13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
P irates are the most stubborn kind of humans I have ever met.
Turns out, finding a place for me to sleep is an almost impossible task.
The Noctis offers more than enough space, but all the cabins are already occupied by crew members with higher ranks, and apparently, about half of the crew members don’t trust me.
I guess that explains the tribunal votes.
I’ve already been threatened with being thrown overboard twice.
Three wanted to bed me in exchange for their bed, one spat horrible insults about my kind, and another was mute, so he only shook his head and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The worst thing about it is that, wherever I go, I have to take my dresses with me.
My mother always taught me that it is not polite to return a gift.
So before the sun sets, I find myself carrying the pile of dresses down into the orlop.
The steep steps almost make me stumble and fall twice, the fabric slipping in my arms, but in the end, my dresses and I make it down safe and sound.
The orlop is already dim, lit only by a few lanterns that sway gently with the movement of the ship.
Every creak of timber sounds louder down here, the hull groaning softly around us.
Lark is still preparing the hammock that he said he’d organize for me when he found me wandering earlier, and pulls the strings tight.
His father is by his side, instructing him on how to tie the knot the right way.
The pirate-in-training listens carefully as he pulls at the rope exactly as his father told him to.
“There you go,” Nightglass leans over to inspect the work. “That’s how you do a proper bowline knot.”
I carefully place my dresses on a clean-looking piece of sailcloth, smoothing the fabric once out of habit, then step toward the two sailors.
“Thank you for helping me with this.” I manage a soft smile, keeping my hands folded in front of me, unsure where else to put them.
At the same time, Nightglass steps half a pace back and pulls Lark with him. The space between us widens. Sighing, I nod in understanding.
“No lady should sleep on the floor. That’s what I’m teaching my son.” He places a hand on the smaller pirate and squeezes it, guiding him to turn, and moments later, they disappear into the dark, their footsteps fading toward the stern.
They’re both sleeping down here, a few feet away, on the other side of the stairs.
Lark is still a cabin boy, so he is the pirate with the lowest rank, or so he proudly told me earlier.
He didn’t forget to mention that I am even lower in rank, though, which would make him my superior.
It still means that he must sleep in the orlop.
His father doesn’t want to leave him down here alone, it seems, so they’re both here with a few other lower crew members. And me.
It is truly not the best place to sleep on a ship, but what counts is that I am not held captive anymore, behind iron bars.
I feel their eyes on me at all times while I’m on deck, as if watching a predator that might snap if given the chance.
Though they have seen me at my weakest today, there’s no sign of trust or even indifference.
I can’t blame them, though. I don’t trust them either.
There’s a chance that someone quietly slits my throat while I’m sleeping, the way they do at the markets to bleed the siren out and get the last drop of magic from her.
Then there’s the fact that I’m the only woman on board.
Thinking about it makes me shiver, so I shake it off and focus on something else.
While I was roaming the ship earlier, searching for a sleeping spot, I collected a treasure that I now keep around my neck — a charm carved out of bone in the shape of a shell.
I tell myself that it is fine, as they have stolen, I mean, organized it in the first place.
I don’t know why I kept it, but it kind of spoke to me.
Pirates believe that these kinds of charms bring them luck while sailing and spare them from foul weather.
Of course, that’s not true. The sea disregards such meaningless trinkets.
But belief has weight on a ship like this, and I’ve even seen the captain wearing them around his neck.
I also found a pair of boots. They’re a bit too big for me, worn thin with holes along the sides, but I took them anyway.
In the state they’re in, I doubt anyone will miss them.
And with the way my feet have already begun to ache, I couldn’t afford not to.
Suddenly, the lantern to my right flickers.
I curl my hands around the charm tightly without thinking and whip my head toward the light.
I wait, listening past the creak of wood and the distant murmur of waves.
Nothing moves. Exhaling, I shake my head and tuck the charm back into the neckline of my dress.
I test the hammock, gripping the ropes and shifting my weight carefully.
When I’m sure it holds, I lie down and sigh as the fabric cradles me.
This is so much better than the cell. The slow sway of the ship carries even here, and I can go on deck whenever I need fresher air.
The rest of the crew is already sleeping, though their distant snoring does not bother me.
I wonder if Sable gets some sleep tonight, or if his thoughts are as restless as mine.
If he hadn’t come for me, I would be dead now.
Just another life lost to the sea. I let the moment replay in my head.
His silhouette above me, the shock of his grip, my vision already blurring.
I screw up my face, remembering something else.
Something in the water. Something—or someone—pushed me upward.
It felt like smoke curling around my waist. Like… what I’m feeling now.
