8. Chapter Eight #2
Without another word, he opens the heavy-looking door to the captain’s cabin and pushes me forward.
The sudden movement makes me stumble into the room, but I am able to prevent myself from falling by widening my stance, the chains from my cuffs clinking by my sides.
Two pairs of angry eyes land on me, their discussion cut short by my unexpected entrance.
The room is larger than I expected. A broad wooden desk sits in the center, its surface scratched and used, while a narrower table stands before the fogged-up window, scattered with letters held in place by a dagger driven through the wood.
To the left, there’s a shelf crammed with worn books, chests stacked beside it as if there is never enough space to hold everything this man owns.
On the opposite side, a massive bed is bolted to the wall, his dark coat thrown carelessly across it.
“What is that wench doing in the captain’s cabin?” the other pirate to Sable’s left spits, and I recognize him as the thick-necked one who brought me into the hold. Rat. I try not to roll my eyes at him.
“She can help us to pass the intermaria. She’s done it before, so she can do it again,” Grim argues in my favor, and I nod in agreement with him. Proving my usefulness and worth is crucial if I want to make it out of here alive.
“I know the sea.” The words come out of me in a low voice, sadness flooding through me as they leave my tongue.
While I know the sea, the sea sometimes doesn’t seem to know me.
Without wanting to, without even knowing why I do it, I look to Sable.
Whether a plea for mercy, for compassion, I cannot tell.
Sable’s eyes find mine. And for whatever reason, he looks at me like he understands my sorrow. My breath catches in my chest.
Averting his eyes, he clears his throat and points to a map that is pinned to the desk. “We will reach the intermaria in about ten days. According to the map, it stretches around 130 leagues, though the worst maelstroms will be in the center.”
Grim pushes me forward again until I am standing in front of the worn table. Two open bottles of liquor sit above the map, with a tiny ship carved out of wood resting between them.
I follow the fingers of the captain, as they trail from the Sea of Crowns to the Sea of Renewal and then tap on the area between them, indicating it to be the intermaria.
I sigh and lean forward slightly to get a better look at it. While he is right about the dangers of the intermaria, he misunderstands the concept of it.
“The intermaria is never in the same place. The seas do not stay within the lines of a map just because that is how they’ve been painted by a man. We could reach it in one day, or in ten. There’s no way to be certain.”
“If you think you can give us any lessons on how to read a map, then get back into your cell, girl,” the Rat snaps.
His captain lifts one hand, silencing him.
Then he gives me a short nod so that I can continue, a smile tugging at his lips.
There are no signs of the man who threatened me with a dagger in his face, no darkness clouding his eyes.
It’s as though it's an entirely different version of the Captain that stares at me now with expectation. A softer version. Less severe.
“The whirl does not spin forever. It pauses for breath. It rests. Where the foam stops curling tight, and the fast water meets the slow, that’s where we sail.
And then gain speed to cut across.” I take the beautifully carved ship into my hands and move it along the lines of a drawn maelstrom, following the edges of it, then place it down, struggling a little as the chains hanging from my arms catch on the table’s splintered edge.
The clinking metal is a heavy, inconvenient reminder of my place on this ship, that what I am currently doing might be considered overstepping.
“It is risky,” Grim points out, and stares at the map as if the solution to the risk lies between the dried ink. His sudden presence at my side startles me. “If the sails catch the wrong wind and we fall off the edge, even the sea wouldn’t be able to help us.”
“Nor would it venture to,” I stare into the whirling ink, near hypnotized. “The sea doesn’t want to help you. It wants you very, very dead.”
“Aye,” Sable says, our eyes meeting once again, though this time I successfully hold back the urge to glare at him. I give him a look that tells him I haven’t forgotten the knife he pressed against my throat.
He swallows and turns toward Rat. “Is the Glim still following the same route?”
“Aye, Cap’n. Nightglass has an eye on it. But it is fainter.” Amber eyes find mine, and I turn toward him, raising one brow in challenge, daring him to speak his mind. “Perhaps the filthy witch is manipulating it.”
