Hettie drops the rope. “Now it’s ruined the bread.” She shoves the plate away.
I suppress a groan.
Rhat shoves the plate back. “No, it makes it taste better. Trust me, you won’t want honey anymore after dipping it in pickle juice.”
Hettie’s mouth hangs open in disgust.
“See.” Rhat breaks off a chunk and shoves it into her gaping mouth before she can protest. She smacks it around a few times looking for something to spit it out in. The more she smacks, the less agitated her face looks. Her cheeks relax, and she actually swallows.
I take a bite of my own roll. It’s a little bland, but palatable.
Rhat beams at Hettie. “I knew you’d like it.”
“I didn’t say I liked it,” Hettie snaps.
“You didn’t spit it out,” he supplies.
“I didn’t want to be rude.” Hettie turns up her nose but takes another bite.
Rhat smiles knowingly. “I could teach you how to tie that rope too, if you wanted.”
Hettie takes another bite out of her roll and looks Rhat up and down. He’s certainly a far cry from the men who frequent the palace, but Hettie seems desperate for any attention. She tosses the rope toward him. “Fine.”
Rhat spends the next hour guiding Hettie’s hands through twists and turns to make different knots with the rope, all the while regaling her with stories about his home island. I can’t tell what he’s making up to impress her and what’s actually true. For her part, Hettie is eating it all up faster than the food she’d stuffed down. Once she tires of the knots, she sits with her elbows on the desk and her chin in her hands. She asks him question after question about every island he’s seen.
It’s only when the ship pitches further to the side and her empty plate clatters to the floor that Rhat rises. “Looks like we’re in for a bit of rough weather.”
Hettie pulls back from the table and her hand goes to her stomach. “How rough?”
I can tell she’s already worried about dinner making a reappearance after she’d barely gotten over her seasickness.
“Just a storm,” Rhat says. “It’s nothing this old ship can’t handle, but I should probably go help fasten down the sails. Is there anything else you need?”
Hettie sits back in her chair. “I could use some water.”
Rhat leaps to obey.
In fact, though the ship continues to tilt more and more to each side, he spends the next ten minutes going back and forth fetching things for Hettie: another pickle, a softer pillow, a blanket that doesn’t scratch so much. Each time he arrives with a bright smile on his face like he’s returned triumphant from some dangerous quest.
“Anything else?” he asks again after arriving with a pair of warm socks, since Hettie didn’t bring any. I bite my tongue before I can blurt out that, technically, she didn’t bring anything.
“No,” Hettie says. “Thank you,” she adds, and I nearly choke.
Hettie being polite? That’s something you don’t see every day.
“My room’s just down the hall if you need anything,” Rhat replies, “but I wouldn’t recommend leaving the cabin with that storm rolling in.” He strolls backward toward the door, nearly tripping over the edge of my trunk. He recovers nicely, his face showing the barest hint of a blush.
I decide I like him. Anyone who can put up with Hettie must have a kind spirit. Though I don’t know what that says about me.
“Good night then,” he says, closing the door behind him.
I notice Hettie staring at the door a moment longer than necessary. She catches me watching her and glares at me. Without a word, she climbs over me and takes the side of the bed next to the wall.
Great. Now if someone’s going to roll out of bed, it’s going to be me. And that’s if Hettie doesn’t kick me out of it first.
But the storm has me too unsettled to sleep, so once I hear Hettie’s breathing settle, I pull out Aris’s journal again.
How are you supposed to overcome a curse that isn’t yours? Does it taint me as I stand here? Will I be the same as my father? Is it already too late? Are all sons destined to repeat their father’s mistakes?
I’ve put out to sea in the hope I can avoid it. I don’t need the manor life anymore. My mother can’t stand the sight of me. I remind her too much of my father. It’s my eyes, she says. If only I didn’t have his eyes.
