Chapter Twelve
They completed all the deliveries, including the specialty cheese, exactly on schedule, which Marin was regretting as the island of Flicker came into view.
If she’d been less efficient, less good at her job, or if the weather had been less ideal, she could have “accidentally” missed the festival and said, “Oops, sorry—tried, but the sea, you know how it is” to her parents days, even weeks, later. But no, it hadn’t occurred to her.
It would have disappointed Ma and Pa.
She’d done enough of that.
It also would have disappointed the very nice couple who had been ecstatic to receive their unicorn cheese and other specialty slices.
They’d gushed to Marin about how they planned to serve the cheese at their wedding to make the event as special and magical as possible.
They’d also shared their plans to create enchanted folded napkins, which … why?
“Are you all right?” Dax asked.
“Sure. Yes. Of course. Why?”
“You look tense. Your”—he gestured toward her—“shoulders are practically in your ears, and you’re gripping the helm like you’re trying to squeeze water out of it.”
Her left hand was squeezing the wheel so hard that her knuckles gleamed white through her silver skin, while her right hand held the mainsheet. “I am possibly a bit tense, yes.”
“Because of Iovar?”
She lost her grip on the line, and the sail luffed out. Catching it, she pulled it back into position and slid it into the cleat. “Let’s not ever say his name again unless it’s to tell me he’s been not-so-tragically eaten by a kraken, okay?”
“Sorry,” Dax said.
“I was thinking about the napkins.”
He accepted that deflection as if it were an honest answer, which she thought was kind of him. “I couldn’t bear to tell them it was a terrible idea. If they’d just wanted to fold the napkins into the shapes of swans, that would have been fine, but to have them also enchanted to fly…”
Marin agreed. “What if someone spits out some gristly steak? Or uses it to wipe their nose? Guess it’ll make it a memorable wedding, as Aunt Whatever’s false teeth that she put in her napkin for safekeeping soar around the dance floor.”
Ree giggled, his leaves rustling.
“At least they’ll have the cheese,” Marin said.
“Good cheese is enough to build a marriage on,” Dax said. “They’ll be fine.”
Marin wondered how many marriages Dax had witnessed in order to say that so definitively, but then she thought of her parents, who’d met when her father had delivered pie to her mother’s house by mistake—and decided maybe unicorn cheese would be enough.
Not for me. But for other people. People who hadn’t sworn off love.
She sailed past Flicker Harbor. It was stuffed with boats, all the moorings full. Everyone came back for the annual festival. Given the crowds, it was possible she wouldn’t even glimpse Iovar. It should certainly be simple enough to evade any conversation with him.
Marin shuddered, thinking of what it would feel like to try to be polite so as to not make anything worse for her parents while simultaneously trying to salvage any shred of dignity. Fun.
“How can I help?” Dax asked.
“You can’t,” Marin said.
He drooped.
“But … thanks.” She stared at him a moment, absorbing the fact that he’d both offered and meant it. He was, it occurred to her, a beautiful person, both outside and in. She wished she hadn’t had that thought right before they were supposed to pretend to be something they weren’t.
Ree climbed onto the prow of the boat. Wind blew through his leafy branches, hard enough that a few leaves flew off. “Almost hooooooome! Your home, anyway.”
Pushing aside her swirling thoughts about Dax, Marin smiled. Ma and Pa were going to adore Ree. “My home is your home.” She meant it. He was her crew, even if she hadn’t intended to become anyone’s captain.
“Do you think your parents will have a spare pot?”
“Absolutely. You’ll be able to pick which color you want.”
“Pink,” Ree said automatically. “It pairs nicely with green. Ooh, but it clashes with orange. Stowy might not like it. How about purple? Or blue like the sea … Yes, blue!”
“I’ll ask Ma and Pa for a blue pot for you,” Marin promised.
She maneuvered Silver toward her family’s dock and tied off.
Looking out at the deeper water, she called to Perri, “Do you want anything? Cooked shrimp? Bluefish?” She hoped that coming into these harbors and coves felt like coming home to him too, even if there weren’t any other sea serpents here.
Did he know he was family? Did he ever miss his own family?
Out in the waves, Perri wasn’t paying attention to her—the winged cats had noticed his arrival and were flocking to him in droves.
“Whoa, that’s a lot of cats,” Ree observed.
“We’re known for that.” Marin shot a grin at their furry stowaway. “Stowy, I think you’re going to like it here.”
Sitting on the port side, the cat had noticed the flock and perked up to watch.
