Chapter 10 #2
Captain Pestilence warned me about Kinga, the crocodile deity, guarding both the salt and fresh water in Silvermist. Killing all those that dare enter his water without his permission.
He weeps for every victim, and if too many fall victim to him, Silvermist’s fresh water will turn to salt water, and with it, life in Silvermist will become impossible.
I knew of the stories of Kinga. Peter warned me.
It is why I never much missed the ability to swim after coming here.
It is why Peter does not want the faun to swim.
As the Prince of Neverland, only he can.
Soon as we are married, I will be able to do so too.
Had I been able to swim I would have risked it and tried to escape, hoping Kinga would have recognized me as Peter’s fated mate.
RAP RAP RAP
Fist pounding my door in rapid succession, interrupts my thoughts, signaling that my rest is over and that I need to report for my kitchen duty.
Not that it matters when I can hardly remember what I was thinking about.
My thoughts are like the kite Matthew had made that one summer.
From fabric scraps, sticks, and some leftover wool.
The wool had been too thin. The kite, as beautiful as it was, had drifted all over the place from right to left, forwards and backwards, with no rhyme or reason until the wool broke, leaving Matthew with nothing but a single broken string of rope and the loss of his kite drifting off to an unknown place.
Right now, I am struggling to hold on to the rope, and if Peter is not here within a few days, the rope will break.
I will be just as adrift as the colorful kite once was, but the storm threatening me is not one made of winds and water.
It’s made of flesh, blood, metal, and a fallacious hatred for the man I love.
I shiver at the idea of my impending vulnerability.
“Weakling, working in this kitchen is not that horrendous. Or are you so infected with the faun’s morals, that being treated as an equal, a worker, is a terror to you now?” Samuel scolds me. I didn’t even notice him walking into my room.
He must have been telling me that it is indeed time to start my shift in the kitchen. The shiver of fear that courses through me is mistaken for a shiver or terror at the prospect of working.
“You’re…” My chest swells, my lungs filling with the salty sea air when I take a deep shuddering breath.
“You’re as much an idiot as Captain Pestilence,” that’s what I was about to say, that’s what I still want to say, but I hold myself back.
I told myself I was going to do better, win over the crew, and mocking them is not helping my case.
“No, the effect of being without Peter and the necklace is making me a bit unfocused. I am sure Killian told you about it,” I say, and it’s the truth in most parts.
I am a bit loopy with missing Peter. I hope Killian did not tell his crew about the fact that I will get so sick, hope he lied to his crew, that no matter how small it is, it might be the first seed of doubt.
“Aye, the whole getting sick because you miss your fated mate so much bullshit,” Samuel snarls. As if my body’s natural reaction to being away from the one who was meant to be with me offended him personally.
“So, fae don’t have fated mates, I take it?” I ask my first small question. One I feel I know the answer to. One that doesn’t come with too many consequences if Samuel tells me about it.
“Nay, we don’t believe in fated mates. Love is something you choose, something you work hard for.
I don’t desire romantic love at all. I desire friendship, a family’s love.
But there is nothing at all appealing about romantic love for me at all.
So tell me, Faun mate, does that make me broken?
A pitiable man, not even the gods could find a partner for?
” There is a fire in Samuel’s words as he speaks to me.
Daring me to pity him, to think something is wrong with him.
I hate him, like I hate all the pirates on this ship.
But some questions deserve the truth, no matter who asks them.
“You’re not broken, nor do I pity you. My mother used to say every jar has a lid out there.
Maybe you just came with your own lid attached,” I say with a shrug.
Not wanting to be too kind, but unable to lie either.
“Huh, I like that. Never expected someone like you to be this smart,” Samuel says. The insult slides down my back, like the bathwater did hours ago. I am not sure if it is because I am used to the fae insulting me, or because I could hear his voice soften, his eyes crinkle at the corners.
“That’s because you act first, ask questions later. You all do.” The words were meant to come out as another scathing remark, but even I hear the teasing tone in my words.
The muggy warmth of the kitchen filled with the scent of citrus and herbs wraps around us.
Suffocating the fragile amicable peace between Samuel and me.
It feels like a dizzying relief, like a step back from a dangerous cliff.
The plan is for the crew to like me, not for me to like them.
Samuel’s words have touched me, to be seen as broken, different just for who he is…
It’s something I have felt too, and something no one should feel.