4. Unnoticed
With a frightened shriek, I clutched the rope with my knees and ankles and dragged myself forward. I moved so fast the fibers cut my palms and legs.
It stung.But those teeth slicing into my flesh would be worse.
Dread slicked through me. I couldn't move fast enough.
The monster lunged out of the water, seizing the rope as it rose up in the air. The sturdy fibers were nothing against the razor-sharp teeth of the creature, and the rope snapped as soon as it pulled taut.
A gasp choked me—then I crashed into the salty waves, clinging to the knotted rope. Cold waters rushed around me, filling my nose and my mouth. My hearing went dull, my mouth sharp with the salty tang of the sea and fear. The force almost ripped the rope from my hands. Kicking furiously, I fought to reach the surface far above and forced my eyes open.
The salt water stung my eyes, but the enormous dark form of the sea monster filled my vision. It was sinking back down now. Its glowing red eye homed in on me.
No!
I kicked and clutched, clawing along the rope as my only lifeline.
Another dark form shot up. Longer. Serpentine. An enormous yellow-and-green striped eel with ferocious eyes and massive jaws. The bright-green eyes opened but focused on the sea monster.
Corvin.
He'd been a thorn in my side, but I wasn't going to pretend I wasn't happy to see him now. Even if that eel form was utterly terrifying.
He struck the reptilian sea monster in the stomach with his head. The sea monster let out a vibrating croak that filled my ears despite the pressure of the water.
I emerged from the water and gasped for breath, clutching the rope tight. The ship was only a few lengths away. Kicking, I started to swim, keeping my grip on the rope tight.
The sea monster dove down again, its dark shape vanishing, a trail of blood spiraling up from it.
My hand struck the side of the ship, and I gasped with relief. The salt water burned my cuts and scrapes, but tears of joy rolled down my cheeks.
Almost there!
Corvin swam to the surface as I slowly scaled the side of the ship. "You didn't let go," he said, a note of respect in his voice. "Disappointed as I am that I didn't get to hold you, I've got to admit you impressed me, Mena."
I gulped in another breath. My whole body ached, and my clothes weighed me down. It took every ounce of strength and focus for me to drag myself up.
Water ran out of my skirt and bodice. The ship rocked in the waves, and the steady, thudding knocks of the wheels in the hold filled my ears and vibrated against my chest. "Glad—I—could be—amusing, you—son of a—scallop."
His uproarious laugh reached my ears.
Nope. Not looking back at him. All that mattered was getting up.
"Glad to see my clever darling isn't losing her spirit just because she took a dip in the sea." He pressed his hand against the hull and stared up at me. Admiration glinted in his eyes along with the hunger.
"I'm not yours," I sputtered. "I'm my own woman."
"You most certainly are." He grinned. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
My muscles strained as I reached the top. The heavy beat of the wheels and gears below deck seemed louder. I flung my arm over the first ledge and hauled myself to the railing.
Finally!
Corvin chuckled below. "You're a strange one, Mena. And strange things will follow you wherever you go."
Huffing, I heaved myself over the railing and collapsed in a puddle of water and fabric. I then twisted around, staggered up, and leaned against the railing. "As long as you aren't the one following me, I can manage that," I said as gruffly as I could.
He laughed heartily. "I can't guarantee that, darling, now can I?"
"Listen." I scrubbed my hand across my face. "Thank you for helping me with the sea monster. But I don't owe you a thing, understand?"
He grinned as he swam alongside the ship. "One might say saving your life counts as you owing me something of my choosing. Unless you've got a reason that you wouldn't owe me."
"I wouldn't have needed help if you hadn't been toying with me." I gulped in another burning breath. My knees felt like they were about to give out. "And I did try to save your otter."
"Yes, you did, clever girl." That smile of his went crooked again and made my stomach twist. He tapped his hand to his brow. "Of course, all this would have been entirely unnecessary if you'd just let me carry you in my arms to your ship."
