5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
I wake up to the cold. The chill sits on my skin and makes it almost impossible to catch a clear thought.
When my teeth begin to chatter, I notice that the leather strap is gone.
I touch my tongue, disbelieving, then work my jaw to ease the pain.
Straining my ears, I listen for shouts or boots drumming the deck, but there’s nothing. It must be in the middle of the night.
The wound in my foot still pulses, and with every pulse, pain rushes through me.
If the wound gets infected, I am doomed, unless they have a bonesetter.
A dark red stain is now visible where the nail pierced my foot.
The idea of ripping the makeshift bandage off turns my stomach, but there‘s no way around it if I want to clean it to avoid an infection.
A quick glance at the closed gate of my cell makes me sigh in relief.
Match has brought me the bucket while I was sleeping.
I crawl towards it, the chains that bind me rattling as they‘re dragged across the floor, not wanting anyone to wake and look after me.
I know that the men are sleeping in hammocks a few feet away, on the opposite side of the main hatch, their breathing rising and falling like the waves that carry the ship.
Leaning against the rusty bars, my face twists in agony as I unbind the piece of sail from my foot.
The blood sticks to it, so by removing the fabric, I will tear the wound open again.
Better to make it quick than slow. I count to three and rip it off.
The fabric tears free with a wet sound, and pain shoots up my leg so sharply my fingers dig into the boards beneath.
I scoop some of the water up with my hands and start to clean the open flesh.
It stings, but I know it’s necessary, so I breathe through it until the shake leaves my hands.
After I’ve finished, I make quick work of my nightgown and tear away a few strips using my canines.
I take one of them and wrap it around my hurt foot, then carefully clean the other ones in the bucket and hang them on the edge of it to dry.
Sinking back against the wood, exhaustion takes over me again and fuzzes the edges of my vision. My stomach grumbles, telling me something I already know. The sound is small but insistent. If I don’t eat something soon, my strength will fade away even more.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a movement underneath the stairs leading to the deck.
I go still, my breath caught halfway. What was that?
Cautiously, I lift myself up a bit to get a better look at the narrow space, but there’s no one there.
Great, so the stage of hallucinations has begun.
I rub my temple with my fingers, trying to get myself back together.
If I'm lucky, sleep will find me for a few more hours before sunrise, and I will come back to my senses.
I am about to make my way back to my favored corner of the cell when I catch the dark figure moving again.
This time, I can see the silhouette clearly.
A pirate leans against one of the wooden beams, looking in my direction.
He doesn’t bother to hide it. His head is tilted to the side, as if he were curious, trying to figure me out.
How long has he been watching me? Does he think I will simply accept that I’m being gawked at? Heat rises within me as my nails dig into the palm of my hand.
“Go away.” I spit, maybe a little too harsh for the position I am in. But I couldn’t care less. My back straightens on its own. I will not lose my worth, or my pride, to these men.
The pirate doesn’t move an inch. Instead, he tilts his head to the other side and crosses his legs at the ankles, getting comfortable. I pinch my brows together and clench my jaw tight.
“If you want to harm me, just know that I will fight back.” My voice trembles, and I hate myself for it. I carefully sit back up, getting ready to defend myself with all I have left. My gaze fixes on his throat. Will my canines be sharp enough to rip it open? Probably.
“You got yourself in a pretty inconvenient situation.” His voice is calm and quiet, like the sea when the sun rises on a beautiful day.
But there’s something unnatural about it that I cannot explain.
It sounds like a whisper that echoes through the ship, and though he stands a few feet away from me, it is as if he is whispering directly into my ear.
I fight the urge to cover it with my hand.
That man is not human—he cannot be. I am about to ask him who and what he is when he steps closer to my cell with his hands tucked neatly behind his back.
His posture is straight and proud as he makes his way over to me in long steps, though the boards do not creak under his weight. Maybe I am hallucinating after all.
I blink hard, once, twice.
“You fear me?” he asks, as if offended by my reaction, now almost standing directly in front of my cell.
Fear me?
Fear me?
Fear me?
His voice surrounds me and multiplies itself over and over again.
I clench my jaw, my whole body going rigid as I keep my eyes fixed on the stranger.
I can only see his silhouette, the darkness takes everything else, and the moonlight doesn’t help much.
My pulse hammers in my ears, blending with his voice.
“Yes,” I manage to mutter through clenched teeth.
There’s no point in lying. I am terrified.
He steps closer to the bars, likely glancing down at me, though it is hard to tell with the way his features flicker and blur at the edges.
I wonder what I must look like to him. My torn gown, the dirt, the bruises, the blood.
I barely recognize myself. In Aurelith I was poor, but I had clean clothes and food, even if it was stolen.
It wasn’t a good life, but it was mine. My throat tightens at the thought of what I have left behind.
“Fear me not. I am no threat to you. Never will be. But they are. You have to tell him the truth.” He crouches in front of the bars, one hand wrapping loosely around the iron.
