more need of boats and nets. Her shark had recovered, which made the hammerhead keep its distance.
She had no real interest in the hammerhead—she wasn’t linked to it, and Seawatch didn’t permit trainees to be overly familiar with their own sharks, let alone anyone else’s—but she didn’t want it to be hurt either. She touched her shark’s mind to make sure he felt no territoriality or aggression, then turned back to Darok. He stood beside her, close enough that the loose linen of her sleeve could have brushed his arm if the wind had blown from the west, but he hadn’t said anything since they had reached the deck.
“I’m going back to Whetstone,” she said, “because I know what the official story about Quenlin will be. In his last moments he regretted his treachery and sought the forgiveness of the Unity by bringing the megalodon to destroy the enemies of Denalay.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Darok said.
Yerena smiled inwardly. He could startle her, but she also knew how to make him talk to her again. “It’s what Seawatch will want people to believe. I can support or deny the story.”
“I see.” He looked at her as though sizing her up as an opponent—which was, she supposed, how most of Seawatch would treat her. When they sharpened a weapon too well, the blade cut both ways. “Which will you do?”
“Support it, if Seawatch meets my price. I want the training methods in Whetstone changed a little. No more beatings or mandatory sessions in the black room, and at least acknowledge that playing with the sharks can strengthen our links, rather than turning us into laughing-stocks or teaching them bad habits.”
A corner of his mouth curved up. “Maybe you could persuade Seawatch to pay its operatives, too.”
“Why not? As long as I’m doing the impossible.”
Darok chuckled, but the amusement vanished from his face in one of those mercurial changes of mood. “Yerena, once you’re in Whetstone, Seawatch will have a great deal more power over you. What if you’re held under lock and key until you come to your senses?”
Yerena had considered the possibility, but it felt good to have someone else concerned about her. Though Darok had always been like that. “It’s legal to discipline children, but not to imprison people once they’ve come of age. Even if Seawatch disregards the law to that extent, I don’t think anyone in Whetstone will want to go in fear of our own training pools.” She tilted her head towards the waves. “They can cage me, but not him.”
“Or me,” Darok said. “If they try anything of the sort, send him to Triton Harbor and I’ll know you’re being held prisoner.”
“I will, but don’t worry. Seawatch may condemn me or ostracize me, but that’s the worst they can do—and I don’t think I’m the only person who wants a few changes.”
“It’s a pity Whetstone’s so shrouded in secrecy. It’d be delightful to watch you shake that guild to its foundations without even raising your voice.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you about it,” Yerena said. “Because I’m going back to Whetstone, but I won’t stay there. I’ll always be a part of Seawatch, but Whetstone isn’t where I want to spend the rest of my life.”
He raised a brow. “So you’re cleaning out the old shell before you find a new home?”
“The one will be easier than the other.” She thought of everything she would leave behind, because while Seawatch wouldn’t let go of her, someone of her compromised standards and questionable loyalty wouldn’t be permitted to enter Whetstone again either. The library, her little room with its soft blankets—Whetstone was far enough underground to be cool at nights—and the training pools surrounded by floors damp with condensation, filled with the echoing sigh of the sea against tunnels.
But even they were small compared to all the ocean, sterile compared to what she could have.
“Seawatch doesn’t usually order its operatives to accompany ships, and now I see why,” she said. “I may never be assigned to another vessel. Not officially, anyway.”
<
br /> “Do you want to be?” Darok’s voice was carefully neutral, held taut enough that it didn’t sound like a question.
“No.” Yerena’s heart beat so hard she could barely hear her own words. “What I was trying to tell you earlier is, there are matters in Whetstone that I need to take care of, but once that’s finished I’ll be free to do what I want. And I want to be with you.”
He looked at her as though he could never get enough of doing so, and his hand closed around her wrist. A shiver went through her at the touch, warm and strong, roughened at the palm but gentle as if she was made of glass. She would have recognized his hands if she were blind.
“I don’t know what it’s like to be married,” she said, “but if it’s to you, I’ll do it. Is that considered being in love?”
“That just might be the most ardent response anyone’s made to a proposal.” Amusement danced in his eyes, and all the tension melted away in a grin. “Oh, it’ll be fun living with you.”
“Darok, be serious.” Yerena had thought a confession of the deepest emotion, especially coming from a Seawatch operative, would be treated with a little more dignity. Though she kept wanting to laugh too.
He touched her hair in the gesture she remembered so well, guiding a stray lock behind her ear. “The only thing I’m serious about is marrying you and making a home with you on any ship of mine—or anywhere in Denalay, for that matter. As long as it’s close to the sea.”
“Oh, yes.” Yerena put her hand up to hold his, to cup it against her cheek. He knew her. So that was love—both different and the same as the link she’d treasured for most of her life, awareness and understanding and wanting the best for the one who held her heart. “I love you,” she said, and felt herself smile.
The Deepest Ocean (Eden Series) Page 29