"Not going to happen."
"Fair enough. I might not have been able to resist the temptation to keep you." That sharp, hungry look of his intensified. Then he shook his head. Somehow his curls were still dry and perfect, half covering his eyes. "I wish you all the best in the search to find your sister. Perhaps we'll meet again soon, and I'll carry you off yet."
With that, he dove down.
I started to draw back when a sharp chirping and trilling sounded at the hull. Glancing back down, I couldn't resist the smile that sprang to my lips.
Tagger bobbed in the waves on his back, the other end of the rope in his hands. It must have come free from the stone spire and fallen out of the sea monster's mouth.
Quirking my mouth up, I dragged the ragged end of the rope toward Tagger. The magic woven into the rope sprang to life, sending up a bright yet musty scent of salt, straw, flax, and leather. It glowed for a moment as the strands combined once more, allowing the rope to become whole.
"Thank you," I said with a small smile. "You actually are cute. And I guess you are loyal. I can't fault you for that."
Tagger chattered, his long, white whiskers twitching. Then he dove beneath the waves. Corvin's shadowy form remained below as if waiting. As the otter neared him, he lingered a moment longer.
Was he watching me?
I shouldn't be looking at him. It wasn't as if I wanted to encourage him in this sort of behavior. He'd been entirely inappropriate.
And I wasn't interested in that sort of thing.
So why couldn't I stop staring?
And why did the skin along the back of my neck prickle and my arms goosebump?
I tried to swallow. The salt water had left my throat aching and sore, and the struggle had drained my body of its strength.
That's why I had to lean here and stare down at the sea.
And he remained there for two breaths longer until he at last turned and whisked down into the darkness below.
Salt's bane.
What was wrong with me?
I forced myself to step back, my knees still shaky. Water sluiced off my body in rivulets as I staggered across the deck to the staircase and my cabin.
Not a thing had changed onboard the ship in my absence. A few of the dwarves tended to their posts farther up on the ship and below deck, though clearly no one was really watching the sea. Thank the Creator nothing had tried to attack us. Whatever charms they used for safety had their complete confidence.
With the relative quiet and calm and the early autumn sun, there wasn't as much for the dwarven sailors to do when it wasn't their shift to run in the wheels. Most were probably resting, including the sentry in the crow's nest.
I sighed. No one really noticed anything I did unless it involved food, which was a blessing and a curse.
I washed up, then changed into a clean dark-blue dress with an apron. It was almost the middle of the afternoon.
Mik, the ship's cook, greeted me with a firm nod and a rough grunt. He wasn't much for talking. But he had been pleased to have someone else onboard to help with the meals. Especially when it came to chopping the vegetables and deboning the fish. He'd laughed at me the first time I'd asked for tweezers to pluck the pin bones, but then he'd gruffly acknowledged I hadn't done half bad.
That and requests for specific types of stews or dishes were the highest of compliments I got.
It wasn't so bad.
But the way that Corvin had teased and flirted with me…my cheeks heated now as much as they had when I was facing him.
It had been ages since someone said I was pretty.
Honestly, it'd probably be ages more before anyone would again. If they ever did.
Why was I wasting time on this?
I checked the lentils to make sure they were ready and then dumped them into the large iron stew pot. Then I checked on the other ingredients to search for anything that was on its last legs. Some of the ears of corn needed to be used, so I shucked and cut them. Turmeric and leeks were a good fit for this as well. Plus a little ginger.
It was cozy and calm within the galley. I chopped with precision, though my thoughts kept drifting back to Corvin. Mik didn't try to engage me in conversation. He didn't speak often, even outside the galley. Unless it was to tell me about a chore that needed tending.
I always handled it, no matter what it was. And at least he was polite about it. Especially considering he didn't have to be. Really, most of the dwarves on the Seaforger's Pride were nice enough, provided you didn't mind bluntness and lots of huffing. Their hunting otters—easily as big as they were—were much more fun. Larger than hunting dogs but just as friendly, some as big as lions and even smarter. When the running wheels weren't going, the dwarves had to barricade the galley if the hunting otters weren't down in their berths. The massive brown-furred creatures loved stew as much as their own meals, and they would happily lick any pot clean.