I make a step forward with a hiss, ready to throw myself at him, but Grim is quicker, holding me back by a fistful of my skirts. Slightly embarrassed by my sudden lapse in composure, I calm myself with steady breaths and smooth out my dress with a gentle hand.
Sable clears his throat and I return my attention to him, as the pirates do. I expect him to comment on my outburst, but he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens and puts his hands behind his back, a move he seems to make whenever he’s about to bark commands.
“When it disappears again, tell me immediately. We must sail toward the intermaria unless the Glim decides to show us a different route. I don’t want to see a single wounded man on deck tonight.
That is an order,” He plucks the wooden ship from the table, throws it up in the air once, and then catches it.
He brushes his thumb over the tiny ship's carved sails. “The Noctis will not go down.”
“And if it does, we shall drown with it,” Grim and Rat say in unison, as though this is a mantra they have repeated time and time again.
The sound of it makes my skin crawl. These men must have been sailing together for a long time.
Rat pushes himself to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor, and storms out of the cabin. The door slams behind him.
My gown sweeps over the boards of the cabin as I make my way around the table to Sable.
Grim is not holding me back, but by the creaking of the wood, I know he tails me in anticipation of another outburst. He turns his body to face me as I reach his side.
Face expressionless. Standing in front of the Captain of the Noctis, I clear my throat.
“You cannot read the water properly without me. I must be on deck.”
Sable carefully sets the ship back on the table before looking at me. “You will be out on that deck with me when the time is right, little fish. I cannot risk you losing a memory until the tribunal.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my rising temper and contain the siren clawing at my insides. I clench my fist at my side.
“My. Name. Is. Eryse.”
“Hmm.” His eyes scan my body, from my bare feet to the scooping neckline of my dress, to the scales that litter the skin of my collarbones.
He tilts his head, as though debating from looking at me whether my name fits me or not.
Or whether it's even worth remembering at all.
He smirks.“ Nope, Little Fish suits you well enough.”
I snap forward and bare my teeth at him, hissing and aiming for his throat.
The siren in me wants to see blood – to taste it –and she wants it now.
Another pull on my dress yanks me backward.
Sable doesn’t even blink. He just looks at me, unfazed, amusement tugging at his features.
“I think I must correct myself. It is a feisty little fish.”
My skin heats, and I see red. Blood red.
“Fuck you!” I spit out, anger coursing through me in harsh waves. Grim chuckling behind me only makes it worse.
“I will bring her into her cell until we reach the intermaria, Cap’n.” Another tug pulls my back flat against his chest.
Sable nods and closes the gap between us in one heavy-booted step.
I raise my chin in a silent challenge, my breathing heavy and growing more and more laborious as my anger gives way to fear.
I grow dizzy with the lack of oxygen as my siren-fogged brain comes to the realization that I am very much wedged between two pirates.
And I essentially just told them to go fuck themselves.
“Careful, little fish. My goodwill is not to be taken for granted.”
Holding his stare, I plant my feet on the ground and ignore the blood that continues to rush into my head.
Sable’s eyes shift from a light, foggy gray to a black as dark as ink.
The light behind him seems to flicker, but I do not break my gaze from him as Grim slowly pulls me away, until I have no choice but to turn to avoid stumbling backwards.
He does not let up on his shoving until I am out of the cabin and on the other side of the cell door. I lower myself onto the cot as the lock clicks shut. If Grim says something before he leaves, I do not hear it.
My thoughts are spiraling, thinking about the consequences of my bargain.
If I am right, the crew might show mercy at the tribunal.
If I am wrong, well, we are all doomed anyway.
At least Sable seems to recognize that I am their only hope to make it through the intermaria.
Something about him is otherworldly. The color of his eyes, how he gives nothing away.
He reminds me of the sea, and how flat and black it can look from above.
From a distance. Yet, there beneath that quiet surface, whole forests of kelp sway, currents cross and collide, and creatures with teeth like knives glide unseen.
He is dark. Clouded. His morality murky, his temper short.
And yet, I believe he is made of such depths.