I follow the shape of his face, only to find his eyes unnaturally dark, black, and empty.
The outline of his hands flickers faintly, surrounded by a dim silver light.
Something in him draws me in despite the fear crawling under my skin.
“Who?”
“The Captain.”
“What truth?”
His gaze lingers on the scales scattered along my collarbone. “You know what truth.”
I pull in a slow breath and let it out through my teeth, careful not to let him hear the tremor.
How can he know the truth about me? They think I am a witch.
I have given them no reason to believe otherwise.
I turn my face away, pretending to study the floor, though my skin prickles under his stare.
“Don’t play dumb now, lass.” His voice shifts, a quiet warning. “I saw you humming for the cabin boy. Beautiful sound, by the way. I was impressed and can admit that even I was almost drawn to it.”
My jaw tightens as I look back at him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
The faintest twitch touches the corner of his mouth, and I can’t tell if it’s amusement or cruelty.
Perhaps it’s the latter. If I tell the captain the truth, as he proposes, I will die a death they will write songs about.
“Why should I tell him the truth? He will toss me overboard."
He tilts his head, thinking. His other hand wraps around the second closest iron bar. The light from above glints faintly over his knuckles, making them vanish. I shift, the chain at my ankle scraping against the floor.
“Maybe. But he hates one thing more than sirens, and that’s a liar.”
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
The word lingers in the air, making my stomach churn.
“You seem to know the captain well,” I murmur, lifting my head again, trying to locate where his voice comes from, but it seems to come from everywhere. From the hull behind me, from the steps leading to the deck, from every crowded corner.
“Vaguely.”
Footsteps echo across the orlop. We both look toward the far side and fall silent. My heart stops for a beat, then rushes back into motion, pumping blood. When the sound fades, he turns back to me and lowers his voice.
“One more thing. Make sure the Glim doesn’t disappear again.” He glances down, his gaze lingering on my frame. “And ask for a new dress. They have plenty from their last raid, and I think the emerald one would look exquisite on you.”
My brows lift before I can stop them. Is he toying with me? I don’t even acknowledge his attempt to flirt with me. What intrigues me, though, is him mentioning the Glim, the silver light the pirates follow.
“What makes you think I can prevent the Glim from disappearing?”
“The Glim appeared when you set foot on the Noctis,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
I’m about to ask him more about the Glim when the sound of boots returns. I freeze and glance toward the steps, then back, but he’s gone. The space he occupied feels colder now, empty. It’s like he vanished into the shadows.
A lantern sways toward me, light spilling across the floorboards.
“What’s all that noise about?” the pirate in front of me murmurs slowly, as if he just woke up. “Who removed the leather strap?”
I freeze, heartbeat stuttering. I almost mention the ghost I just encountered, but decide against it.
He didn’t want to be caught, and I doubt they would believe me anyway.
“I don’t know. I woke up, and it was gone.” Luckily, lying has never been an issue for me. I do it without hesitation—probably a leftover siren trait.
The pirate sighs and rubs his temple with his other hand, clearly not convinced. His eyes briefly flick toward the chains, then back to me.
“I have to put it back on. The captain won’t like it if someone has disobeyed him.” He places the lantern on the floor outside my cell, the light reflecting in his honey brown eyes. They look kind, I realize, but they also hold pity in them.
“And drink, lass. You don’t look too good.” He adds and clears his throat.
I crawl to the bucket and cup water into my hands, drinking until my throat stops burning. The cool liquid steadies me a little. He unlocks the cell and steps inside, picking up the leather strap from where I slept. His boots creak against the boards as he crouches in front of me.
“Thank you,” I manage, hoping he hears the honesty in my voice. My fingers twitch in my lap. “What’s your name?”
He studies me for a moment, then quickly glances to the side before looking at me again. “Grim.”
He motions for me to turn. I hesitate only a second before obeying. He gathers my hair and places the leather on my tongue, pulling it tight behind my head to make a knot. The uncomfortable feeling makes my eyes water immediately.
I glance back in his direction and take a moment to look at my captor.
In the lantern light, I can see his hair is red, and a short beard frames his face.
He doesn’t look as young as the cabin boys, and several scars mark his face.
He must be in his thirties. His nose is crooked, as if it has been broken many times.
But he doesn’t look cruel. He looks like a boy raised by the sea, and the sea is unforgiving.
He gets up and steps out, locking the door again. The sound of the key turning echoes through the orlop.
“Oh, and lass,” he adds, turning slightly, “stop talking to yourself in the middle of the night. They’ll think you’re mad.”
He leaves the lantern by the cell and disappears into the dark.
Only then do I realize he never asked for my name. I stay still, staring at the faint glow on the floor. My heart hasn’t quite settled. The air feels too quiet, as if the ship itself is listening.
The ghost does not visit me again.