Chapter 5
The storm left us with three days of repairs. Omri worked around the clock to fix the damaged engine, while Tor and Knives reinforced the starboard wing support with spare metal plating. The rest of us helped where we could, falling into the rhythms of ship maintenance.
I found myself working alongside Cypher more often than not. He'd appear wherever I was—holding a ladder while I secured loose rigging, handing me tools while I helped Omri with engine repairs, checking my work with a critical eye that somehow never felt condescending.
We didn't talk much during these moments. But the silence felt different now, less hostile and more companionable. Like we'd reached an understanding through the storm.
On the third day, I was in the cargo hold taking inventory of supplies when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Cypher appeared, ducking under the low ceiling. "Knives said you were down here."
"Just checking our provisions. We lost some things during the storm." I gestured to a broken crate, its contents scattered across the floor. "Medical supplies, mostly. Bandages and antiseptic."
"Vic will want to know." He moved to help me gather the scattered items, and I was struck again by how he never asked his crew to do anything he wouldn't do himself. "How are you feeling?"
The question surprised me. "Fine. Why?"
"Using your rift senses that intensely for the first time can be draining. Some people experience headaches, disorientation, and nightmares." He picked up a roll of bandages and set it in the salvage pile. "I wanted to make sure you weren't suffering any adverse effects."
"I'm okay. Tired, but okay."
He nodded, accepting my answer. We worked in silence for a few minutes, gathering what could be salvaged and discarding what was ruined.
"You were right," he said finally. "The astrolabe confirmed it after we cleared the storm. If we'd tried to go around like I initially planned, we would have hit another storm system. Going through was the better choice."
"But you didn't trust my instincts at first."
"No. I didn't." He met my eyes, and there was something open in his expression that I hadn't seen before. "That was a mistake. You proved yourself during that storm. I won't make the same mistake again."
It wasn't quite an apology. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me for recognizing the obvious." He stood, brushing dust from his pants. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."
I followed him through the ship to a door I'd never seen him open before.
His private cabin, I realized as he unlocked it and gestured for me to enter.
The space was smaller than I'd expected, barely larger than the cabin I shared with Kora.
But it was neat and organized, with maps covering one wall and a small desk covered in navigation charts and journals.
A narrow bunk occupied one corner, and weapons hung from hooks near the door.
He moved to the desk and pulled out a leather-bound book, flipping through pages covered in cramped handwriting. "I've been to Nytheris before. I told you that."
I nodded. "You said it was as bad as the stories."
"It's worse." He found the page he was looking for and turned the book so I could see.
It showed a rough sketch of jagged floating islands, connected by energy bridges that the survivors attempted to make during the years they tried and failed to survive there.
"This is what I remember of the main island, Calvaris.
The Reliquarium is here, at the center. The royal archive is in the eastern tower. "
I studied the map, trying to memorize the layout. "When were you there?"
"Three years ago. The job went badly. I lost three crew members. Good people who trusted me to keep them safe."
I wondered for a moment, why nobody had mentioned those three crew members before now.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"Don't be. It was my fault. I underestimated the dangers, pushed too hard, made bad calls." He closed the book. "I swore I'd never go back. And yet here I am, because Gideon offered enough money to make me break that vow."
"What do you need the money for?" If it was that important, surely I could handle it.
He hesitated. "I'm trying to buy land. A place where my crew can settle if they choose. Wayfarers don't exactly earn a pension. We work until we die or get too injured to continue. I want another option."
The admission was so unexpected, so human, that I didn't know how to respond. This was the man who'd warned me not to look for a hero, who'd insisted he was just working for profit. But here he was, risking his life to give his small crew a future.
"That's not opportunist behavior," I said quietly with a small smile.
"Sure it is. I'm buying loyalty. Good crew members stay longer if they know there's something waiting for them besides death in the void."
"You can tell yourself that. But I know what I'm seeing."
His eyes fixed on me, searching my face. "And what do you see?"
"Someone who cares more than he wants to admit."
