18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Viola
T he ocean air whips my hair around my face as I lean over the railing, a soft spray from the churning blue waves coating my heated skin.
The sun had barely risen, but I could not sleep any longer and longed for the fresh air of the deck, so I slipped out here a few hours ago to be alone with my thoughts.
We're on day two of our journey, and aside from the storm Mace and I accidentally caused last night, it has been easy thus far. This morning, I noticed the crew cleaning up debris that was blown onto the ship and splits of wood from a mast that cracked slightly during our intimacy-induced storm.
My face was flushing as I helped them clean up. They tried to tell me I was their guest and didn't need to help, but I couldn't let them clean up my mess on their own.
I'm still grappling with how I feel after sleeping with Mace again. He's not wrong that I was trying to hide from my emotions and his. Anger at Mace telling the crew I was their savior quickly gave way to things I have been trying to avoid thinking about.
I feel trapped under so many layers of guilt I think I may never swim to the surface.
Why am I the one who lived and not Max?
I can't have been the only person in Dalery with inherent Winter magic, so why is this now my responsibility to manage?
Am I betraying Link's memory by embracing the powers that two people decided he had, ultimately killing him because they were wrong?
What if I am not able to bring the Gods back? What if I doom the world to eternal Winter under Himureal?
How can I be okay with feeling anything other than loathing for the man who has direct culpability in the death of my parents?
I have to figure out what I want because Mace has already made up his mind, and it is not fair of me to leave him drifting in the wind, attaching faith and affection to someone who maybe can never return those feelings.
Because that's the question, isn't it? Can I feel those emotions I felt towards Link again?
Is it a betrayal if I do?
I truly did love Link. I loved him in the way any young person loves – with my entire being, desperately, obsessively. Every second away from him hurt. What would it feel like to love now, as jaded and broken as I have become? When young, love feels like the only thing that is of importance in the world. I would've given anything to keep Link beside me, to stay trapped in just one moment with him.
Now, as someone who has been chewed up and spit out, who has been beaten and bloodied, and done the same to others, what would love even look like?
Before my thoughts can continue to spiral out of control, I'm joined by a short blond woman wearing a large grin, blue linen pants, and a soft gray blouse.
"You slept with Mace," Tulip teases.
"I will throw you overboard."
She laughs, leaning over the railing to look into the water. "No, you won't. You love me too much. You kissed Zeph to save me."
I groan loudly, turning to press my back against the banister. "I completely forgot about that. Did you come out here to remind me of all my sexual indiscretions?"
Tulip slides next to me, pressing her arm into mine. She still faces the water, but the casual skin contact is something she's ramped up lately. I suspect that, like me, she's feeling a bit out of sorts being back in the Lowlands. "We're heading home," she mutters quietly. "Without Twig."
"We are." I cannot offer platitudes. I know they will do nothing to assuage the guilt she must be feeling at being the twin who lived. What must it feel like to have the other half of you ripped away as she did? Tulip is good at hiding her emotions, preferring to live under a ray of sunshine than drift into the darkness, but I've seen glimpses of the grief flicker across her face. "Are the nightmares still happening?"
"I doubt they'll ever go away. Last night, Plume comforted me, though, and it helped. She's very calming. Morrow just watched. It was odd. But it was nice that Plume held me."
"Morrow probably just watched because he's afraid to cross a line with you," I muse.
"A line?"
"Tulip, don't be dense. The man has been trying to get your attention from the moment he walked into the garrison. He must've felt it was untoward to comfort you in that moment."
She sucks on her teeth for a moment and then shrugs. "If he wants my attention, Lola, he should ask. Otherwise, I'm going to continue about how I have been." Tulip turns and mirrors my stance, looking over at me. "I want to introduce you to a few people when we get to Pran. I know all my family is…" she trails off.
"I know. Mine too."
We're quiet for a moment, both of us sinking into the realization that we are all the other has.
A sharp inhale precedes her next words. "One of them is an elder in the village who may be able to help us. My family is said to be descended from the high priest of Solarius. I think she can help us track down the journal."
Clapping her shoulder, I can't hide the excitement in my voice. "That's brilliant, Tulip. I knew there was a reason I let you travel with me and Max during the Race."
She gasps. "You didn't want me to come along?" I cough, scratching the back of my neck. "I'm kidding. I knew you didn't want me around. But it looks like I grew on you." She looks pleased as can be, taunting me.