Tagger would probably do the same. And he was so much smaller and faster, so he'd probably be harder to stop.
Wait—why was I thinking about Tagger?
I shook my head.
Just because I didn't belong here didn't mean I should be thinking about a shifter fae and his troublesome otter.
I had work to do. That's where my attention needed to be.
The afternoon passed relatively quickly, even though I couldn't put Corvin out of my mind. I kept wondering what would have happened if I had agreed to go with him.
A shudder passed through me.
Nothing good.
Of course not.
What good ever came of a human running off with a fae?
None.
Nothing but heartbreak.
A fae was the reason my sister had vanished. At least if the rumors were true.
Emotion knotted in my throat, tears stinging my eyes.
It felt like we'd been looking for Erryn for forever, and yet I could remember the first day she'd gone missing with painful clarity. The panic in Mama's dark-grey eyes. The cold, greasy ball of fear that formed in my stomach. The creak of the floor as we paced and talked. The rumors that swirled about the village—that Erryn had taken a cursed fae bargain and been whisked away.
Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks.
After all this time, it was hard for me to believe that Erryn was still alive. Despite being selfish, Erryn was smart. She'd have found a way to get in touch with us. And there hadn't been a word out of her or about her beyond vague rumors of others who had gone missing thanks to roving glamouring fae.
That hadn't kept Mama from devoting her life to finding Erryn and researching every bit of arcane magic and lore that she thought might help her bring Erryn home.
Except none of this would help Erryn.
If I was honest with myself, the only reason I was still doing this was because I didn't want to abandon Mama. If I didn't take care of her, who would?
I ladled some of the steaming stew into a wooden bowl and picked up a couple slices of bread warm from the oven. Mik's salt and honey rye bread was good plain or with butter. Dinner in hand, out the door I went.
The first few weeks on the ship, I'd struggled to keep my footing. But now I could have walked across the deck with a full bowl of steaming tomato soup in a white dress and been mostly all right.
I found Mama in the study adjacent to the captain's quarters. That's where Mama usually was these days, hunched over maps and books as she struggled to pull any scrap of meaning from ancient texts that had no bearing on anything we were doing except for the fact they were about fae who stole humans or similar topics like portals. Lately she'd been obsessed with stairways in the air, the grounded and ungrounded ones and all their dangers and possibilities those portals held.
The study itself was small and dimly lit by a single oil lamp set in a rotating case and hung from the ceiling by wires. A little flame flickered, providing a surprising amount of light considering its size. The walls were lined with shelves that came up to my waist, and then the walls were plastered with maps, their edges yellowed and curled in. Old books and cases of scrolls filled most of the shelves, along with a few dark-stained chests. Precious little light flowed through the single porthole, but a bit of a breeze eked in. The heavy, musty scent of old paper and older leather with the strong scent of sailor's tobacco and a musky cologne that hadn't been used in ages filled my lungs. It left a dry but not unpleasant taste in my mouth.
A large table sat in the center of the room, fastened to the floor. Stacks of papers and books filled most of it, but a shiny brown teapot sat on the right corner near Mama's right hand along with a squat cup of now-cold tea.
Captain Hosvir had been smitten with Mama since the day we walked into the shipyard. Not that he would admit it to me. But he seemed to love talking with her and had many questions about these portals. Sometimes I wondered if there was something on this island that he wanted to find as well. He wasn't here at the moment, but that tea set was one he'd brought out on our second day at sea. He'd excused it by saying sometimes he enjoyed a nice cup of tea himself. And slowly that had turned into a mid-afternoon exchange between Mama and the captain. If Mama wasn't too busy.