Now that I am away, I’ve found the sea has given me respite. Its waves crash endlessly against the hull. They’re the only thing that helps me sleep, that chases the nightmares away.
I cross from ocean to ocean and back again just to keep those nightmares away. Every time I sleep on land, the dreams come back.
On the darker nights, I set a course for Lagonia, toward the only person who might understand. But if she’s been locked away, she’s probably no better off than me.
And yet I still fight the urge every time we near that coast to pull in and march up to the palace and demand to see her for myself.
Maybe she’s found a way to keep the nightmares away permanently. Maybe she’s found a way to overcome it all.
Hettie rolls over, knocking into me. I quickly close the journal and shove it under my pillow. Thankfully, Hettie doesn’t wake, and I blow out the candle and snuggle down farther beneath the covers, reveling in the fact that Aris has been thinking about me. He doesn’t see me as a curse, but as someone strong enough to help him.
Though the moment my head hits the pillow, thoughts of Aris are replaced with Captain Skulls. If I close my eyes, will I see him in my dreams again? My stomach churns. I’d slept fitfully last night, nightmares waking me more often than they had at the palace.
Above my head, rain pelts the window. Tendrils of wind scrape across the glass looking for a way in. The ship pitches, causing Hettie to roll back into me, but I’m glad she’s here for once. Constantly shoving her back to her side of the bed keeps me awake.
The books on the shelf whisper back and forth.
The ship dips again and Hettie crashes full force against me. The blow sends me spiraling off the edge of the bed, and I land on the wood with a thump. Hettie doesn’t even wake up. She rolls back to her side as the ship tilts in the opposite direction.
When I make it to my feet, lightning illuminates her sleeping form. In the few moments of my absence, she’s taken over the bed, lying spread-eagle in the middle. I sigh and contemplate shoving her once more. But I’m too tired for that fight.
And if I wake her up, I’ll never hear the end of it tomorrow.
I decide air is what I need after being stuck in the stuffy cabin all day. I know Rhat said not to leave the cabin, but nothing too bad can happen if I only step outside our door.
I slip into the darkened hallway. Either the lanterns haven’t been lit or the bursts of wind let in by sailors going in and out to the deck have extinguished them. I decide it’s the second reason when the ship jolts, causing a small puddle of water to trickle over my feet.
At least it’s cool here. And quiet. I relax against the wall.
I rub my side, where Hettie’s already kicked me twice. There’ll be bruises in the morning. They’ll probably be as deep purple-gold as the circles under my eyes will be if I don’t find a way to sleep.
I rub my neck.
The water running over my feet has gone from comforting to cold. I’m about to head back into the room and force Hettie to move when I notice a light down the hallway and hear hushed voices.
I can only imagine they’re talking about me. What else on this ship is worth talking about in the dark in the middle of the night?
I creep closer to the shaft of light, careful to spread my weight out so any sharp dips don’t send me crashing into the wall and give away my presence.
The hallway on the other side of the door is darker than where I’m standing. It’d be easier to hide in, but I can’t risk darting past the door.
I stay well back from the door and peer forward. I can only make out the back of one
of the men inside. It’s Rhat. I can tell by his hair.
I relax. I bet he’s mooning over Hettie. That I don’t need to hear. I almost turn back, but Royce’s voice freezes me in place.
“. . . part of the plan all along.”
I catch sight of his hands through the crack in the door. He’s weighing a coin in his hand. A gold coin. It must be what he was rubbing between his fingers when I first saw him.
“Get her out of the palace and see what she can do.”
“It’s so risky,” Rhat replies. “You don’t know why she was locked up. Killing her would be the easier option.”
My heart stops.
“Unless the rumors are true,” Royce says. He tosses the coin back and forth between his palms as he continues. “The princess would be worth more alive then.”
I clench my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. My shoulder knocks against the wall as the ship drops beneath me.
The coin stills in Royce’s hands. Rhat turns his head halfway toward the noise, but stops when he hears nothing more.
