Chapter 21 Lyx
TWENTY-ONE
Lyx
If Lyx wasn’t avoiding Cav before, she certainly is now.
Once Cav left the cabin, the storm subsided. It was a cruel joke, like the sea was rocking only to thrust the two of them together. Her mind was still whirling, though, leaving her tossing and turning on the mattress where Cav had been pressed moments before.
Who does he think he is, asking her to be honest? She is honest, but when has that ensured anything but her suffering? Asking her to trust him might as well be asking her to carve open her chest and expose the delicate muscle of her heart.
Her fists clench. Cav will never understand that; he’s always been willing — desperate — to offer up his throat for something foolish. He may enjoy being taught a lesson, but Lyx has learned hers. She knows the price of it. She’s still paying for it.
Who gives a shit what Cav expects from her? He can wait for her “honesty” as long as he’d like, but he’ll die holding his breath.
Her indignation lulls her to sleep. Aside from the night after the crow’s nest, it’s the first time in years that she doesn’t dream, doesn’t wake, doesn’t move. By the time her eyes crack open, the sun is low outside the window. She’s slept through nearly the entire day.
She hurries out of bed, ignoring the wet spots left on the floor by Cav’s clothing. The Indulgence is making another stop tonight, and she needs to get a closer look at where those glass jars are going.
When she ascends the stairs, the crew is milling about the deck, finishing dinner and preparing for the next landing. Thankfully, there’s no sign of Cypher. Lyx exhales her relief, leaning back against the railing and staring out across the sea.
It is a beauty artists struggle to replicate.
Nothing truly captures its movement, a swirling surface that descends into darkness.
That’s where it hoards its greatest mysteries, the biggest shipwrecks to the smallest treasures.
There was a time when Lyx knew the ocean’s secrets.
When she could ask it for anything. When she was its confidant, feeling its whims like an instinct, colluding against those who underestimated them.
Even now, its power rolls beneath her, a barely-restrained force that can transform in an instant.
She yearns to reach for it, but when she unfurls the tendrils of her mind, there’s…nothing. Silence. A drop in a pond that creates no ripples.
Her chest tightens. She turns away.
Cav hasn’t noticed her from where he meanders across the deck. His clothes are slightly too tight, borrowed from someone else on the ship, like he’d rather chafe than visit his cabin again.
She wonders if his mind is stuck in the same place as hers. She curls her fingers around the taffrail, throbbing with the sweet sting of the night before. It’s imprinted in her mind — the feel of her palm against his cheek, the obscene spread of his knees, the blood and spit glistening on his lips.
The blood that she can see now. His wound has begun to heal, but there’s no mistaking the mark she left on him.
It tugs at the pit of her stomach. His sharp teeth worry that spot on his lip when he notices her.
He looks unsure if he should approach. When he does, he leaves more space than usual between them.
“Thought you’d be holed up in the cabin again. ”
“We’re about to make port.”
He shakes his head and leans on the railing beside her. The back of his shirt is so low that she can see the spikes along his spine, his skin completely covered in scales. “We’re not making port. We’re picking people up.”
It takes a moment for her to tear her gaze to where he’s pointing. In the water below, two barrels float on their sides. Out of their holes sprout two upright broomsticks with a sun-bleached sheet stretched between them. Painted words are scrawled in red across the fabric.
No Whores!
No Drink!
No Sinners!
A commotion begins on the ship. Crew members call back and forth, taking their positions and turning the vessel toward a nearby island.
They’re 200 yards from land, but they don’t move any closer.
It’s like the Indulgence is curling in on itself, sails retracting before all the frosted lanterns go out.
The air is so still and quiet that Lyx jumps when there’s a heavy splash into the ocean. “Anchor,” Cav murmurs.
After a moment, the clanking chain grinds to a halt. The Indulgence drifts in place.
Lyx peers through the dusk. On the island, there’s no sign of a port.
No houses along the beach. No torches in the town center.
Not even a candle in a window. The island seems completely isolated, save for a line of barbed barriers along the coast. Tall wooden fencing wraps around the island, plastered with signs that match the one they passed.
Something moves on the coast. Lyx lifts a hand over her eyes to see better.
A section of wooden boards breaks away from the fence.