His wings were spread, and his tail twitched from side to side.
He didn’t, though, fly to join them. Marin wondered if he’d ever seen so many winged cats.
He’d been with a flock of strays at the conservatory, but it wasn’t like Flicker.
No place is like here. Marin secured the sails with Dax’s and Ree’s help and then they all disembarked.
Despite all her misgivings about Iovar and the mess she’d worked so hard to leave behind, Marin felt her heart lift as she walked toward her parents’ cottage.
It was still home, would always be home, no matter what.
She could smell Pa’s peach pie—he’d planned to bake several with the plan to only take the very best to be judged, so there would be plenty of “failures” for them to devour.
On the roof, the family’s winged cats were lounging in the sun, and Stowy flew toward them to claim a spot near the ridgepole.
One of the other cats, a gray-striped female with silver wings, hissed at him, and Stowy hissed back.
They both glared at each other for a moment, and then the other cat settled back down and folded her wings.
Stowy glared for a moment longer, then curled into a cinnamon roll and wrapped his tail around himself.
Another cat strolled closer and flopped down next to him.
Stowy lifted his head, as if considering a hiss, then chose not to.
Unable to contain her smile, Marin skipped up the remaining steps as Pa came out the back kitchen door with Ma close behind him.
Ma was carrying a flick, a traditional rattle made on Flicker that was used in the End-of-Harvest Festival.
It was filled with dried beans and painted however you liked, usually with the face of a cat but sometimes with pictures of dolphins or sea serpents or fall fruit.
Ma’s flick had been passed down for a few generations and had an old picture of a gray winged cat, the paint chipped and faded, but the crisp rattle of the beans inside was still solid and loud.
She shook the flick as she walked toward them, a big smile on her face.
Pa had his arms open wide. “Mariner!” he said.
“You came!” Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Speeding up, Marin ran the rest of the way and hugged him. “I told you I would.” Pulling back, she wiped his tears with her fingertips. “Pa, it hasn’t been that long. I was just here.”
“But you brought…” Whatever else he wanted to say was lost as he blubbered harder.
Marin glanced over her shoulder at Dax and Ree, who were halfway up from the dock. “Yeah, I have a crew now. It wasn’t entirely my idea, but you’re going to love them.”
He gripped her arm and smiled. “I already do. They’re with you.”
Joining them, Ma patted Marin’s shoulder.
“We just worry about you, alone on the sea. If we’d known you now have a crew, we’d have felt better.
” She had flour in her hair, as well as a streak of dough on her cheek.
Her eyes were bright as if she wanted to cry too, which was, Marin thought, a bit ridiculous.
Surely, they hadn’t been that worried about her.
“I wasn’t alone before,” Marin objected. “I had Perri.”
Dax and Ree reached them. “Hello. I’m Dax, and this is Ree.” He bowed politely, his knuckles held to his heart. She wasn’t sure which island’s culture he’d learned that from, but it was simultaneously elegant and sweet. Yeah, they’re going to love him.
Ree hopped in a friendly way, ankle-high. “Hi! I’m a sailor.”
“Hello, Ree the Sailor,” Ma greeted him.
“I’m not a sailor,” Dax said, with his effortlessly charming smile, “but I try not to get in Marin’s way. She saved my life back in Alyssium.”
Okay, that was overstating it a bit. “I offered him and his friends transport.”
“While the city burned,” Dax said.
“And that’s when you fell in love with her,” Pa gushed, “and swore to sail with her until the islands are reclaimed by the sea and stars fall into the waves.” He clasped his hands to his chest. “We swore those vows at our binding ceremony.”
Ma said, “We were young. The young are allowed to be overdramatic.”
Pa gasped and staggered as if wounded. “It wasn’t overdramatic! It was precisely dramatic enough, and I’d swear them again today.” He turned to Ma and took her hand, the one that wasn’t holding the flick. “You are more dear to me than the sun and the moon and the wide blue sea.”
This had already spun out of control, and Marin loved it, except for the assumption that Dax was in love with her, which was patently untrue.
Sure, he was enamored with seeing more of the world than the inside of the conservatory, and he was grateful to her for extracting him from the burning city, saving his friends, and showing him sights he hadn’t seen before, but it was a leap from gratitude to eternal love.
“Yes, that’s right,” Dax said, “except I fell for Marin the first time I met her.”
Excuse me?
Pa looked like he wanted to melt from happiness. “Oh? Tell!”