I jerk to a stop before I collide with it. I can’t help myself. The last time I saw him, he had on so much gold.
“Looks like you haven’t gotten your sea legs either,” he says.
I glare at him. “My mother came from Sunisa. I have the sea in my veins.” And it’s true; I feel more alive in the sea breeze than I did during any of the years spent at the palace.
The lapping of the water beneath my feet calls to my blood in a way different from the gold. It isn’t the greedy call to come closer. It’s a gentle sigh that fills my body with each breath. Instead of threatening to harden me in place, the ocean offers a chance at new memories and freedom. A chance I want more than anything.
“You may have Sunisan blood, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to seasickness. They’re both Sunisan”—he nods to where Phipps and Thipps are racing up the rigging toward the crow’s nest and shouting about how the last one there has to take first watch that night—“and they were both sick for a week their first few journeys aboard.”
His superiority grates against me.
I straighten. “I may not have had much opportunity to sail, but clearly I’m suffering no ill effects.”
He transfers his gaze to the horizon. “I think all monarchs should travel, see the way other countries do things. If they see how others live, they may not be so quick to ask for things they don’t need.”
I stiffen. “If you’re referring to The Touch, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” My father wanted gold because he knew war was on the horizon. He wanted to protect his people, to provide for them. Never mind it was his fault the treasury had been depleted in the first place from too many parties thrown at the palace.
“I know what curses can do to people,” he replies. His eyes switch back to me.
“You don’t know anything about my curse.”
“Then tell me.”
I scoff—I’m not falling for that one.
“Or don’t.” He seems disappointed whenever I don’t reveal my most closely guarded secrets. He leans on the railing, strangling his hands around it.
I’m pretty sure our conversation has ended. I turn to leave, but his words call me back.
“I need you to check on the gold.”
That’s the last thing I want to do. Searching for the gold means letting Captain Skulls back in. After my experience in the cabin, his world is not one I am eager to reenter. Especially out here, where everyone will see my reaction. Though if I refuse, Royce will ask why. And I can’t tell him about the vision.
I swallow.
Royce looks at me expectantly. “The gold,” he prompts.
I decide the fastest way to make him go away is to give him what he wants.
I snap my eyes shut. I find the golden aura. I toss it away as soon as I do, but I hear an echoing laugh. A laugh I can only imagine belongs to Captain Skulls.
I jerk backward to get away from the sound and a hand grabs me. My eyes pop open. It takes me a moment to realize that the hand belongs to Royce.
I shake him off and steady myself on the railing. “The gold’s still on the same course.”
It’s unsettling how quickly he reached out to help me. Maybe he really isn’t afraid of me. And that is terrifying. Because the only people I’ve ever met who at least pretended not to fear me were after my father’s money.
“You look flushed,” he says. He eyes my cloak and gloves, as if suggesting I remove them.
I get the eerie feeling that he’s testing me, that he’s still trying to get me to expose my power. I wrap my arms around my chest and recoil from him before he can reach for my hood or my hands. “Your ship is dirty, and I’d rather keep them on.” I stumble over the words, barely managing to force my arms back down to my sides.
He stares at me with curiosity, and I fear I’ve somehow confirmed his suspicions.
He moves closer. “I’ve just heard rumors . . .”
Heat rises in my face. Of course he’s heard rumors. Everyone’s heard them.
All the anger that’s been hiding inside me from every backward glance, every platter shattered by servants distracted by my presence, every gaze my father avoids when I look his way, every moment people scoot away from me in fear bubbles to the surface. “I’m not the only one aboard this ship with rumors about them,” I spit.
To my astonishment, Royce pulls back like I’ve struck him. His eyes harden, then burn as they take in every inch of skin visible beneath my hood. “I wouldn’t bring that up again.” His voice is so calm. So controlled. So cold.
“There you two are.” Aris’s voice cuts through the air.
Royce’s face sours for just a moment before he quickly straightens and backs several steps away.
“Everything all right here?” Aris asks. His eyes swing between Royce’s unemotional face and my flaming one.
“I’m sure it will be,” Royce replies in a cool tone, his eyes never leaving my face.
I swallow whatever reply was forming in my mouth. I doubt Aris, with his easy laugh and welcoming smile, has any idea how dark his friend has become.
If Aris suspects anything, he plays it off with another wide smile. “Well, then you won’t mind if I borrow Kora.” He reaches for my arm before Royce can reply.
I let him pull me away, but I can’t help looking back just once.
Royce’s face is still stoic, but his eyes are bright. The burning fire has faded to glowing embers, embers I’m sure could reignite at any moment.
CHAPTER 9
Aris leads me down the deck. He smiles gently. “I know things got off to a bumpy start on board, and I know this journey must be full of fear and pain for you. It’s certainly not the way you were hoping to explore the world. But we will get your father’s treasure back. And then we will have a real adventure.” He takes my hand in his. A tingling sensation runs up my arm. Unlike the gold, which always threatens to stop my heart, this feeling makes it beat faster. It makes me come alive.
“And,” he continues, “the first thing you need is a smile on your face.”
