They remained on deck for a while after their conversation died off, enjoying the quiet serenity of the other’s company. The words stayed with her for the rest of the night—like a lullaby—as she
made her way belowdecks to her hammock and fell asleep alongside the rest of them.
Unsurprisingly, she was the first to wake the next morning. Even though the slow and steady rocking of the ship had been a comfortable way to sleep, her mind was too restless to fall into a deeper slumber. She felt like she was at a crossroads—the future impossible to ascertain and yet she wanted, desperately, to grab onto it tightly enough to know it from her current vantage.
All the options kept her from falling back asleep as much as they pinned her to the hammock, their weight unbearable on her chest. Every thought and worry stacked upon the next. She used waiting for the others to rouse as an excuse to not be more hasty.
If Eira had been forced to guess who was going to be the second to wake, Yonlin wouldn’t have been it.
She met his eyes and gave him a quiet “Good morning,” more mouthing the words than saying them aloud.
He swung his feet over the hammock and kept his voice low as well. “Sleep well?”
She nodded rather than being completely honest. Yonlin didn’t need to know all the things that kept her awake at night. She wanted to protect him from those harsh realities as much as possible. Eira grimaced inwardly. She
was becoming her older brother. Olivin had rubbed off on her too much, because all she could see in Yonlin was a younger sibling in need of being protected. Which wasn’t fair to him. Yonlin was a man grown and she wasn’t going to coddle him.
“You?” Eira asked as he stood and stretched. She knew the answer before he said it, given how he had been sleeping with his mouth hanging open, snoring faintly, in an adorably similar pose to his brother when she returned.
He nodded as well. “I’m going to go one deck lower to see the heavy guns. Puck promised to take me this morning. If Olivin wakes up and wonders where I am, will you tell him?” The young man’s excitement at seeing the larger cannons was palpable.
Even though she wanted him involved in the forthcoming decisions on what was to come next for them, she didn’t want to hold Yonlin back from something he would so clearly enjoy. Moreover, she didn’t know when everyone else would wake. So she said, “Certainly. Go and have fun.”
He practically skipped over to Puck’s hammock. Without the slightest amount of fear, Yonlin woke up the fearsome pirate, who—to Eira’s surprise and delight—agreed with much grumbling fanfare to take him right then. Adela’s crew wasn’t nearly as bad as the stories made them out to be.
Or perhaps this “soft spot” Adela had formed for Eira ran deeper and was far more sincere than she expected.
The clanking of wooden bowls and utensils in the galley at the bow was what ultimately began to wake the rest of them. Seeing her friends stirring, Eira made her way over to the galley where breakfast was being passed out by a pirate she didn’t recognize. It was a grain porridge that had been cooked a previous day and rewarmed by Firebearers, likely hastily, given how inconsistent the heat was. Some sections of the porridge were so cold it was in globs. Others so hot it burned her tongue.
None of the pirates she knew made their way over to her, allowing Eira to claim one table in the corner for herself. She wondered if it was out of consideration because they knew their unlikely guests would want to sit together. Or if it was because they were still wary of growing too close to people whose fates were still unclear.
Olivin was the first to make it out of his hammock. Sitting across from her on the bench that was bolted to the floor, he swung his feet over and adjusted his positioning, spoon poised above the bowl.
“Tell me this is shockingly good and I’m going to be surprised at how well Adela’s crew can cook.”
Eira hummed, making a show of thinking for a moment. “You’re certainly going to be surprised.” She swore she heard a hasty prayer to Yargen before he took a bite.
Olivin chewed slowly, his nose scrunching in a look that accurately reflected the texture of the meal. He swallowed hard. “I’m surprised it doesn’t taste worse; I’ll say that much.”
“Bland, but there are far more foul things,” she agreed.
Olivin tilted his spoon, allowing a lump to plop wetly into the bowl before bravely taking another bite. Eira did the same. Adela had made it more than clear that on her vessels they should be grateful for whatever they were given. So Eira ate like it was the only meal she was going to have that day.
“Oh, Yonlin is down with Puck looking at the guns.”
Olivin nodded. “I heard him pestering Puck about it last night. If my brother blows us all up with his fascinations, I am very sorry.”
Eira chuckled. “There’s a dark comedy if, out of everything, what does us in is a friendly accident.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I so rarely am,” she teased with a grin. Olivin snorted.
“So far the rumors of the pirate queen’s bloodthirst seem to be overrated.”