It slams to the ground, covered by a large shape that appears from the forest. It looks like a giant grab scuttling along the beach, but when the shell topples into the water, she realizes it’s a rowboat carried by half a dozen people making their escape.
On the far side of the island, torches flare to life, casting light over a much bigger group. Even from this distance, Lyx can tell they’re angry, shouting and sprinting toward the small boat.
Everyone is dressed in the same cultish robes, a bland shade of beige that stands out against the dark.
The escapees clamber through the shallows, hoisting and shoving each other inside their dinghy.
The second group descends, torches bobbing when they wade into the water.
One man snags the collar of a rower, but the others kick him away, digging in their oars and paddling with all their might.
A round of cheers swells on the Indulgence. Music kicks up on the forecastle, and the lanterns flare to life again. The rowers shout and wave as they draw closer, tying their boat to the ship before they climb the ladder to come aboard.
It’s a celebration. Everyone on the Indulgence welcomes them, but Lyx’s mouth fills with a sour taste. Why does their triumph feel like her defeat? Her throat aches.
The ship begins to move again. The newcomers are sweaty and panting and smiling. They’ve made it. They’ve escaped their torment and found the open arms of the Indulgence.
Lyx feels hot with an envy she can’t explain. “Do they owe you something now? For aiding their escape?”
“No,” Cav says carefully. “We just give them a ride to the next port. Give them a place to start over that isn’t so…controlling.”
Lyx’s teeth scrape the inside of her cheek. Everything inside her is volatile, like a wick has been lit, but she doesn’t know where it begins or ends. Why is she full of such resentment?
Maybe because all they had to do was wait for their rescuer to arrive, and now, they’re free.
No strings attached. She can’t imagine that.
When she needed help the most, who was there for her?
Only Tidus, prepared to snap a lock around her throat.
When she leaves this ship, he will still be the only one there.
There is no savior. No one to wipe her slate clean.
For the briefest moment, her mind wanders into places it shouldn’t. What would have happened if the Indulgence had found her instead? If Cav had returned to her? If she’d spent the last two years with him instead of trapped under Tidus’s control?
There’s no point in wondering. That understanding numbs her until she can breathe again. The Indulgence did not appear to her. Cav did not return. Tidus has her song. This is her reality.
When she surfaces from her thoughts, Cav is still watching her. His eyes pour into her like he wishes he could do the same, diving past the scales and scars until he reaches the bottom. She isn’t sure what he’d find. She isn’t sure what she’d want him to see.
The tension from last night still hangs between them.
She shouldn’t feel it. She shouldn’t feel anything, but simply being in Cav’s presence stirs up emotions she still doesn’t know how to name.
She tilts her chin toward the newcomers.
“Do you entertain them? Now that they’re free to do as they please? ”
By now, the group is coming down from the thrill. A few of them are giddy with shock. Another looks sick, but all of them are being distracted by the crew passing out mugs and offering fresh clothing.
Cav settles back against the taffrail. “Usually, I do, but lately, I think I’ve lost my touch.”
She can’t help but laugh, despite herself. There is no world in which Cav is not infuriatingly, disarmingly charming. “Maybe you just need someone who can properly appreciate it.”
The words feel strange in her mouth. Almost…complimentary. Her throat aches in a way wholly different than she’s used to.
Cav’s lip quirks, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is this your way of getting rid of me?”
His body is warm beside her. She would barely have to move to touch him. If she shifted closer and stretched her fingers, she could feel him under her like the night before. She could reach out and find him waiting there.
But that is not a thought she should entertain. She isn’t here for him. She is here to ruin whatever peace he has. Maybe that’s why her mouth gets so reckless. Who cares what she says? In a few days, none of this will matter. She’ll have her song, and she’ll be on her own again.
“I want to watch you work.” When she meets his eyes, her stomach clenches. His gaze is so potent that she has to brace against the railing. “I want to see what it could be like. If someone let themself be captivated by you.”
Their bodies are closer now, unable to resist whatever force pulls them together. This is dangerous territory. She’s saying things she shouldn’t, but her mind refuses the consequences. She won’t be here for the aftermath. Chaos spills into her, but it’s not as good as the way he looks at her.
When he speaks, she sees fire crackling in the back of his throat. “If you will it.”