There was no sign of the captain's cup, and Mama was especially focused on the pages in front of her. The tea in her cup hadn't been touched either. Nor had the little slice of seedcake that had slid off the plate and partially under a large faded volume.
Sighing, I stepped inside. "Mama," I said, holding the plate of bread and stew. "I know you haven't eaten today. So you need to eat dinner. All right?"
Mama nodded without looking up. Her thinning auburn hair was now more than half silver, and her eyeglasses sat low on her nose. One lens had cracked months ago. A simple enough fix, except she wouldn't spend a cent on anything that didn't bring her closer to finding Erryn. Her ragged green shawl had been drawn up over her bony shoulders and wrapped tight around her frail frame. She'd become so much more haggard and worn over the past few years, shrinking to little more than a shell of herself. Some days she refused to eat at all. Months and months of fruitless searching had carved deep lines in her face and sapped her strength and vitality.
I cleared my throat. "Mama," I said, louder this time. "I have to insist. You need to actually eat something."
"Just put it down," Mama said without looking up.
I moved the books aside and set the steaming bowl of stew down. The fragrant scent of cod, corn, lentils, and spices filled the air, accented by the warm yeasty scent of honey-and-salt rye bread.
She didn't turn her head or glance at it.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Mama."
She shook her head. "I'll get to it when I get a chance. I need to focus. There's something here—something that might give us the answer. I've translated the proper runes for activation. We may be able to use it."
Unlikely. Mama had learned many incredible things, but none of them had ever really helped to find Erryn.After we reached this oracle and dealt with the sorrow of learning yet again that there was nothing to help us find Erryn, I needed to talk with Mama about settling down again. We couldn't keep on doing this. But that meant Mama had to make it until then.
"Mama," I said again, firmer this time. "Have you eaten anything since yesterday? You didn't touch your tea. You need to eat something."
Another shake of the head, her focus on the page before her and the possible connections she was drawing from texts that had nothing to do with Erryn.
I squared my shoulders. "I'm not leaving until you take at least a bite of stew. You're being ridiculous." I said it with a tone, knowing that that would at least get a reaction from Mama.
Oh, did it ever.
Her gaze snapped to me, her eyes watery and bloodshot from hours of poring over texts. "You think it's ridiculous for me to look for your sister? Don't you care about Erryn, Philomena?"
I kept my chin up. "I do. But I also care about you. And you're going to be worthless or dead if you don't eat something."
"Don't take that tone with me, young lady. I said to leave it here," Mama said, her tone sharpening. "You don't need to patronize me. I will eat when I need to eat."
"Except you don't! You're so focused on finding Erryn that you won't even spend fifty coppers to get your lenses fixed." The words were sliding out, and I regretted it almost as soon as I realized it was happening. But it was too late. I kept my gaze steady, already regretting my next words. "It's been years. We may never find her! We can't keep living like this."
"She could still be alive." Mama hugged the shawl tighter around herself. Her thin brows pinched together. "Nothing is more important than finding Erryn, Philomena Ophelia Lyster. I would have thought you would understand by now. Your sister has not been found. We do not rest until she is found. We cannot give up on her! She's counting on us."
I gritted my teeth, my muscles tensing. There was so much I wanted to say about this, but I choked it all down to focus on what was important. "That doesn't mean you should starve yourself. If you really care about finding Erryn, the least you can do is eat."
"Don't you dare disrespect your sister's name like that." Mama's voice shook. Her face had gone pale. "I—I can't believe how callous you are about her sometimes."
I bit my tongue. Arguing further would make it worse. "Just one bite. All right? Then I'll leave."
Mama's mouth pinched. She picked up the piece of seedcake, tore off a small piece, and placed it in her mouth. "There."
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I forced a smile though. "Good enough." It was hard not to see Mama's decision to eat the seedcake and not my stew as personal. But at least she'd eaten something.
Mama mumbled something under her breath as she sat back down. She didn't even glance at the bowl of stew.
My heart clenched. Bile rose in the back of my mouth.
