Chapter 11
Halfway through my first week, I sit beside Alana, shoveling in spoonfuls of a lukewarm hearth fruit bisque in the break room when Isla walks up to our table, hunched over. Her blond curls stick to the sheen of sweat on her face, and she holds one arm over her stomach.
I drop my spoon and jump to my feet to help her sit on the stool across from Zora. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Zora reaches across the table and squeezes Isla’s hand but says nothing.
Isla inhales sharply and grits her teeth. Her green eyes slide to mine, but they’re scrunched with pain. “This just happens sometimes,” she gasps. “I get sharp pains in my abdomen. They come and go. Frustratingly impossible to predict.”
Zora rubs her thumb over Isla’s hand in a soothing circular motion. Isla’s pinched mouth and heavy exhales make me forget I have little time before I have to return to the Stallard family.
A thrill of rage courses through me. If the bosses did this to Isla as punishment, she shouldn’t have to work.
My mind drifts back to my own punishment from two nights ago.
Boss Charmaine hadn’t appreciated my little stunt with the spirit during my first punishment, even if I was defending myself.
She’d taken her knife and ripped open my forearm.
With each slice, she applied more pressure, ignoring my screams. Then, when I was heavy-lidded and slumped from blood loss, she’d taken her jar of raw Morphia and healed the cuts.
She’d sewed the skin the way a mender would.
Over and over again. Whatever’s happened to Isla looks worse.
Ivander walks over with his tray of food and sets it beside me. Although his gaze is trained on Isla, I realize with a jolt that he’s sitting next to me. He usually sits beside Niko and avoids eye contact with me altogether. My stomach somersaults, but I don’t let it show.
“Should you go to the med-bay?” I ask Isla, concern for her overshadowing my surprise at Ivander’s closeness. “It’s on this deck, isn’t it?”
Isla wipes a curl away from her face and lets out a harsh laugh. “The bosses didn’t do this. It’s not like that. Menders can’t do anything to fix it. Every couple of months, they give me a new diet or breathing exercise to try, but nothing keeps it away forever. Just something I live with.”
Alana looks to a clock styled like a compass over the buffet table. “It’s time to go.”
None of us leave. Alana adds her hand to Zora’s atop Isla’s.
Isla gives her a weak smile. Clenching my own teeth, I steady the rush of hot anger.
Isla needs a day off, but I know she’s not going to get one.
The bosses lining the perimeter of the mess hall can tell she’s in pain, but they do nothing to help.
I lean toward Isla. “What causes this? Maybe—”
“Don’t,” Ivander says with a sharpness that shuts me up fast. “No one knows the cause. Trust me, if there was something Isla could do, she would have tried it already.”
I close my mouth, a little embarrassed. Of course, he’s right.
He must think I’m a spoiled girl who thinks everything can be fixed with Morphia.
After watching my sister struggle as a mender for years, I know better than most that that’s not true.
Isla clutches her lower left side and shuts her eyes.
“It’s all right,” she says. “I asked all those questions at one point.” With a heavy breath, she sits up straighter.
She tentatively massages the area and opens her eyes.
“Comes in waves. Let’s hope it calms down before lunch service. ”
Niko emerges from the galley with a towel over his shoulder and his chef’s coat unbuttoned at the neck. He runs a hand through his black hair and squeezes Isla’s shoulder. “I’ll clean up in here. You go ahead to the Harlequin. Let the others handle the prep. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Isla puts her head in her hands. “Why does this have to happen right now?”
“Let me help you,” Ivander says.
Zora shakes her head. “No way. It’s too dangerous for you to miss a call time. You remember what happened last time.”
Niko gives Isla’s shoulder one last squeeze and returns to the galley to clean up from our lunch.
Alana stands to help Isla to her feet. Alana’s family gets mad if she’s late, but that won’t stop her from trying to help.
Someone clears their throat behind us, and Alana turns to see Boss Balanyr holding his short spear in his rotting skeletal hand.
The upper-left side of his head is caved in, as if his skull lost its structure.
His split-open lip curls. “Alana Reyes, your family needs you right away. One of the children fell in the game room.” His threatening grip on his spear urges Alana to hurry.
She bites her lip and gives Isla an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Isla assures her. “Go.”
Something doesn’t feel right about allowing Isla to walk by herself on trembling legs to the tenth deck. I’m heading to the Harlequin too. The Stallards will be annoyed that I didn’t escort them to lunch, but they know the way.
