Chapter 22
J A N E
T he breaking of dawn brings an empty stomach and dry lips. My body nearly collapses from exhaustion in his arms once sleep took over; he even placed a blanket over me at some point, although I’m alone in the hammock now. I’m not used to rolling out of these things and nearly fall over to see the man is already dressed for the day.
“You don’t sleep much,” I say, noting that he still dons most of his weapons.“Also, why did you move me?”
“I need less than most people.”
Before, I might have prodded about what I learned from Bones, but I almost don’t even care if he doesn’t want to tell me. Knowing wouldn’t change anything, and Soren is the type of man who will live a life with many secrets.
I understand how important they can be to keep—Cypress’s desire to put a ruby into my skin creeps in; I shut that off and even tell myself it was made up, just so I can avoid letting any feelings about it move to Soren.
I swear he was going to ask me about it, right before I fell asleep. But he didn’t, and I’m not sure why. If anything, him not asking almost has the opposite effect and makes me want to tell him.
He lays out rags to clean ourselves with, and I do a quick pass over my body after all that sweat and cold ocean water that got on my skin. “Why haven’t you asked more about Cypress?” I finally utter, unable to handle it any longer. If the witch really wanted me not to speak, she would have made it more obvious. Cursed me a little; something .
Soren also hands me clothes my size, staring me down. “I don’t have a clear answer for you, Jane. Everything within me tells me not to.”
“What?” I wasn’t anticipating that, dressing slowly as I think that over. “That’s different.”
His sigh mixes with a growl like he hates the mere idea of this conversation. “If I trust what I feel, I can only imagine that whatever Cypress told you might actually be best kept without saying a word to me. But then that means trusting Cypress, and I hate that.”
That changes everything within me. “She did make it seem like you shouldn’t know, Soren. Like it would make things worse .”
That man stares me down, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he hardly blinks. “Do you think it would?”
My eyes move around as if trying to track a fly, completely taken aback by this sense of responsibility. Would him knowing he can’t read me hurt this? In many ways, no . It makes logical sense. If I fall into enemy hands, for any reason, being cut off from them would only help. But it might drive Soren mad, sending him into an even more protective mode to keep me out of Misery’s hands.
Cypress thinks I’m useful and that my actions can help . And I can’t tell if me withholding that is just to please some neglected pride within myself, or true strategy. “Can I think on it?” I ask.
He gives a curt nod, before motioning a bandana in my direction. I wrap it around my hair, and he adjusts from behind, the fabric rustling my braided hair until it’s situated. My outfit is essentially everything I normally wear just looser, and he even aids me into a bodice to keep my breasts in place. There’s no way I’m moving about with floppy tits, as a certain blonde would put it. I smile sadly when her face enters my mind, and as Soren’s tying the back. “What is it?”
“I miss Kathleen,” I admit without reservation. “She’s the one that taught me about finding a properly fitting bodice and how comfortable they can be.”
“She’s very safe where she is.”
There’s not a lot more said because I’m tired of worrying, and at some point, I have to hope for the best. It kills me to think I may never get to see her again, but imagining her face in my mind’s eye makes me feel like she would be majorly pissed if all I did was wallow when I’m sailing on a pirate ship .
I’ll keep my head up for you, Kathleen. We promised we’d share these stories one day.
The two of us make our way to the mess deck, and I follow closely in his shadow. My presence garners a lot of attention, and so does Soren’s, a sea of gazes bouncing between us. Especially when he has to duck to avoid certain beams.
“What do they eat here?” I ask, passing by one man sweeping the deck.
“The swaying of a ship means fires aren’t the safest. So, biscuits, dried meats, and beans. Stews when it’s calm.”
Don’t complain . “Delicious.”
He smiles at me. “Do you miss being spoiled, Jane?”
“That’s your fault. And at least I like beans.”
“Well, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself on board, then.”
The hustle and bustle of the crew is captivating, especially since I feel completely removed from danger with Soren here. They all remind me of the coal miners, where each person has a role to keep the rest flowing.
A man passes Soren, one that looks to belong to him, handing over something wrapped in leather.The Zenith takes it as if nothing occurred, indicating to our table—one of the few in here—which is also bolted into the ground. The behemoth sits across from me, my back to the ship’s wall. I can’t spot my dad anywhere when I survey the space, which feels cramped with the low ceiling.
“Where is my dad?” I ask, feeling like a lost kid since he’s the second person I’ve asked this about.
“Around here, somewhere. Felt him earlier.” A man who definitely belongs to Tempest nears us with a bowl of beans, and some biscuits wrapped in linen, crumbs dusting the table’s surface. His skin is kissed so much from the sun he may as well have been smothered by it; his nose and cheeks are red, his hands as dry as sand. A chained necklace with a wolf pendant dangles as he bends over to place the food on our table. “Tempest says if you need any more food, let us know, sir. Not much of a selection, but we do have plenty of it.”
He turns around just as quickly as he appeared, swaying fluidly like he knows the exact motion the ship will make.
Casually lifting his fork packed with beans, Soren sucks in his lips before pressing them together. “I hate beans.”
