Chapter 22
Carolina stepped out of her cabin and paced out onto main deck, where she stopped to turn her face toward the warm morning sun. She closed her eyes against the brightness and inhaled a deep breath of crisp air through her nose as she smiled into the sunlight. They’d risen from the surface once they left the Iron Sands the day before, and she’d instructed Ryland to start taking them to the nearest pirate island. Apart from going to let Ophelia send her message to Izaak Davar about the laibralt, she planned on celebrating her freedom once they broke the curse with a night out. A whole night.
Ophelia had slept all day yesterday, coming out only once at dinner to wolf down two large plates of food before returning to the infirmary and immediately passing out again. She hadn’t yet spoken to Ophelia that morning, but there was something about the day already. Something bright and energetic and hopeful. Something that told her that today was the day. Today, she’d be free, and she couldn’t keep her excitement at bay.
“You look happy,” Rue said, meeting her at the center of main deck.
“I can feel it,” she said with a grin, holding up her manacled wrist. “This comes off today.”
Rue smiled too, and asked, “You know if she’s rested enough yet?”
“Well, no,” she admitted. “Not for certain. But today feels different, Rue.”
“Then I’ll go get the celebration rum ready,” Rue told her, slapping her on the shoulder and then heading below deck.
Carolina couldn’t wait any longer. If Ophelia was still too tired, then she’d accept that. She could wait, if that was the reason. What she couldn’t wait any longer for was knowing. So she paced to the infirmary door, slowing herself down just enough so that her knock wasn’t impatient.
“Come in,” Ophelia called from the other side.
Carolina pushed open the door and said, “Good morning,” to Ophelia, who was just finishing pulling on her boots from the edge of her cot.
“Morning,” Ophelia returned with a smile.
“How do you feel?”
“Much, much better,” she answered. She stood and stretched her arms high above her head as she asked, “Have we left the surface?”
Carolina nodded. “We left yesterday.”
“Oh.” Ophelia lowered her arms and wandered over to where she was still standing at the door as she said, “I must’ve been too out of it last night to notice.”
“You did almost seem to be sleepwalking,” Carolina said.
Ophelia laughed. “I remember waking up and being hungrier than I’ve ever been in my life, and though I don’t remember filling my plates, I do remember eating them before coming back here and going back to sleep.”
“Well, you look like yourself again.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Ophelia smiled, and a few silent moments passed before she asked, “Are you ready to break the curse?”
And though Carolina’s heart skipped at the suggestion, she said, “I wasn’t going to rush you…”
“Oh,” Ophelia said, pulling her pocket watch out of her trouser pocket, “well then we can reschedule for next week if you-”
“No, no,” Carolina interrupted, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the teasing smirk on Ophelia’s face. “Today’s good. Now’s good. Please.”
Ophelia beamed at her, nodding her amusement while she tucked the watch back into her pocket. “I’ll gather everything I need and meet you in your cabin.”
“Do you want to eat first?” she asked. “I’m eager, Ophelia, but I truly can wait if you need time.”
The playful harassment faded from Ophelia’s smile as it turned warmer, and she shook her head. “I’m ready if you are.”
And Carolina couldn’t help grinning back at her. “I’ll meet you in my cabin, then. ”
She left the infirmary and headed next door to her cabin, leaving the door open so Ophelia could come right in when she was ready, and then buzzed around to prepare what she could while Ribbon watched curiously from her perch in the corner. She lit every candle in the room even though sunlight was pouring in through the windows and the open door, so that it would be as bright as it possibly could. She moved blank sheets of paper off her desk and stuffed them into drawers so they were out of the way, and did the same with her quill and ink bottle. Anything that wouldn’t fit in drawers, she set on the floor near the bookshelf so Ophelia would have as much space on the desk as she might need.
Then she didn’t know what else to do. It had been almost five minutes since she’d left the infirmary, and she didn’t know what more she could do to prepare. So she cleaned restlessly, using her fingernail to pick off a stray drip of wax on the desk, unrolling one of her sleeves to rub off a smudge of dirt on the wood, opening and reopening drawers to make sure they were tidy and organized. It was a relief when Ophelia finally knocked from the open door.