I try to offer him one, but we can both tell it’s forced. My encounter with Royce left me shaken in a way I’ve never felt before—no one has even spoken to me like that. I can’t decide if I should tell Aris, but I don’t want to taint that friendship for him, not when I know he has so few happy memories. I decide against it, instead bolstering my smile until I feel real happiness creep through me, becoming more powerful the longer I look into his gray eyes.
They’re soft and kind. They take on the reflection of the water around us, turning them a beautiful shade of gray-blue. There’s a brightness to them as well that seems to spill out into all aspects of his personality.
He can’t keep a silly grin off his face. “I knew you’d need a little help.” He cups my chin, then leans closer, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me.
Instead, he says, “That’s why I thought you’d like to dance.” He tilts my head until I can see several of the crew bringing out what I suppose pass for instruments. Thipps holds an accordion that wheezes when it opens and closes. Another sailor has a fiddle. “The men always think dancing on the first day appeases Triton and makes for a safer journey because if Triton’s happy then Poseidon must be. They hope that starting things out on the right foot will carry happiness into the days that lie ahead.”
Aris’s enthusiasm makes me want to say yes, but flashes of Lord Libton, one of my suitors, hightailing it from the dance floor fill my mind. And there’s the fact I can’t dance.
I shake my head.
Aris’s smile falters.
My heart drops. He’s going to think I don’t like him or that I’m ungrateful after all he’s done for me. I cast around for what I can say, how I can explain.
“Aris . . .” I start.
“No, I understand.” He clears his throat, taking my rejection in stride. “It’s only that I think it would be good for you.” His eyes search out mine. “The happiest I’ve ever been
was when I was honored by a local tribe on the smallest of the Polliosaian Islands for saving several of their fishermen who’d been swept out to sea. They threw a great feast and wanted me to dance. I refused because I had no clue how to dance like they did, but do you know what their king said to me? He said, ‘In order to enjoy the dance, you don’t have to know all the steps. You just have to be part of it.’” He looks pointedly at me.
Before I can reply, the music strikes up, and a makeshift dance floor is cleared around the main mast.
Thipps has climbed into the rigging and dangles over all of us. The other musicians have situated themselves on various barrels.
Hettie must’ve gone back downstairs, as I don’t see her on deck. I hope she’s feeling better, but I also don’t want to be in the cabin with her if she’s going to be sick. That probably makes me a terrible cousin, but I try not to dwell on my guilt.
Slowly, other sailors abandon their tasks and take up positions around the musicians. Phipps lounges on a nearby barrel but begins slapping his knee and rising as the tune starts picking up speed. He’s the first one to meander onto the dance floor, where he kicks up his legs and spins in circles.
It isn’t a dance I recognize, but it’s enthralling because he looks so utterly free. He links arms with another sailor and spins around. Several men hoot and holler. Only Brus sits off to one side with his arms crossed. He keeps shooting me glares when he thinks I’m not looking. I ignore him.
Eventually I forget about Brus and everything else, the music loosening the tension I hadn’t known I’d been carrying in my shoulders. Everyone claps along in time with the music, and I join in. I find I can’t help but hope that Aris will ask me to dance once more because he may be right . . . it appears I need this. Don’t I deserve to feel happy? Free?
And as though the universe is making up for my curse all at once, I get my wish. Aris smiles before extending an arm and pulling me onto the dance floor. The men hoot louder. I catch snippets of Thipps and Phipps arguing about who’ll dance with me next.
After a moment to catch the tempo, Aris loops one arm around my waist and takes my hand with his free one. We twirl across the deck like two untouchable stars twinkling as sunlight glints off the sea around us.
A laugh escapes my lips and is taken by the breeze running over the ship. I can barely feel Aris’s arm against my back, and yet it’s there, constant, reassuring, always guiding. I forget about my skin, my gloves, my cloak, my need for anonymity. I lose myself in the moment, happy and free.
We sweep across the deck as the melody heightens. We spin faster and faster. I close my eyes and let the song cast its web over me, knowing that if I stumble, Aris is there.
The music reaches a crescendo. Aris pulls me close. My heart leaps forward in my chest. A grin spreads across his face. He lets me slip backward, leaning with me and catching me in a dip.
His chest touches mine, his face inches away. His eyes have taken on a new energy. His gaze shifts to my lips. We stay frozen in that moment, both breathing hard. He makes the slightest movement forward. I respond. Before our lips meet, a voice cries out from the crowd.
“Demon!”
The moment shatters. Everything shatters. I didn’t realize the music had stopped and that the deck had fallen into silence.
“Demon!” the voice cries with more urgency.
Aris quickly pulls me up. A breeze rustles my hair. My hand snaps to my hood, but it’s pooled around my neck, exposing my skin, exposing me.
“Throw her overboard,” Brus cries. He looks to his fellow sailors for support.
“Triton take us all,” one man curses. Or maybe he meant it as a prayer.
“I’ll take care of this,” Aris soothes. He tries to hide me behind him, while also putting his arms up in a gesture of peace.
“What’s going on?” Royce pushes into the circle. He takes in my fallen hood, and I see understanding click into place on his features.