I tear my eyes open and stare into pitch-black eyes.
A scream claws its way up my throat, but a hand clamps over my mouth. It feels strange against my lips, weightless and heavy at the same time. Ribbons of smoke coil around his fingers, dusted with silver-blue sparks when the lantern light catches them.
I can make out his frame and clothing vaguely from the outlines. He’s wearing breeches and a loose shirt, tugged inside of it in a messy way.
“Shh.” He presses one finger against his mouth, instructing me to be quiet. My muscles tense and I swallow, then exhale the breath I’ve been holding. The ghost removes his hand slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Just wanted to check in on you.” He moves back as I carefully sit up in the hammock, then takes a seat next to me. The hammock doesn’t dip because of his weight, it is as if he’s not sitting in it at all.
“Sea almost took you today. Cap’n took a risk saving you.”
“He said I should not talk to you.” I swallow down the knot in my throat and hug my legs to my chest.
“And you listen to what the captain says like a good girl, huh?” It looks like he shakes his head and chuckles, but I can’t be certain. His movements are delayed and blur into each other, and his voice overlaps with itself with every word. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that I was dreaming.
I think of what Harrow said, that talking to these shadowy beings keeps them away from where they should be. That I shouldn’t even acknowledge them. So I close my eyes and press them together as tightly as possible, trying to block him out.
“Go away,” I whisper, over and over again.
“You know that’s not going to work.” He’s closer now, his voice whispering directly into my ear, sending the hairs on the back of my neck into a frenzy.
Still, I ignore him. He sighs, and it multiplies itself over and over again as it echoes through the orlop. When I open my eyes, I expect him to be gone, but he has made himself comfortable in the hammock, now lying in it on the opposite side from me.
“What do you want from me?” I finally ask, disregarding the no-talking-to-the-ghost rule.
“I wanted to see how you’re doing after today’s suicide mission.” He shrugs, then runs a hand through what is supposed to be his hair. It looks more like black flames dancing on his head. I wonder what it would feel like if I were to run my own hand through it.
“I’m doing wonderful. Now, what else do you want?” I spit, a biting edge to my voice. I am done playing games today. Tiredness is bringing out the worst in me.
“The Glim. Summoning it won't be an easy task.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter as I lean back in the hammock. I wonder what it’s like being a ghost, and if he’s all alone on this ship.
“It’s a creation of the sea and will only show up when it must interfere,” he continues, stretching his limbs, his phantom legs brushing against mine. The sensation almost tickles, like walking through a spider web before you notice it. It isn’t unpleasant, just unusual. Unexpectedly pleasant.
Curiosity stirs within me. I can’t help myself. “Interfere?”
“In fate,” he murmurs, lowering his voice. “You’re here for a reason, Risa. The sea doesn’t make mistakes.”
My heart thumps in my chest. “Wait—what do you mean the sea doesn’t make mistakes?”
Suddenly, the ship lifts and drops so heavily that barrels topple and roll down the corridor. Water slaps violently against the hull. As fast as the wave came, it was gone again. The ghost carefully sits up and stills, checking if someone woke up. There’s only snoring in the distance.
“I can’t tell you more. But the Glim will not show up again unless the sea needs it to.”
“And the captain doesn’t know that?”
“He does. He’s just blinded by fear of losing his crew—and he is a very, very stubborn man.”
A smile tugs at my lips, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“I see. Insulting the captain is the way to make you laugh.” He grins mischievously, one of his silver brows lifting in mockery. “I like it, your laugh.”
Blushing, I quickly shake my head. He looks down at me, his gaze catching on the scales on my collarbones.
“I bet your tail would’ve been beautiful,” he says quietly, admiration softening his voice.
My chest tightens, and it becomes increasingly difficult to breathe. Tears sting my eyes, and I avert my gaze. I don't want him to see how much the thought upsets me.
“Sorry,” he whispers. His presence retreats slightly, but I still can’t bring myself to look at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I wipe a single tear from my cheek and prop myself up, then force myself to meet his gaze. He stands a few feet away now, his hands clasped behind his back. Shadows dance around him like black flames as his empty eyes find mine again.
“You should know,” he adds lightly, “your legs are beautiful too, in their own way.”
And with that, he steps back into the darkness, clinging to the wall, his body dissolving into smoke until the last swirl fades into the thin air, and I am alone once again.
“Thank you,” I whisper, even though he is already gone. With a pounding heart, I lie down fully and close my eyes, glad for the chance.
My last thought before drifting into dreamless sleep is the strange warmth of his skin brushing against mine.