The comment incites a small, high-pitched laugh out of me, which only continues to roll into a full one; I didn’t expect his weakness to be a legume . I take a large mouthful, surprised it has some of the same seasonings that Mom used to use. “I think they’re delicious.”
The clinking of utensils on plates and laughter from those around gives us a sense of privacy as he forces himself to eat. I lean over on my elbows. “You better eat all of that. I bet you need a massive amount.”
“Just like training back in the day when I ate shit food.”
After a few large bites that he forces down, he rests his fork on the table and reaches down to the wrapped leather handed to him, sliding it across the table to me. “The blacksmith with your father was adamant he’d get this made before we left. He handed it to me after we parted back in the Undercroft.”
“What is it?” I ask, looking at the soft, brown leather.
“I don’t know, almost like it’s difficult to open and find out,” he sarcastically replies.
I throw him a look like I’d hit him if he were closer. Reaching out, I unwind it until a sheathed dagger is revealed, along with a holster for the thigh. At the center of the hilt is a rose, with what looks like tiny vines wrapping around each side. The sheath is bright red, with bronze fastenings at the top and bottom. “What…”
“I had him make you a dagger. You were so worried about being useless,” Soren clarifies, leaning over and drinking some water. “Figured it was worth getting you something that shows you’re not. You’re your father’s daughter, that’s for fucking sure after everything I’ve felt. You should have your own weapon fit for someone of his rank. Of your rank.”
If I thought I felt romantic things for this man, this takes it to another realm I didn’t know existed. My fingers gently roam the smooth blade, utterly amazed at how beautiful it is.
“You…” I start, connecting my gaze with his. Pride gleams in his eyes, like he knows he did well. “I don’t—thank you.” I glance back down at it. “What if I lose it?”
“Why would you lose it?”
If Misery takes me… “There could be a fight, and it gets knocked out of my hands.”
My heart races when I still have no idea how to tell if Cypress’s warnings are valid or not. It would be so nice to get Soren’s opinion on what she said to me.
“Then we’ll make you another one. Use it for now. It’s from the strongest steel in Skull’s Row.”
It’s the first time in a while that my desire to cry is for everything but something that aches. “This is nice of you.”
“I can be nice,” he comments, his grating voice low and almost seductive.
What the hells is he doing? I’m nearly blushing over here. “I don’t have anything for you.”
“That’s not how gifts work, Jane.”
“Can’t believe I’m getting taught about gift-giving from you,” I mumble, turning the blade over in my hand. “This is gorgeous, and thoughtful, Soren.”
“Red is a color I tend to prefer,” he replies so smoothly I half-wonder if he’s about to ask for a favor after buttering me up.
But then his face hardens to the shell it was when we first met as he looks over his shoulder.
Basilisk approaches through the crowd of the room. “Don’t mean to interrupt what seems to be a very good conversation,” he says, placing both hands on the table to lean over; they’re just as worn as Soren’s, and a shade darker. “We learned something from Shade that seems… relevant . Think you should go down and take over.”
Soren’s posture stiffens, his shoulders flexing underneath the loose fabric. “Glad they fucking involved me again ,” he replies, clearly pissed.
Shade ?
“Tempest wanted one more word with him before you were brought down. I’m here to retrieve you.” He glances my way; he and Soren so much alike in demeanor and attire. “I could watch her for you.”
“Jane comes too,” he immediately replies.
My brows raise as I look between the two.
Basilisk moves his gaze back at Soren. “He might not speak easily,” he says, as if to hint at something.
“And she needs to know what’s happening. It’s sort of relevant to her,” he sarcastically replies before glancing my way. “Unless you don’t want to.”
My fingers curl around the dagger’s hilt. I’d like to slit his throat for nearly ripping my hair out, but I know that will get us nowhere. “I can handle it. He worked with Misery, right? I definitely want to hear those answers.”
The dread that tragedy will strike us all resurfaces, but honestly, there’s something to Soren having this dagger made for me that makes it feel like I will be alright.
A sentiment to show that I’m not alone.
That has to count for something, right?
I drown out the worry of knowing that whatever comes next it won’t be easy. Or remotely safe. But that’s fucking Skull’s Row, isn’t it? I also can’t ignore how there has to be a weakness within Misery. If he does take me, I’m the only one that can get close to him and not die. At least, he needs my heart beating to use me however his sick mind needs to, which means an opening.
An opening that Cypress is meddling in —the acceptance that being close to Misery might be the only way we ruin him sits on my shoulders like a weight that won’t let me stand. It’s not like I can get close without being taken .
Later. Focus on Shade.
I immediately begin wrapping the holster around my right thigh, affixing the dagger to my leg before standing with Soren, whose eyes are back in his mercenary gaze. I fall into a comfortable silence as I’m ready to follow them, knowing that somewhere in my mind, to truly save lives, I might have to offer myself, and the fucker named Shade has information I need.I’ll need everything I can get before facing Misery.
I’m ready to kill this stupid god and be worthy of the tattoo on my chest so I can finally live without worrying who is in my shadow for once.