Chapter Four #2
Her mother’s letter had moved with her day to day, from dress to dress, and slipped beneath her pillow at night. She hadn’t yet had the courage to open it, but knowing it was there, folded into the heavy linen of her skirts, was a source of both comfort and endless torture.
Even now, as she sat beside Ceri on the forecastle, their backs braced on the wooden railing, her fingers grazed the wilting edges of the parchment.
She stared out at the waves between the rails, dully aware of the book in her hands having slid to the deck.
Her mind tripped back and forth over the few words she’d seen inked out in her mother’s hand before she’d folded the letter away in a panic.
The ghostly strikes and swirls of each word played out against the deep blue surface of the water, as though some invisible hand had taken a quill to the inside of her skull and scrawled them over and over again.
Adeline.
Your note.
Adeline, I received your note—
“Adeline!”
“Hmm?”
Ceri’s voice swiped at her wandering attention, but she turned around to find the other girl still hidden behind the hardback in her hands, though her arms were tensed around her knees. Adeline blinked at her, waiting.
“Your book, for the love of Adhlas,” said Ceri. She spoke hurriedly from one corner of her mouth, the words running together so quickly that Adeline couldn’t quite keep up with their meaning. “Quick, your book, pick up your book—”
“Well, hullo, Your Highnesses.”
Pike bounded up the stairs, and Adeline could have sworn Ceri gave a muffled groan beneath the shelter of her novel.
Ah. That’s what she was talking about.
It was too late, though. Pike had spotted her unoccupied, and even if he hadn’t, Adeline wasn’t sure she’d have had it in her to outright ignore him.
She knew he’d been getting under Ceri’s skin, and she couldn’t blame her for that; he had been following the Merrow girl around the ship since their initial tour, either unaware of her growing discomfort or too arrogant to care either way.
Adeline had known plenty of men like him; had been blessed to have Ger as a buffer most of the time.
But years of noble manners had been so thoroughly drilled into her that she found herself compelled to return Pike’s greeting with a polite smile and a nod, as though he were a courtier passing by on the ballroom floor.
Pike swaggered forth from the stairway and planted himself squarely before them with one hand curled around a spoke of the Captain’s wheel and the other resting on a jutted hip.
“Beautiful day!”
Adeline had to crane her neck to look up at him, and she squinted against the sunlight bouncing off his glorious golden curls.
“It’s lovely. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a sky so blue.”
“Oh ho!” Pike exclaimed, with such vicious delight that Adeline regretted her throwaway remark even before he spoke another word. “Grey skies over the Silver Kingdom, eh? You won’t miss that, I’d wager, not once you behold mighty Dhalias in all her beauty.”
“I’ve had the pleasure,” said Adeline, though this was far from the first time she’d told him so. “My father comes from—”
But Pike was plainly not listening, already having lost interest in swapping niceties.
His eyes drifted magnetically to the sleek dark crown of Ceri’s head, the only part of her that was visible behind the heavy shield of her book.
His lips ticked to one side in a smirk that was just a shade less than predatory; the smug smile one might bestow on a prized trinket, something pretty and coveted by all.
Ugh. Adeline found herself wishing she’d had the pluck and mental energy to ignore him in the first place. Especially as he spoke his next words in the oily drawl he seemed to reserve for Ceri alone.
“And what of you, Merrow Princess?”
Ceriwyn lowered her book slowly, let it rest on the slope of her skirt over her bent knees. She spared him a glance and the barest of smiles.
“My brother is a king, Mr Pike,” she reminded him. She spoke politely, but Adeline could feel the tension thrumming from her. “I am not a princess.”
Pike clutched at his chest.
“Princess of my heart,” he declared.
Ceri tried to smile, but the inward curl of her lip rather gave the impression of physical pain. She drew her book subtly closer, readying the shield.
“I trust you’ve never seen the likes of the Dhaliaan mountains.”
Not really a question, so much as an oddly smug statement.
“Indeed,” said Ceri. Adeline was sure she didn’t imagine the dryness in her tone. “My people are water dwellers.”
“As am I, little princess,” Pike grinned, and Adeline squirmed. Daughters help them, this man was insufferable. “We’ll have even more in common, now that you’re in search of a new home in Dhaliaan waters. A better home.”
