Chapter 35 Cav
THIRTY-FIVE
Cav
Never has Cav slept so soundly. The afternoon sun on his eyelids is enough to keep him drowsy.
His muscles ache, sated and heavy. A smile flits across his lips.
When he shifts, the raw skin on his chest twinges.
Last night felt like a dream, but the pain is a reminder that it was real.
It happened. He and Lyx have seen each other in a way unmatched by anyone else.
Groggily, he reaches out for her. The sheets beside him have no hint of Lyx’s cool body.
He cracks one eye open against the light, but he can tell there’s no sign of Lyx. Maybe she got hungry. Despite the events of last night, she can’t sustain herself on pieces of Cav alone.
With a stretch, he swings his legs over the side of the bed.
Overhead, there are only two sets of footsteps.
It must be later than he realized. Most of the crew will have already disembarked, so Cav needs to get a move-on.
He’d rather not get stuck taking the Indulgence for maintenance when he has a week-long holiday ahead of him.
He tugs on the clothing tossed across his desk, and a scrap of parchment flutters to the ground. He crouches to retrieve it. The handwriting is unfamiliar. His fingers trace the jagged, unpracticed letters with fondness. They’re Lyx’s.
If love is real, then I have to leave.
He could float to the ceiling. Love. Does she love him? Is it possible?
Then the bubble bursts, sending him crashing back to the ground. Leave. What does that mean? Why would she go? Where would she go?
He yanks open the door and bounds up the stairs, nearly knocking Heathen over. She steadies herself on the banister. “I was starting to worry. You’re the last —”
“Where’s Lyx?” he pants. “Have you seen her?”
Heathen blinks. Cypher appears behind her. “She’s not with you?”
Cav’s stomach sinks. He hurries across the deck with Heathen calling after him. “Cav, we already swept the ship. There’s no one else on board.”
He can’t accept it. How can Lyx be gone, again? It’s like he’s reliving a nightmare where he’s always too late to change the ending.
There’s no sign of her. Of course there isn’t. He moves back to his cabin, passing Heathen and Cypher in the doorway. Heathen speaks softly. “Cav…”
“She left.” The words echo through him, hollow and heavy at once. Gods, why does she always leave him like this? Because she knows he’d try to stop her? Because she knows it would work? Why will she never let him help her?
Heathen takes the crumpled parchment from his hand and scans it. Cav’s raw skin throbs. Lyx truly has taken a piece of him, and he wants that to mean something. He knows they crossed a threshold last night. It was more than an experiment or revenge or thrill.
When Cypher takes the parchment from Heathen, Cav wants to snatch it back. “Are you happy?” It’s not her fault, he knows, but the hurt swirls inside him like steam looking for any crack to escape from. “At least you can finally take off that fucking bandana.”
Cypher scratches at the edge of the fabric. The outline of the fiery Indulgence is still imprinted in black.
Of course. For all of Cypher’s suspicion, Lyx isn’t to blame for the mark, just like he said.
He grabs the parchment and pushes past them.
The deck is completely empty now, but music and chatter rise from the island below.
It’s the largest port in the archipelago, bustling with shops and food and entertainment.
Cav was supposed to be enjoying himself.
He was supposed to be with Lyx, showing off his favorite spots and feeding her delicacies.
Now, he’s just here. Alone.
Heathen emerges from below. “I’m sorry, Cav.” She scans the crowd like she might see Lyx’s face. “We checked everyone off when they disembarked. She must have left hours ago. Maybe she’s on the island somewhere.”
Cypher lingers behind them at the hatchway. “Do you…” She shifts her weight and maintains the space between them. “Do you want help looking?” Her voice is gruff with uncertainty. “Maybe another tattoo will show up, or —”
“Don’t bother.” When Cav walks down the gangplank, it’s like wading through mud.
He tries to keep his head above it. Around him, the crowd ebbs and flows and moves him along with it.
Vendors shout and wave sizzling legs of meat.
Music stampedes from different stalls and crashes into itself.
Through it all, he searches for Lyx. He has no idea where to start, but he traverses the length of the dock and peers into every ship he passes.
He retraces his steps, ducking into every shop and stand.
Every flash of blue draws his eye, but it’s never Lyx, just a fluttering flag or some other creature at the edge of the crowd.
She’s nowhere to be found. He knew she wouldn’t be, but it crushes him all the same. He trudges back down the port. The Indulgence has long since pulled away, and he can just make out its sails disappearing behind the furthest island.