“She has made it a point to regularly remind me that she is, graciously,
letting me—us—live.”
Olivin chewed for a long minute. “‘Letting’ you live? Would she really kill her own daughter?”
A sad smile crossed her lips. But it was a smile. She would grin and bear her pain—smile away the bitterness, anger, and frustration. However cathartic it would be in a moment to rage. It wouldn’t change anything.
“She’s not my mother.”
“What? But I thought you said on the boat…” Olivin tailed off, blinking several times as if the truth was coming into focus. “On the boat I was the one who said she was your mother and you never denied it.”
“Sorry for the deception.” She forced another spoon down, grateful for how long the gruel took to chew. “I didn’t want to lie to you—even a lie of omission. But I was worried that you wouldn’t leave if you knew the truth
and I wanted to keep you safe. And we both know I am not the exemplar of safety.”
Olivin let out a rumbling chuckle that reached deep into the lower registers of his voice. It shifted her smile into something far more sincere. The sound of him was like a cup of honeyed lemon tea. Sweet and warm. Light.
“Well, here I am, wrapped up in it.”
“I know and I am sorry.” Her smile wavered as guilt washed over her.
“You did try to push me away.” He lifted his eyes from his bowl, meeting hers, freezing her in place. Holding her in thrall.
An insatiable urge to reach over and take his fingers in hers, squeezing them, overtook her. It nearly moved her limbs like a puppet on strings. Eira grabbed her bowl tighter, refusing to give in.
“Really, I suppose I should be thanking you.” “Thanking me?” she echoed with surprise.
“Ironically, Adela’s ship might be the safest place in all of Meru’s greater seas—so long as she’s not trying to kill us. You might not believe me, but I might feel safer having Yonlin here than anywhere else. I know Wynry can’t get to him.” He glanced askance, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. A knot tightened in her stomach. “So, thank you, I suppose, for being someone I can’t let go of. Even when I know I should.”
A flush rose through her body, crashing down and pooling in her lower stomach. Eira didn’t force a chill underneath her skin. She didn’t fight it. But, rather, savored the sensation as it passed through her.
But, despite enjoying the emotions and feelings he filled her with, Eira didn’t linger on the subject, instead asking, “Is it that bad on Meru?” He and Yonlin had been traveling by land; they might have more information than she did.
His expression hardened, eyes growing vacant. “Their network runs deeper than we ever expected in the Court of Shadows. They’ve made quick work unseating local leaders and constables.”
“I guess I saw as much in Ofok.”
“Every town we passed while tracking your boat—from the smallest to largest—was like that.”
Eira wondered just how much she’d missed of Meru from the relative safety of Adela’s vessels. But her musings were cut short with the arrival of Noelle and Cullen. The former sat at Eira’s left hand, the latter at her right.
They all willfully ignored the slight tension that immediately took up residence in the silence between Cullen and Olivin. It wasn’t anything overt, but visible in the slight glances they gave each other from the corners of their eyes. The way Cullen greeted Eira and gave Olivin little more than a nod. While she appreciated they weren’t acting out like children, she would’ve preferred if this awkwardness wasn’t there at all.
But ending it resided with her. She was keeping them in limbo with her words and actions. If she’d done a better job of making it clear to either one of them—or both—where she stood, it would end. But just thinking about it made her chest ache and throat tighten. They both had brought her safety and joy. Companionship through hard times. Things that made the idea of giving either of them up after she’d lost so much even more unpalatable than their breakfast.
“How did you sleep, Cullen?” Eira asked, trying to ease the discomfort. If she couldn’t—wouldn’t—outright end it at the moment, the least she could do would be making it more bearable for everyone.
“I slept well, thank you. And you?” When he asked, his eyes searched her expression, no doubt thinking back to how he’d left her last night.
“Well, also.” Eira was saved from having to think of any more safe topics when Lavette and Varren arrived and all the morning etiquette repeated itself.
Unsurprisingly, Alyss was the last one to join them. The last person to get out of their hammock for the whole ship. Noelle ended up dragging her over so she didn’t miss breakfast or the conversation that she really needed to be a part of. Alyss’s delay turned out to be oddly well timed, as it gave Yonlin the opportunity to rejoin the group—brought up by Puck—so he didn’t miss breakfast either.
As soon as all eight of them were crammed onto the benches around the small table by one side of the hull, Lavette wasted no time getting right to the point with the air of authority she usually had around her. An air that Eira had noticed was only growing with time.