Ceri raised her book a little higher, and even Adeline couldn’t help but grit her teeth. It wasn’t so much the words that got her back up as the utter lack of tact behind them—the blowhard attitude that carried them. A better home for the merrow than the one the Frost had stolen from them?
Ceri flipped a page in her book, no longer looking up from it now as she said in a bored, practised tone, “I think I speak for my fellow merrow when I say we were more than happy with our life in the Laune.”
Pike boomed a laugh.
“Ah, yes, well, we’ve nothing quite so grand as your Lake Laune in Dhalias—though at least our lakes move with the breeze.”
He huffed a smug breath; not quite a laugh, but near enough to have Ceri scowling behind her book. Oblivious, the sailor turned to stare out over the endless blue depths with a deep sigh. His mouth puckered, eyes narrowed in what appeared to be an imitation of pensiveness.
“I’ll tell you what; I wouldn’t trade the ripple of those waves for all the magic of the Silver Kingdom; not me.
The ocean, though,” he paused, nodding deeply, inhaling as though he’d draw all the salt out of the air and trap it within his lungs.
“That’s my home. Lakes are a different kettle of fish altogether. ”
Adeline snorted, and Pike’s head whipped around to shoot her a reproachful glare.
“A different kettle of fish,” she repeated. “Fish?”
His glare slid into a sort of blank bewilderment, one sun-bleached brow lifting, before he promptly lost interest and turned his attention back to Ceri.
She remained buried in her book, so engrossed it was almost as though she’d forgotten he was there—but Adeline could see her knuckles whitening where they curled around the hardcover.
“Lakes are surrounded by land, you see, but land is surrounded by ocean.” He pressed his lips together and nodded slowly, as though he’d imparted some great wisdom. “Do you follow my meaning, princess?”
Ceri lowered her book into her lap once more and took a long, shuddering inhale. For a moment, Adeline thought perhaps he’d finally reduced her to sighing with open disdain, but then the Merrow girl tilted her head at him.
“I have some idea, Mr Pike.”
She gave her gills one long, deliberate pulse, the thin scars beneath her jaw fluttering open like tiny pink wings against the white of her throat.
The sailor flinched back so suddenly he stumbled into the wheel and set it careening around, the ship swaying drunkenly for a moment before he grabbed a hold of one of the spokes and yanked it back, then used it to drag himself upright, panting.
He blinked at them, beet red and finally shocked into a flustered silence.
Adeline tried to contain the laugh that shot through her, but succeeded only in muffling another undignified snort behind her hand.
Ceri giggled.
And from there, there was no helping it.
Their laughter collided and snowballed until Ceri had dropped her book to clutch at her stomach, and Adeline could barely see for the hysterical tears spilling over her cheeks.
They laughed and laughed, and at first Pike forced a laugh of his own.
But when they could not stop, could not even breathe nor hear his endless droning over their hysterics, the sailor finally gave an irate tut and wandered off, muttering something about silly little girls.
“Mercy,” Ceri moaned between breathless huffs of laughter. She let her head fall back and begged the skies for an end to her hysterics, imploring Mother Adhlas, the same ancient goddess Kai often called upon.
Ceri had an arm wrapped around her middle as though physically holding herself together, but Adeline managed to grab onto the railing above her head and heave herself upright.
With her feet beneath her, it was easier to breathe.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the warmth of the sun as she gasped down a steady, calming breath, then another, until nothing moved through her but the slightest of hiccups.
“Off he goes then. I’ve never seen a grown man stomp quite so petu—” Ceri cut off with a sharp inhale, then hissed, “Oh Adhlas, really?”
Adeline opened her eyes to the sound of Ceri storming across the forecastle and followed her to the opposite railing, where the merrow girl proceeded to glare out over the deck. She followed her gaze—and stopped breathing, for just a moment.
Pike stood in the shade of the crow’s nest, almost halfway across the deck. Though he faced away from them, they could read the tension in every line of his body. His stance was wide, the width of his shoulders squared and taut, with one hand fisted at his side—and it was easy to see why.
His other arm was caught in the firm grasp of the Merrow King.
Kai held a sword in one hand, and by the way he gripped it, knuckles white and forearm corded with tension, Adeline did not immediately recognise it as a practice blade; not until she noticed Simon hovering nervously behind the king, his own dulled blade loose at his side.