I’m surprised he can’t hear my heart thudding against my ribs. It’s all I can hear. I don’t know how much longer it has left to beat. Not long if Royce decides I’m not worth keeping alive.
I scan the hallway. Not only is it too dark to see the doorways that line it, but I don’t know which one is Aris’s. I can’t risk barging in on another group of sailors, of Royce’s men.
I fight the urge to flee to my room, but this isn’t a dream. The danger won’t disappear come morning. I quiet my breathing. If I’m going to figure a way out of this, then I’ll need to know what they’re planning.
I’ve missed part of the conversation.
“There’s always ransom,” Rhat says almost gleefully.
Royce scoffs. “There hasn’t been money in years.” He moves some heavy object I can’t see.
Would Uncle Pheus even pay the ransom if we did have it? He can’t. As much as he may care for me, I’m no use to anyone there.
“What do we do with Aris? We can’t risk him getting back to Lagonia.” Rhat pauses. “I know he was your friend once.”
“Was,” Royce replies. It’s the most chilling word I’ve ever heard. “All that’s left are the usual choices.”
Somewhere to my left, a floorboard creaks. My head snaps in that direction, but it’s impossible to see anything in the dark.
I’m not the only one who heard it. Once again, Rhat’s head cocks toward the door. One more sound and I know he’ll come out to investigate.
I hold my breath.
Silence.
The conversation continues.
“Murder or being marooned on an island?” Rhat shakes his head. “That’s not much of a choice.”
“He didn’t leave us a choice once he brought her aboard, but we’ll deal with that when he becomes a problem. I want to figure out how he’s . . .”
Creak.
This time the noise is too loud to be ignored.
Inside the room, chairs screech across the floor, and then I’m running. Heavy footfalls pound after me.
I take off down the corridor and blindly race toward my room, praying the darkness conceals me. But with my skin glistening ever so softly, I know I’m visible to whoever’s behind me.
The ship heaves, and I crash into the wall. The railing digs into my back. As the ship rolls back to the other side, I’m thrown again. I wind up on my knees with water seeping through my nightgown.
The footfalls grow closer. My heart feels like it might beat out of my chest.
I stumble toward my door and throw it open, rushing inside. Half woken by the noise, Hettie snorts and rolls over.
I ignore her, heaving my weight against the door and sliding the bolt into place. The wood bites into my palms braced against it.
One set of footsteps goes past my room.
Another stops outside.
I hold my breath.
The boots scuff closer. I close my eyes, willing my heart to slow down.
Finally, the shoes scrape back the way they came.
I exhale. I lean back against the wood. My head throbs, and it won’t be long until the bruises I acquired tripping down the hall do the same.
CHAPTER 11
I change into dry clothes and slide into bed next to Hettie. How am I going to tell her about Rhat? Or worse, Royce? How will we get off the ship? I’d seen some longboats lashed to the deck. I could wake Hettie, find Aris, and we could make a run for it. I’m just about to reach for her when the ship lurches again, sending Hettie spiraling into my side.
The storm.
I’d forgotten about the storm. We can’t take a small boat out in this. We’d drown for sure.
We’ll have to wait until tomorrow night.
But then another thought crushes me. What about the gold? How many days will we lose floating in the ocean? How will we get another ship?
I gently shake Hettie awake.
She nearly smacks me in the face as she sits up, bewildered. “Are we sinking?” She blinks, frantically looking around for signs of water flooding the cabin.
“No.” I sigh. “But we need to get off this boat.” I explain what I overheard.
Hettie lets out a low whistle and sinks back against the wall when I’m done. “Are you sure that’s what you heard? Maybe you dreamed it.” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice.
“I didn’t dream up my sopping nightgown over there,” I say.
Hettie looks visibly shaken. “And you’re sure you heard Rhat talking with Royce?”
I nod.
“I just don’t believe it.” She runs her hands through her hair. “How could they do that?”