“What did Adela say?” she pointedly asked to Eira. “Are we prisoners, forced crew, or guests?”
“I don’t think Adela does ‘forced crew.’” Eira had to consciously stop herself from bristling slightly at the implication of that. She knew the rumors that surrounded Adela and why Lavette would perhaps think that was a possibility.
“So we’re walking dead or guests. Not liking our odds here.” Varren poked at his porridge. It had begun to get hard as it’d grown cold.
“I wouldn’t despair yet,” Eira cautioned hesitantly. She wasn’t sure how much of her conversation with Adela she wanted to share, especially since it ended with a lot still in the air.
“What did she say?” Lavette pressed.
“I didn’t have much of a chance to speak with her about the details. After the long day, she didn’t want much to do with me. You know how she is.” Eira knew Adela wouldn’t appreciate her hinting in any way at her weakened state.
“I don’t ‘know how she is,’ seeing as you’re the only one among us who she spends time with.” Lavette’s expression was calm and collected, as much as her words, but there was an implied edge to them that had Eira bristling. Lavette didn’t trust the connection. That much was still painfully clear.
“However,” Eira continued, ignoring the remark, “I believe we’re going to speak this morning.”
“Just you, or all of us?” Lavette asked. Eira raised both her hands with a small shrug. Lavette folded her arms and leaned back with a sigh. “I’ll just assume it’s only you, given how things have been thus far.”
“I think that is a fair assumption,” Eira reluctantly agreed. It was clear that Lavette was viewing herself as a sort of stand-in delegate for Qwint and Eira didn’t want to offend her. “And Adela could always surprise us…but, in case my suspicion is right, I wanted to speak with you all first thing.” Eira swept her gaze across the table and returned to Lavette first. Hopefully it would signal respect. “I’m going to assume that you want to go back to Qwint as quickly as you’re able?”
Varren started to speak, but Lavette got in a word faster. “Yes.
Absolutely.”
Eira didn’t miss Varren’s moment of tense hesitation. Or the way he looked at Lavette from the corners of his eyes. But he ultimately said nothing and gave a small nod.
“Right, then…” Eira turned to Olivin and Yonlin next. “I assume you both want to return to Meru?”
The two brothers met eyes and exchanged an entire conversation with gestures, shrugs, nods, humming, and short grunts. It brought a small smile to her lips. She remembered the days of terrorizing her parents with Marcus
using plans coordinated without a word. Corroborating alibis with mere glances to get each other out of trouble. The brothers’ presence in their group filled her with a sweet ache. For once, thoughts of Marcus weren’t agony, but an almost dreamy nostalgia. Good memories that she’d suppressed alongside the bad because she didn’t know how to untangle them from the trauma when thoughts of her brother returned to her.
“The most important thing,” Olivin began, “is that we stay together and I keep Yonlin safe.”
“I can look after myself,” Yonlin muttered, clearly offended.
Olivin continued as if his brother said nothing at all, “If I’m being honest, I don’t know if Meru is the safest place for us right now.”
“But your sister—” The words slipped from Eira’s lips before she could stop them. Olivin’s sudden fixation on his empty bowl at the mention of his family’s horror and shame had her hot with guilt at the omission.
Ultimately, he relaxed and said, “The moment I have the chance to go after her, I will.” He threw his arm around Yonlin’s shoulders. “But I almost lost Yonlin once because of her. I won’t risk losing him again.”
Even as certain as Olivin sounded, Eira saw his hesitation. The words were slightly strained. Movements tense. He meant what he said…but a part of him still yearned to go after Wynry right now, a part Eira understood all too well.
Thanks to Ferro, she knew what it was like to watch family die before your eyes and then what it felt like when the murderer walked free. Making any kind of real, long-term peace with that was an impossible emotional demand.
“However, with all that said…I don’t want to run forever. I will have my vengeance. If you are going back to Meru to fight the Pillars then I will fight at your side. If you are returning to Solaris, then we’ll seek to return to Meru before then.” Olivin folded and unfolded his hands. He seemed to be filled with eagerness at the prospect of finally evening the score with Wynry.
The mention of her home, and her plans, shifted Eira’s focus to her friends. “What are you three thinking? Back to Meru to fight, or Solaris for safety?”
Alyss surprised her when she said, “Or somewhere else entirely?” “You don’t want to go back?”