“I’m going with Isla,” I announce. Zora exhales gratefully, and Ivander turns in sharp surprise toward me.
I bristle at his reaction. Why does he have to question my motivations?
I decide I don’t care. This is for Isla, not for him.
Something tells me either of them would have gone with Isla if missing a show wouldn’t get them in serious trouble.
I can’t send Isla to struggle through this alone. Not when she helped me on my first day despite knowing almost nothing about me.
As for me, I’ll be in minor trouble. My little stunt with the bosses proved one thing.
The Damarcus name couldn’t save me from my failed trial or the Celestial, but it makes the bosses scared to touch me.
A sliced ear here and an arm gash there, but they’re too nervous to really threaten a Damarcus.
My father holds too much power over their positions on future charters.
Ivander was right. They won’t jeopardize my chance at a retrial unless they’ve exhausted every other option.
Isla stands over a sauté pan, frying delicate black murdo fish with one hand on a spatula and another clamped over her abdomen.
Murdo, found off the coast of Sarryndar, are known for their four creepy eyes and jet-black scales that enchant the upper class.
I stand beside her, dredging the filets in flour, dipping them into a beaten egg mixture, and rolling them in a blend of breadcrumbs and seasoning that seems as complex as one of Father’s potions.
The coating conceals the fragile black meat I spent an hour plucking at with tiny tweezers in order to wrestle out the minuscule bones, inconveniently the same color as the rest of the dark fish.
With the chaos of chefs shouting at each other, I feel like I’m back home in our estate’s grand kitchen.
I used to run between our cooks, snatching fresh hearth fruit pastries from the cooling racks.
Isla talks as she cooks, even with the pain radiating through her gut.
“See how they get golden brown and crunchy? That’s the color you want.
I just enhanced some Kalenar Kurls to let the kids breathe fire after eating them, so I can’t taste anything now for about an hour.
Could get me into trouble if I’m not careful.
This fish costs as much as a yearlong cruise, so the bosses will have your head if you burn through inventory by overcooking it. ”
I nod but have no intention of taking that spatula.
Isla jerks her head to the other chefs throwing nasty looks in our direction. “They don’t like that you’re helping me,” she mutters. “They think I’ll have too good a chance at beating them for a retrial.”
“If they’re not getting a retrial,” I say loudly, “it’s because they’re gawking at us rather than cooking.”
The chefs scramble to look busy, and Isla claps me on the back. “You have a fiery streak, don’t you? I knew you did after your spirit attacked Boss Charmaine. I loved seeing the look on her face. Wonder why she hasn’t punished you more for it, though?”
Maybe because she’s almost as afraid of me as I am of her. My name might be keeping me safe, but I don’t want to say that aloud.
Isla nods to a group of boys in chef coats whispering to each other as they prep courses. “You see if those boys can cook like me with a knife in their side. They’d be crying.”
I give her a sly smile. “I think you’re the one with the fiery streak.”
“I’ve always had to be like this.” Isla shrugs. “I grew up with three siblings and parents who had to work all the time. Try taking your little siblings gortha pod hunting near the Gorthe hot springs all by yourself. The extra gemstones for digging up pods weren’t worth the headache.”
I let out a low whistle. “Eliza and I used to pick the herbs for Father’s potions. It was hard enough to avoid the poisonous ones without kids around.”
Isla bows her head and shoves the spatula into my hand. “Here. Take this. I’ve got to go to the restroom.” She calls over her shoulder as she runs. “Pity me, and I’ll pour boiling water on your foot!”
Now I’m alone at the stove, holding a spatula.
Sizzling bubbles of oil leap from the pan, singeing my skin.
I can’t remember how many times she said to turn them.
Frozen with indecision, the charcoal smell of burnt batter makes me want to puke.
Before I can decide whether to scrap the filets or try to save them, Niko swoops in.
“Let’s not burn down the ship.”
He moves the pan off the heat and removes a few coals from inside the stove. “Alana told me to find you,” he says, somehow salvaging the murdo. “The Stallards are done with dessert, and unless you get out there soon, they’re going to be late for the afternoon show.”
Bless Alana for checking on my family too. I rip off the chef’s coat to reveal my uniform. I’m about to run back into the restaurant when I skid to a stop. “Will Isla be okay?”