“Come in,” Carolina told her, ushering her in while hurrying over to close the door behind her.
Ophelia’s hands were full, and she wandered in and to the desk to deposit all the items she was holding onto it. “Let me get myself together for a moment,” she said.
Carolina nodded from her spot at the entrance, too excited and suddenly nervous to move. She didn’t want to get in the way, or make Ophelia feel rushed, or do anything that might jeopardize everything going as smoothly as possible. So she stood there, silently watching as Ophelia set out a large, shallow ceramic bowl, a bottle of black sand, and the piece of laibralt. She reached for the necklace around her neck and lifted it over her head, carefully slipping the ring off the chain and setting it gently on the desk beside the other items.
Once all the items were laid out, she uncorked the bottle of black sand and poured it into the bowl until it was about two inches deep, and then touched the sides of the bowl and used her magic to shake it until the sand was perfectly smooth. Then she looked up at Carolina.
“Come,” she instructed, and Carolina swallowed down the building nervousness and wandered forward.
Ophelia reached for the hand of Carolina’s manacled wrist, and Carolina didn’t resist as Ophelia instructed her to splay her fingers and then set her hand palm down in the center of the sand .
“Try not to move it,” Ophelia told her, and she nodded, holding her hand as still as she could as it sat there on top.
Ophelia then picked up the small piece of laibralt and dropped it neatly between Carolina’s spread-out thumb and index finger. When she picked up the ring, she hesitated, staring down at it for several moments before clearing her throat and passing a brief look up at Carolina. She then lined up her spot and dropped the ring near Carolina’s pinky finger, and finally drew several different runes in the sand along the edge of the bowl.
Carolina was trying so hard to hold still that she was barely even breathing, and she didn’t notice until Ophelia let out a huff of laughter and said, “Deep breath.” Carolina inhaled till her lungs were full, and then let that breath out slowly. “You ready?”
“I’ve never been more ready,” she said. “What do I need to do?”
“Nothing,” Ophelia told her, carefully pushing Carolina’s sleeve up until it was tucked above her elbow and there were no hindrances to accessing the manacle. “Just keep breathing and stay as still as you can.”
“No problem,” Carolina said.
Ophelia let out a short, sharp sigh as she breathed, “Alright.” She nodded rapidly. Nervously. “Here goes nothing.” She lowered her hands so they were hovering above the bowl and everything in it, and then she closed her eyes.
Carolina watched intently, reminding herself to breathe as her heartbeat picked up with every moment that passed by. And for several of those moments, nothing happened. Ophelia was clearly focusing, but there was nothing to indicate that she was using any magic or doing anything at all. But then Carolina stopped looking so often at Ophelia’s face, and found that the sand was vibrating more and more intensely with each passing second.
Eventually it was vibrating so much that the ring sank and disappeared below the surface. The laibralt followed shortly after, and then the silky tickle of the sand rose around Carolina’s fingers and palm. Her hand sank until all that was left above was her fingernails and the tops of her knuckles, and then they disappeared too, so that she was buried deep enough for the sand to reach the very edge of the manacle on her wrist. And despite all of those things disappearing, the runes stayed perfect.
Still, it didn’t stop vibrating. It picked up until it was moving so quickly that it all blurred together, and before Carolina knew it, the sand inside the runes melted into an opaque black liquid. Shortly after that, the rest of the sand followed, until the entire bowl was filled with it. She did her best not to move as it grew hot against her skin, and had to reinforce her nerve when the laibralt and ring in the dish liquified and floated to the surface. They vibrated amongst the black until they’d fanned out and veined across the top, gold and silver and blue, and then began to collect near her wrist, the tips of each vein attaching stiffly to the laibralt of the manacle.
And she didn’t realize it until the tops of her knuckles were visible again, but the liquid and the molten elements were disappearing. They faded until the liquid in the bowl got so low that she could almost see the bottom, and she could finally tell where it was all going. It was going into the manacle. Thin, opaque black liquid snaked up her hand along with the elements and disappeared somewhere within the brass shackle.