Part of me wanted to shove the books off the table and demand Mama take care of herself. If not for me, then for herself or Hosvir.
Instead I drew in a deep breath and strode toward the door. It creaked open easily as if the very wood realized how bad it would be for me to remain in this room. Hand on the door jamb, I hesitated. "I love you, Mama," I forced the words out.
Mama nodded without looking up. "I love you too, sweetheart." Tears ran down her cheeks, a few dropping onto the yellowed pages. She hunched over the scribbled pages.
Some small part of me wanted to tell Mama about Corvin and Tagger and all that had happened. But the words died before I could speak them.
It wasn't the first time something strange had happened to me. I'd just learned not to waste my breath telling Mama about those things. It only left me feeling ignored and sad when I told the whole story and Mama simply nodded or said "mmhmm."
So I left, the words locked tight within my chest.
I didn't eat any dinner that night either. Instead, I went straight to bed.This could not continue.
The doldrums continued over the next two days. We made decent progress with the dwarf wheels below the hold that propelled the ship ever forward, but it was tedious.
I helped with the cooking and cleaning. I even took a turn in one of the wooden wheels, jogging along at a steady pace. A couple of the dwarves operated hand fans that kept the air moving. The dwarves hummed and sang at times to keep the rhythm.
When I went to the quartermaster to tell him what happened with the mini-crossbow and the bolts, he didn't want to hear it. Instead he scolded me for being careless and told me to do better next time. Some of the younger crew members had lost their weapons before this, but this was my first time, and the reprimand stung.It was fair though. I had lost the crossbow.
Nothing drove away the aching sensation that I was missing something important. Each time I went above deck to cool off or rest, I went to the starboard side or the stern where I'd first glimpsed Tagger and peered down.
I was just checking to see if the otter was down there. That was all.
It wasn't like I was actually looking for Corvin.
But if he was there, I might say hello.
Shadows stirred within the deep, circling and watching. Captain Hosvir insisted none of them would attack the ship so long as we stayed on the right side of the boundary. Such caution didn't keep creatures from following in the hopes someone might fall in.
Corvin was dreadful. Horrid.
And charming.
I sighed, propping my fist against my cheek. The waves sloshed against the sides of the ship, the salty spray forming a broad fan.
Back before Erryn had vanished, I'd had friends. Some worked in the tavern. Others were in the village. They'd have begged me for details about Corvin and teased me relentlessly.
Not having anyone to tell me I was catching feelings for someone took out all the fun of denying it.
Especially when I couldn't hide from the truth.
I probably wasn't falling for Corvin. I was just lonely, and I liked the attention.
I was pathetic.
On the second night, I finished helping Mik clean up the galley from the cod and anchovy stew and then I went to my room, even though it wasn't yet dark.
Tucking the heavy blue blanket around myself, I removed a borrowed book from the drawer. A cookbook with stories from the Tide Breaker Clan. Nothing particularly riveting but comforting nonetheless.
Usually it was enough to make me drowsy.
Tonight, sleep refused to come. Instead, an odd unsettling feeling rose from the pit of my stomach and tightened into my chest.
I rubbed the base of my throat, pondering what it was. Not a pain. Not a disturbance. Just…an awareness.
The impulse intensified.
I needed to get up.
Now.
I strode out into the narrow, wooden hallway. The ship bobbed and rocked, the waves far stronger than in previous days. A couple of the dwarves sat on the stairs, chatting amiably and smoking. They didn't notice me. Neither did the sentry.
I made my way through the hall until I reached the study once more. The oil lamp's soft golden light glowed beneath the door. A stern debate was happening. The captain was not pleased, his rumbling bass so low I struggled to distinguish words.
Then another voice spoke, sharper and deadlier.
That voice.
I knew that voice.
Without knocking, I pressed the door to the study open. My hand gripped the knob to keep the natural rocking of the ship from jarring it further open as I peeked inside.
I froze.
Corvin.