Alyss settled her chin in her palm and tapped the table, staring at nothing. “It’s not that I don’t want to go back. More that I don’t think I need to go back yet. All my life, I have read stories and lived through the tales of others.” She dropped a hand to the satchel at her hip and pulled out a familiar notebook. “I am determined to write my own story now. And I feel like I won’t be able to do that if I spend my entire life in the comforts of everything I know.”
The discontent—the hunger for more—that Eira saw in Alyss in that moment was new, different, and filled her with pride. She didn’t want to linger on it and risk making her friend uncomfortable. But it was noted and warmed her from head to toe.
Instead, Eira turned to Noelle next. “And you?”
“I should think it’s obvious,” she said, “given that the man I am courting, however frustrating he might be in any given moment, is on this ship. I’m not going to leave until I know how things between us end.”
Alyss stared at Noelle as if she were the moon and stars. In a flurry of movement, eyes wide, Alyss had her journal open, furiously grabbing for a pen. Noelle tried to wrest it from her grasp.
“Don’t you dare!”
“But, Noelle, it was so beautiful!” Alyss objected with aching sentimentality. “How could you deny the next great storyteller such inspiration?”
“I am not your inspiration.” For all her annoyance, Noelle was still smirking with one corner of her mouth. If there was one thing Eira was fairly confident that Noelle would enjoy, it was the idea of being immortalized in some kind of written format regardless of how flattering or unflattering, or vulnerable, the portrayal might be.
“So, yes.” Noelle’s tone turned serious as she looked back to Eira. Alyss’s pen darted hastily over the page when Noelle’s gaze was off of her. “I don’t want to be gone from Solaris forever. It will always be my home and at some point I will need to go back—or at least get word to my family so they know I’m all right. My father might slay me if I don’t return the rubies sooner over later. But, for now, I’m still seeing where the winds of destiny blow from, and am riding their currents.”
Alyss continued writing. Noelle was playfully batting at her hand and then correcting the notes, to, at the least, “get the quote right.” They both groaned and laughed at each other, bringing a smile to Eira’s lips.
One that was short-lived as she turned to Cullen. “And you?”
He was silent for a long minute, and when he finally went to speak, he had to clear his throat twice, as if it was hard for him to not only find but form the right words.
“I’ve given it some thought, and come to the conclusion that what I want to do and what I should do are two different things.” He clasped and unclasped his fingers. “I want to stay on this ship and sail past the edge of the map. I want to go into that distant unknown and feel these winds of destiny Noelle is speaking so eloquently of.”
“I am never saying anything again.” Noelle folded her arms in a mock pout as Alyss triumphantly scribbled.
Cullen chuckled, then continued. “But doing that would feel a lot like running. Running from who and what I’m supposed to be. I need to stop taking the easy way out and face these things head on, regardless of how uncomfortable it might be or how afraid of it I am.”
“Good for you,” Lavette said with an approving smile, stealing the words from Eira’s mouth. For the first time in a while, Lavette displayed what looked like genuine, outward warmth for Cullen. It was an expression of understanding shared between two people born and raised to assume the mantle of leadership. Something Eira might never be fully able to understand, and the streak of jealousy that arose at the notion surprised even her.
Eira forced the conversation to continue moving. “So you want to go back, then? To Solaris, or Meru?”
“I wouldn’t say I want to, but, like Noelle, I do think I have to, eventually. Or at least get word back to Solaris,” he said, still reluctant. “I need to go to Meru. I need to see if my father is alive. I can’t abandon him. Not to mention, it’d feel like a slight against Empress Vhalla if I didn’t try and help make things right after all she’s invested in me and taught me. I can’t abandon her, or her family, in their darkest hour.”
“I understand.” For the first time, it seemed as though Cullen was making a decision for himself. Even though he was factoring in and heavily weighing others’ wants, perspectives, and opinions, the decision was still for himself and what he felt he needed to do.
“What about you, Eira?” Lavette asked. “Now that you know where we all stand.”
Eira shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the weight of their stares pressing down on her shoulders so heavy that it put pressure on her hips. She agreed with all their sentiments in different ways. They convinced her of different things, she agreed with some, and she objected to others. But, much like Cullen, after considering everyone else, she had to make the choice for herself.
“I will go back to Meru,” she said finally. “I swore to myself and Ulvarth that I would end this—I wouldn’t let him run free.” Eira’s attention landed back on Olivin and the knowing that filled his gaze. “Like you, I know I should let it go. I should go back to Solaris, or somewhere else, and keep safe. But I can’t. I will never know rest until I end him.”