Someone slings an arm around his shoulder. “Where’s your girl?”
Cav winces, and Briar’s grip loosens.
Lace nudges Cav from the other side. “We want to play with her.”
A knot forms in Cav’s throat. “She left.”
Briar and Lace exchange a look over his head. “…Let’s get you drunk.”
“I don’t want to drink,” he mumbles, but the two of them are already tugging him toward a familiar pub, one he would have taken Lyx to if she were still here.
“Three of your strongest,” Lace calls to the barkeep.
Briar sits Cav down at the bar. He’s exhausted from searching. It’s not the satisfying feeling of the night before; this fatigue makes his scales dry, eyes itchy, tail heavy behind him. He curls it around the stool legs to keep it from dragging on the floor.
Lace slides a shot in front of him. Cav doesn’t reach for it, even when Briar and Lace tip theirs back. They’re still watching Cav when they set their empty glasses on the counter. “You sure you don’t want it?” Briar asks.
Their typically flippancy has been replaced by concern, and that makes Cav feel worse. He pushes away from the bar and wanders out onto the wooden deck. As far as the eye can see, there are places to explore and things to do. Cav is drawn to none of it. Nothing drives him. Nothing excites him.
Usually, he adores the hustle and bustle, but right now, he wants nothing more than to curl up in his sheets and smell Lyx embedded there. It’ll be days before he can do that again. Until then, he’ll have to settle for the hammocks strung up between trees at the edge of the deck.
He finds one hanging on its own. The fabric is almost the same color as his hammock on the ship. The place where Lyx laid next to him. Where he slept until she asked him to stay with her.
He climbs inside and finally lets his eyes slip shut.
Every gentle breeze, every ripple, every sway reminds him of where he is.
Where Lyx isn’t. Where he could be instead.
If he closes his eyes, he can still feel Lyx’s body aligned with his, her breath against his neck, her whispered words weaving through his bloodstream.
He reminisces until he dozes off. It’s a small mercy for his aching heart, sending him to a dream world where he can pretend Lyx is still with him.
When he wakes with his legs tangled in the fabric, he reaches out for Lyx before he remembers she isn’t here.
His heart plummets again, stopped only by something crinkling in his hand.
It’s too dark to make out in the setting sun.
Cav sits up in hammock to use the light of the torches.
In his hand is a different piece of parchment, hastily folded and tied with twine.
The knot is sturdy, more suitable for a boat than a letter.
Cav slides the tip of his claw to cut the twine in two before he moves to a nearby table.
He flattens out the parchment with his palms.
Northern boathouse. Alone. Come get your prize.
His heart trips. How does he recognize that handwriting? It’s not the scrawl of Lyx from before, but he can’t quite place it. Where did this come from? What does it mean?
Torchlight dances across one of the parchment’s creases. Cav cups his hand to pour out what’s inside. The objects are small and iridescent, so feather-light they might blow away in the wind. Around their edges is a darker rim of flesh, like they’re tiny scales plucked from a fish.
A chill spreads through Cav’s body. Not a fish.
Lyx.
His head snaps up. On the deck, clusters of people laugh and dance, playing games and drinking in the fading light. There is no sign of Lyx. No sign of anyone who’d leave this note. There’s not even anyone glancing in Cav’s direction, except for Briar and Lace.
“Look who’s finally awake.” Briar holds up a shot from their table. “Ready to make bad decisions?”
Cav lifts the letter. “What is this?”
Lace cups a hand to his ear against the ruckus. When Cav moves closer, Briar and Lace both look at the parchment in confusion. “Where’d you get that?”
“I don’t know,” Cav answers. “Did someone give it to me?”
Briar leans out to look toward the hammock, then back to Lace. “Was it that crusty guy?”
Cav’s ears perk. “Who?”
“Some man hovering around you while you slept. We ran him off.” Lace gestures along the side of his face. “He was covered in crustaceans or something.”
Fear latches onto Cav’s chest. Who could that be? What do they want? And what is happening to Lyx?
Who knows how long Cav’s been holding that letter — and Lyx’s life — in his hands. He stuffs the scales into his pocket and moves to the wooden stairs off the side of the deck.
“Wait! Cav!” Briar leans back in her chair to shout after him. “What does it say? Where are you going?”
But Cav is already gone.