“There are a lot of greedy people in the world,” I reply.
Hettie crosses her arms over her chest. “Maybe I should try to get closer to Rhat, to find out for sure.”
I shake my head, wondering if she is more worried about losing her flirtation with Rhat or losing me. “That’s too dangerous. Besides, we need to get off this boat as soon as possible.”
Hettie looks out the window at the rain pouring down. “Well, we’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ll talk to Aris in the morning, and we’ll figure something out.”
“Aris?” Hettie’s eyebrows shoot up.
I blush. “Duke Wystlinos.”
Hettie smirks. Even in the midst of a crisis, she can’t let the latest gossip go. “Well, then the best thing we can do is get some sleep so we can think straight in the morning, when you and Aris and I need to come up with a plan.”
I ignore her tone and nod, but I doubt I’ll sleep much.
I rise before Hettie. I don’t bother pulling on a cloak after I slip on an airy pink dress. It’s pointless now.
I wait until I hear multiple sets of footsteps above me before venturing out of the cabin. I pray I can find Aris before I run into Royce or Rhat or Brus.
Warm air hits me above deck. The sea has long since calmed, returning to its glassy appearance. A few spindly clouds puff across the sky, and it’d almost be an ideal setting if the ship in front of me wasn’t such a mess.
Gaps in the railing mark the departure spots of whatever got washed overboard. Fabric shreds hang limply from several of the sails, and ropes strangle poles or lay lifeless on the deck. Even the crow’s nest sits slightly askew atop its perch.
I’m not in much better shape myself. Not only do bruises taint my arms and race down my knees, but my back feels as stiff as the mast. Or at least as stiff as the mast was yesterday, before the storm hit it. Now I’m not sure if it’s off kilter or if everything around it is.
Royce barks orders across the boat, and men scurry to obey. He disappears beneath deck before he sees me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I stray a bit farther out onto the deck, searching for Aris, but he’s nowhere to be found.
Then a voice calls, “Get her now.”
Hands seize me.
I’m violently jerked
sideways. Several bodies, all smelling as if they’ve baked too long in the sun, surround me. I try to scream. A dirty rag is shoved into my mouth. It tastes like sweat and wood.
“Don’t touch her skin,” someone calls.
Rough hands yank my arms nearly out of their sockets as I’m propelled across the deck. I kick and throw my elbows around, finally connecting with something. I hear a grunt before another hand tightens around me.
Two men, one on either side, pull me to the opposite side of the deck, where a large triangular portion of a sail dangles limply, acting as an effective curtain.
“Don’t look her in the eye,” a voice says. Brus. He appears before me just as the fallen sail conceals us from the rest of the deck.
“Maybe we should cut her hair off before we throw her overboard,” another sailor says. Our progress toward the railing slows. “That’s got to be worth something.”
“Do you want to be cursed?” Brus says. “Stick to the plan.”
I thrash around in my captor’s grip, trying to scream, but it only comes out as a gurgle.
“See, she’s trying to cast a spell on us,” Brus says. “Throw her overboard. Let Poseidon deal with her.”
Hands yank me upward, and the railing rears as my feet leave the deck. Waves crash against the side of the boat.
“Let her go.” The dangling sail gets ripped away to reveal Royce.
My chest crashes into the railing as the men hesitate. If hands weren’t holding me up, I’d be doubled over in pain.
“We’ve got to get the demon off the ship,” Brus says, stepping forward. “That storm last night was unnatural.”
Rhat, Thipps, Phipps, and a few other sailors gather behind Royce. They all have their swords drawn, facing my captors.
“Let her go,” Royce says again.
“You should’ve told us she was cursed,” Brus continues. “We didn’t want to help her in the first place, and if we’d known what she was, we’d never have left Lagonia.” He spits at Royce’s feet before turning back to his men. “Throw her over before she curses us.”
I brace for their rough hands, but Royce’s next words stop them.
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