We were standing close—when had we gotten so close?—and I could see the flecks of orange in his eyes, and the faint scar that cut through his eyebrow.
He took a step back, putting distance between us. "You should go. We'll reach Nytheris in another week, and we both need to focus."
I left his cabin feeling off-balance, wondering what in the realms that was all about.
Hours later, when I should have been asleep, I was on my way to the galley for some late-night tea when I noticed the heavy door to the captain's office stood slightly ajar. I pushed it open, a question poised on my tongue, but the words died before they could even form.
Steam swirled in the warm glow of a crystal lamp, clinging to the humid air.
Cypher stood near a small table, his back to the door and his shirt discarded on a nearby chair.
He leaned over a basin of water, the heat rising in visible waves against the cool shadows of the cabin.
Water trailed down the valleys of his spine, disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.
The muscles of his back shifted as he splashed his face, skin glistening like wet clay.
My breath hitched and a curse fell from my lips, breaking the quiet. Cypher went perfectly still. He didn't turn right away, but the tension in his shoulders shifted, radiating an awareness that made the hair on my arms stand up. Slowly, he reached for a nearby cloth, but his hand stopped mid-air.
He turned to face me. Wet hair clung to his forehead and draped over his shoulders, the dark strands dripping onto his chest and over the scars that marked his torso.
The light from the lamp caught the copper of his eyes, making them burn.
He didn't speak. He just watched me, tracking the way my gaze lingered on the hard planes of his stomach before snapping back to his face.
The silence became heavy, thick with the scent of soap and steam. Cypher straightened, his immense height filling the small room, and began to move. He didn't rush. Every step was smooth, closing the distance until the steam from his body reached me.
Retreating was the only option. My heels hit the wall beside the door, the cold wood jarring against fire spreading under my skin.
He didn't stop until he was inches away, towering over me so completely that I had to tilt my head back to keep his gaze.
He was one of the largest men I'd ever seen in person.
"Looking for something, scavenger?"
"I... the readings," I managed to stammer, swallowing thickly, my mouth going bone dry. "The astrolabe..." It was coming out in jumbles. I felt like an idiot, and was ready to quite literally make a run for it.
Cypher leaned closer, his eyes dropping to my mouth for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again. He raised his hand, reaching toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, a quick breath escaping as I waited for the touch of his fingers against my skin.
Instead, the soft rustle of fabric sounded right next to my ear.
My eyes snapped open to see him pulling a small hand cloth from the shelf I hadn't realized was directly beside me.
He stepped back, a smirk playing on his lips.
He draped the towel over his shoulder and wiped the water from his face, never breaking eye contact.
"Anything else?"
I glared at him, my face likely flushing a deep crimson as I realized exactly how much he'd enjoyed that. "Forget it," I snapped, the words coming out more breathless than I liked.
Grabbing the door handle, I wrenched it open wider and stepped out into the corridor. I didn't look back, slamming the heavy wood shut with a force that rattled the frames on the walls.
I didn't stop cursing until I made it back to the deck, the question I'd been intending to ask, suddenly a mystery to me.
Kora cornered me the next evening in our cabin. "You've been spending a lot of time with Cypher."
I looked up from the blade I was cleaning—one of the daggers Gideon had provided, its fire core warm against my palm. "He's training me. Teaching me to use my rift abilities."
"Is that all he's teaching you?"
I raised a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?" I thought back to last night, heat flooding my cheeks as glistening wet skin flashed through my mind.
She sat on her bunk, fixing me with a knowing look. "I see the way you look at him, Junie. And the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching."
"Now I know you're imagining things."
"Am I? Because Zoya mentioned that Cypher never lets anyone in his private cabin. But apparently he made an exception for you last night."
Heat crept up my neck. "He was showing me maps of Nytheris."
"Uh-huh. Maps. Is that what we're calling it?"
"Kora—"
"I'm not judging. He's attractive in that dangerous, brooding way. And you've always had terrible taste in men."
"I don't have taste in men. I don't have time for men."