That’s what she thought, anyway, but the manacle didn’t swell, or grow, or thicken, and she would’ve begun to second guess her perception if not for the quiet, high-pitched hum that began a moment later. It was like the sound of someone stroking their finger along the rim of a crystal glass, and it grew louder with each passing second as more liquid and molten mineral absorbed into the manacle. It grew until it hurt. Until it was so loud that she thought it would shatter the glass of the windows.
Then all at once the bowl was dry and empty except for her hand, and the ringing stopped with a loud and final pop as a veined web fractured under the cracked spot at the center of the manacle. Ophelia’s eyes snapped open and landed on the break, and she grinned at Carolina as she reached for her hand and pulled it from the bowl. She gripped the manacle between her fingers with such confidence that Carolina’s heart swelled, and she pulled.
It didn’t come apart.
She pulled again as her smile faded. Nothing. She yanked Carolina farther across the desk and tucked Carolina’s arm against her ribs, using her body as leverage to tug harder at the manacle. She strained so hard against it that a vein popped out in her forehead, and still, nothing.
“No,” she murmured, setting Carolina’s arm down on the desk and slamming her closed fist against the top of the laibralt. “No, no, no.” She hit the crack in the metal once more before reaching forward and grabbing one of Carolina’s daggers from her belt. She turned it around and slammed the pommel against the fracture. “Break, damn it!”
The pommel’s failure made her frantic, and while she tried desperately to slam against the crack and break it completely, all the joy and hope sank from Carolina’s chest until she was completely empty of it. She pulled her wrist back the next time Ophelia wound up, but Ophelia had too much momentum to stop, and she smashed the pommel onto the desk so hard that it dented the wood. She let out a frustrated growl as she whipped the dagger across the room in violent surrender, and then they both stood there, staring at each other. Ophelia panting from her desperation, Carolina trying to keep the deep, despairing disappointment off her face.
“Am I too weak?” Ophelia breathed. “Why didn’t it work?” She pulled the note from Lia out of her pocket and read it again, but it didn’t seem to tell her anything she wanted, because she crumpled it up and tossed it aside. She looked at Carolina once more and her eyebrows met. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Carolina asked.
“Like,” Ophelia gestured frantically and impatiently, “ that .”
But Carolina didn’t know how else to look, and she certainly didn’t know what to say. If she was being honest, all she wanted to do was cry. She’d never been so disappointed. Never had her hopes so brutally crushed, and her sadness only deepened with every moment that Ophelia’s despair shifted from frustration to anger, until Ophelia was so upset that she grabbed the bowl and hurled it across the room, shattering it against the same wall as the dagger.
“Say it,” Carolina said quietly.
“Say what ?” Ophelia snarled.
Carolina swallowed down her anguish to force herself to say, “Everything you’ve been holding back since you got here.”
Ophelia shot her a glare as her lips pursed, and she stared at Carolina defiantly. But she couldn’t hold that defiance forever, and Carolina knew it. Not when she’d already been holding onto it for so long. And with every second that went by, more tears welled in her eyes, and the curve in her mouth fell until she was frowning so deeply that her lip began to quiver.
“Damn you, Carolina,” she said eventually, and with that, all her resolve seemed to crumble. “Damn you! Damn you for leaving!”
Carolina nodded, trying to breathe past the rising lump in her throat .
“No!” Ophelia continued. “You have no idea! You have no idea what you did to me when you left! I didn’t ask for you to come in and ruin my life. I was fine! I was fine and you ruined it!” She paused to draw in a deep breath, and with that breath, the tears broke, and her face twisted as she sobbed and wiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “I was living in the dark, and it was lonely, and hopeless, but it was all I knew, and I was fine . But then you showed up and you filled my heart with passion and adventure and promises. Do you understand?” She swallowed down another sob and whimpered, “You tore me from the darkness.”