"Not sure how that happened, but here we are. You' re my family now, Tulip. But fair warning, it seems like all my family dies."
She snorts. "Mine too. Looks like we're in good company."
Plume is not doing well with sea life. Because of the storm last night, she's been locked in her room for the majority of the day, sucking down a tonic meant to help with the sickness in hopes of keeping her food firmly in her stomach. I check in on her frequently.
"Hi Viola, I'm fine. You don't need to keep coming here," she whimpers, sitting up in her bed, sweat-soaked sheets clinging to her body.
"Okay, but that's a lie. You're clearly not fine. What do you need?" It's not in my nature to be nurturing, but I feel indebted to my travel partners, and this is one way I can ease the pressure that causes. But my body is tense at the idea of being a caretaker, a role I have never fallen into, and I'm sure it shows.
She shakes her head and pushes me away as she rolls over to hurl into a bucket on the side of her bed. "I'll be fine, really. I would much prefer no one saw me like this. It's bad enough Tulip and Morrow have to see me in like this, but at least they're asleep for most of the time." Her lovely, wavy blonde hair is matted and soaked with sweat, and her shirt sticks uncomfortably to her.
"Do you want to come up to the deck, get some fresh air?" Her face turns green at the suggestion, and she waves me away, urging me to leave the room. "Okay, okay, got it. I'll tell everyone to steer clear until after dinner, yeah?" She groans in agreement as I turn to leave.
I run directly into Morrow's broad chest on my way out the door. "Sorry there, Shadowweaver," he purrs in his deep, silky voice.
"Please don't call me that." I roll my eyes as I pull the door to the room shut behind me. "Plume wants to be left alone. Let's head back up deck."
He follows me as I climb the stairs, calling after me, "Why not call you that? It's your title. And you may not like it, Shadowweaver, but you're a God now. We use the Gods' titles more than their names."
"Even if I am a God, I would think someone who is as close to me as you are would feel just fine saying my name," I bite back.
He guffaws, holding onto the banister to keep from falling down the stairs with the force of his laughter. "Close? We're close?"
Spinning on my heel to look at him, I notice that with a few steps between us and me several inches taller than him, I tower over him right now. "I don't let people in. The fact that you're here, in my travel party, pretending to be married to the one person I would raze the world for, says you're closer than most. Close enough to use my first name."
"Duly noted, Viola. But my marriage to Tulip is anything but pretend. She just doesn't know it yet."
It's my turn to laugh loudly, but the wind of the deck spirits it away quickly. Mace turns and catches sight of me, and my face flushes at the memory of last night, the way he satisfied me and soothed my ragged soul so easily. I'm still not ready to fully address or accept all the conflicting emotions that come with being around Mace Nightroot, head of the Patricians, figurehead of the Race. But this Mace, on the deck of a ship, shaggy hair whipping in the wind, a burnt orange button-up shirt with the sleeves a little too short hugging his chest, and a pair of black cotton pants slung low on his slender hips? This Mace is someone I can lose myself in.
Morrow and I walk to where he stands on the deck, watching the slowly setting sun on the horizon. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes greet me by drinking me in. I can't help rolling my own and shoulder-checking him as I sidle next to him. I stare at his profile, that sharp, slightly pointed jaw, his large nose, those high cheekbones, and let my eyes travel down his shoulders and arms, corded with lean muscles. His hands grip the banister tightly, long fingers sporting white knuckles.
Uncharacteristic giggles overtake me, and I bury my face in my hands to hide them.
"What are you laughing at?" he asks, meeting my laugh with a chuckle of his own.
"Remember that time Zeph kicked your ass?"
He groans, hanging his head. "Do I ever."
"Well, do you remember what I told you that night when you came to me to warn me he was kind of losing his mind?"
He wrinkles his nose and turns to face me fully, resting his elbow on the railing. "I don't think so. I was kind of going through a lot that night unless you forgot."
"I didn't forget, trust me. Well, since you don't remember, let me remind you. I told you that night that I was imagining you as a fisherman. I thought you looked like a fisherman, and now we're here on a boat." Laughter bubbles over again.
Morrow looks up from his gaze at the sea, "Your sense of humor is odd, Shadowweaver."
"You had to be there, Morrow," Mace says, his eyes sparkling. "I hope I live up to your fisherman dreams, my numen."
A loud crash and the lurching of the ship quickly wipe away the grin on my face.