But to my surprise, Royce doesn’t leap to Brus’s side. “Calm down, Brus,” he says. “This is King Midas’s daughter, and she’s not going to hurt anyone.” He shoots me a look as though to say, Don’t make any sudden movements. “She holds the purse strings for this journey.”
“She’s gotten to the captain too,” Brus shouts. “We’ve got to get her off the ship before she ensnares the rest of us with her magic.”
I open my mouth to protest that I won’t be ensnaring anyone, but I decide it’s better not to draw the men’s attention back to myself now that Royce has it.
Several men grumble and whisper among themselves.
“Look at her,” Brus pleads. “She’s cursed. She’ll curse us all.”
“Go back to your duties,” Royce says, and for once, I’m thankful for his gruff tone. “There’ll be no more dancing.”
The men stand there for a moment, and I can’t decide if they’ll obey him or not. After a few more heartbeats, the men slowly disperse.
Brus gives me a long glare as he stalks off.
I exhale. But it’s not over yet.
“Royce.” Aris steps forward, breathing hard. “Are you really going to let him get away with that?”
If I thought Royce’s eyes held unkindness when they looked at me, they hold pure hatred when they turn on Aris. “Watch yourself, Aris.”
Aris steps forward. “Kora’s life is more valuable than you’ll ever know. And if you can’t keep your crew in check, then I’ll be forced to.”
“I know how valuable she is,” Royce snaps. “Make no mistake about that.” His words cascade like ice over my body. I shiver.
The two men stare at each other for a moment. I sense they might come to blows right there, which I’m pretty sure will end the thinly veiled cooperation toward a common goal that we have now.
As much as I’d like to see the smugness knocked out of Royce, I still need him. I place my arm on Aris’s. He startles, seeming to remember I’m there for the first time.
“I suggest you two head downstairs and stay there while I try and clear this up with the crew,” Royce says. Then he charges off in the direction the men went.
Aris stares after him with a look sharper than a sword blade.
“It’s all right.” I put my hand on his arm to get his attention. The situation could have been much worse.
Aris exhales. “It’s not all right. You could have been hurt.” He swallows.
“I wasn’t,” I say.
“I won’t let anything like that happen again,” he vows. “I want you to feel safe.”
“I do,” I tell him. It’s true—I feel safe when I’m with him, and I never want that feeling to go away.
CHAPTER 10
Hettie and I spend the entire next day cramped inside the cabin. My only respite is when Aris stops by after a shift keeping an eye on Brus and the other sailors.
We pass the time playing Seascapes on an old board I found in Royce’s cabin.
I used to love playing with my father. We’d race to maneuver some of our little carved ships along our respective sides so the other couldn’t invade before sending the rest out to battle across the board. When I was younger, I always used to focus solely on defending my coast. Only under my father’s coaching did I finally learn enough strategy to fight my way to a win.
Aris wins the first three times we play. He always seems to know just when to move a ship to avoid an attack or when to shoot his across the board to attack mine. His strategies always change from game to game. I can never tell when he’ll attack and when he’ll race back to guard one of his ports.
Each game leaves me breathless as I inevitably race to keep my last ship from his grasp long after I already know I’ve lost.
I smile up at him each time we collect our pieces after a finished game. Watching him play reminds me of watching Uncle Pheus play against my father when I was a child. No wonder Uncle Pheus likes Aris so much. They’re both able to see in advance how one move could affect all the other pieces.
Eve
n Hettie, who used to play far more often with her father, only comes close to beating Aris once. And I love that he doesn’t let me win. He challenges me, forces me to think like him in order to stay alive.
When we tire of Seascapes, Aris distracts me by telling me tales from his travels.
He tells me about the time he was nearly trampled by camels in Kalakhosia but was nursed back to health by the sultan’s daughter. He recounts how he climbed to the top of the Iglanic Volcano by himself simply because the locals didn’t think a foreigner could. He tells me about the time he dug for diamonds in Lutina and found one nearly as big as his thumbnail, but his companions attacked him in his sleep, stealing it. He was lucky to make it out alive.
That’s how most of his stories end, with him being lucky to be alive. And I love them. They remind me of how much living a person can do outside the walls of the palace. It’s like having one of my storybooks come to life in front of me, but all too soon Aris rises from his chair and says he better give Royce an update on the gold’s direction.
After Aris leaves, the only other person brave enough to venture down to our cabin is Rhat. Or more precisely, he’s the only one allowed after Phipps and Thipps got in a fight about who could bring us breakfast this morning because they both wanted to see if I turned into a golden statue in my sleep.
When Rhat brings dinner, he makes a big show of placing Hettie’s right in front of her at the desk. If I’m not mistaken, the pile of peas and hard roll are meant to be the eyes on a face completed by a thin strip of salted pork acting as the mouth.
I glance at my plate. The peas have rolled all over the place.
Hettie doesn’t even look up from the piece of rope she pulled from who knows where. She’s been trying for the last hour to imitate the spiraled knot already tied into the top portion.
“I also brought you this,” Rhat says in an attempt to gain her attention. He slaps a pickle onto Hettie’s plate. I’m not sure if it’s meant to be a nose or if that was the only open spot. Green juice oozes out and begins to stain the bottom of the roll.
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