She sniffled, shaking her head as she squatted down set to her forehead against the desk, and she cried into the wood for several long seconds before lifting it to show Carolina the tears streaming down her cheeks. “You illuminated the cage I was living in, and you showed me what life was like outside of it, and then you left me there. Heartbroken. Alone. With no way out but with a fresh, merciless understanding of just how trapped I was, and I couldn’t think of anything more cruel.”
Carolina’s eyes had fallen to her feet, and she couldn’t bring herself to look up again. Couldn’t bring herself to face the hurt she knew was on Ophelia’s face because, beyond the heartbreak, she’d never considered what other pain she caused. Didn’t know there was other pain to cause.
“You broke me,” Ophelia sniffled, “and I spent the last eight years piecing myself back together only for you to come blazing back into my life to highlight every fracture I couldn’t heal.”
There was a long, heavy silence after that, and when Carolina eventually gathered the strength to meet Ophelia’s gaze, it was clear Ophelia was waiting for her to say something. But what could she ever say to make this right? How could she even begin to apologize sincerely when she was still so full of disappointment and despair herself?
But she had to say something, didn’t she? Because it had been almost a minute with Ophelia watching her expectantly, waiting with tears still escaping her eyes. So she inhaled to say something. Anything . But there wasn’t a damn thing she could think of that even came close to good enough, and Ophelia was done waiting.
“Don’t bother,” Ophelia said, and she hurried to the door, slamming it shut behind her and without looking back.
All the breath left Carolina’s lungs the moment Ophelia was gone. She buckled over and put her hands on her knees, gasping for air past the piercing anguish in her chest, but she couldn’t breathe. Her cabin was hot and stuffy, and she’d have rather dropped herself overboard than spent another second inside.
She rushed out the door, sucking in a deep gulp of fresh air as she paced to the very bow of the ship — the only place she could get both air and privacy. She set her elbows on the bulwark and then leaned over to rest her head on her arms, still panting for air as she struggled to process the complete agony she was feeling. As she struggled with whether to scream or break down. She was still trying to decide when footsteps came up behind her.
“Carolina?” Rue prompted.
She took in several more deep breaths before she managed to mumble, “It didn’t work.”
Rue stepped up to her side, and for a long handful of moments, she didn’t say anything. She just stood there with her elbows against the bulwark to match Carolina’s stance. Then, finally, she asked, “What now?”
Carolina straightened up to shake her head and poke at the widened fracture in the manacle, but she couldn’t think past the heartbreak.
“So, that’s it then?” Rue asked with a sharp, accusatory tone to her voice that stabbed at the ache in Carolina’s chest. “You’re going to make her Ascend?”
And Carolina couldn’t take that kind of open displeasure. Not then. Not with the pain she was feeling. “I don’t know, Rue!” she snapped.
“Well, figure it out!” Rue shouted back, pushing away from the bulwark. “You’re such a hypocrite, Carolina.”
Carolina whirled around, unable to stop the flare of fury when the rest of her emotions were shot. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Rue said. “You walk around talking about freedom this and freedom that, when the woman you love is a prisoner on your own ship.”
“She’s not a prisoner,” Carolina spat.
“Bullshit!” Rue countered. “As if she has any choice but to do what you want her to. Bounty hunters behind, Ascension ahead; and you fucking wonder why she couldn’t break the spell? What kind of resolution is this? Huh?” Rue gestured her arms outward. “How could she ever forgive you with you holding this over her head?”
“You have no idea what I’m surrendering should I choose either way,” she said pleadingly .
Rue sighed, gently shaking her head. “That’s the thing, Carolina, I don’t care. I’m tired of this being the only thing you’ve ever given a shit about. Either sink the knife in or put it away, but for the love of god, stop torturing her and give her something resolute.”
Rue didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t give Carolina a chance to respond before walking away. And Carolina just stood there, that torment in her chest somehow even deeper because she knew . She knew what she had to choose. She knew what she’d unconsciously chosen the moment she laid eyes on Ophelia for the first time in eight years. She knew that it was never really a choice. But the problem, the struggle, the source of all her pain, was accepting it.