19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
T he bow of the fiddle lifts, and the music cuts off. Cheers erupt as the dancers break apart, stumbling outside or back toward their tables. My chest rises and falls quickly as I push damp strands of hair away from my face.
“I need some air,” I say, half laughing as I catch my breath.
Sable's gaze flicks toward the door and back to me again, hesitating. Then he nods, a smile still tugging at his lips.
“Go on,” he says. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
His hand lingers on my waist for a little while longer before he lets it fall away.
“But don't wander far, little fish. You remember what you promised me earlier?”
I dip my head in agreement and slip through the crowd toward the door.
Someone spits the words “siren whore” as I pass by, but I shake it off as nothing more than a heated insult.
Cool night air greets me the moment I step outside, cutting through the haze in my head.
With the door swinging shut behind me, the tavern noises become distant and muffled.
Drawing in a deep breath, I realize I had a little too much rum.
When the lights from the lanterns swaying in the breeze above begin to blur, I lean against the stone wall of the tavern, trying to anchor myself.
Nearby, pirates lean against crooked walls and sit on overturned barrels, tankards dangling loosely from their fingers while they shout over one another or stagger between the buildings in uneven lines.
It is still very much crowded and very much chaotic.
“Look there,” a voice mutters somewhere to my right.
Another answers with a snort. “That’s the captain's little siren,” he snarls.
“Disgusting,” another one says and spits on the stones near my feet.
Within the blink of an eye, the alcohol vanishes from my veins. It was foolish of me to allow myself into such an inebriated state. So foolish to once again forget how dangerous it is to look like me in a place like this.
Glancing back toward the tavern, I hesitate. The doorway is no longer clear. More bodies have gathered, pirates spilling out into the streets. A few of them already look my way, their attention fully on me as the murmurs begin to spread. Going back would mean walking straight into them.
I lower my head and start walking past the other pirates, in an attempt to get away. If Sable follows me as he said, I am sure he will find me. And even if he doesn’t, I can’t spend any other second breathing the same air as them. The last thing I want is to lose control and break my promise.
My feet carry me downhill as fast as they allow me, away from the lights and the noise. Their eyes follow me as I move deeper into the paths of the village, the muttered words trailing wet and slippery behind me like eels.
“Her eyes—“
“Creature—“
“Monster.”
My hands curl loosely at my sides, nails pressing lightly into my palms as I remind myself again and again that losing control here would be worse than any insult they can throw.
I promised Sable not to use my voice. Not even a whisper.
A flicker of guilt passes through me, one I would rather ignore.
He also told me not to wander far, yet here I am, wandering away.
The street begins to slope downward as I move farther from the harbor square.
The paths grow quieter, but still, the pressure inside my chest refuses to ease.
The siren in me doesn’t like the fear that pulses through me.
She is restless, turning beneath my skin, begging me to set her free.
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, forcing my lungs into calm, steady breaths, but my thoughts continue circling, like gulls taking to the air above a ship.
In the distance, there’s the long hush of waves breaking. Somewhere beyond the houses, the tide breathes against the shore.
Come to me, the sea whispers.
Without thinking, I follow its call. Each step towards it loosens something in my chest, yet my pulse still beats faster than it should.
It is only until the sand cools my soles and the water washes over my ankles that I can catch a clear thought.
I let the sound of the gentle waves fill the empty space in my mind, letting it wash over the anger still tangled in my chest until it begins to soften.
I close my eyes and draw in a slow breath, when suddenly, the water ripples a few yards out. The siren inside of me goes very still. The ripples form again. I snap my head up to follow the movement.
Eyes rise from the dark water and fix on me, unblinking. My breath catches in my throat as I catch a glint of a tail beneath the surface, the familiar slow movement sending a sharp ache through my chest.
My heart lurches. I know what is watching me from afar.
The siren is calm, her movements in the water barely noticeable. Her eyes look like mine, white and foggy, split clean down the middle by a dark, narrow slit, watching me without blinking.
I am rooted in the spot as she stares me down, and I stare right back. Someone without my eyesight probably wouldn’t even have noticed the creature lurking beneath the water.
Then, ever so slowly, she lets her body drift towards the shore, edging closer.
Her head tilts slightly to the side as she examines me carefully.
There are gills at the side of her throat, scales that scatter along her collarbones up to her temples.
They’re in the same shades of grey as her magnificent, long tail, making her almost invisible in the surrounding water.
“You’re far from the currents,” she whispers in a soft, soothing voice. “Why do you walk among them?”
I forget how to breathe for a beat too long as recognition glints in her eyes. She knows what I am. She can see it in me.
“We follow the Glim,” I whisper as I carefully glance to both sides, ensuring no one is watching us. “It’s the sea’s will.”
“Mh.” She drifts through the water again, this time even closer, until her pale shoulders rise and her hair is slicked back against her head. “And you trust them?”
There’s the strain of judgment in her soft voice, and the pity hits my face sharply.
“I don’t have a choice,” I explain, “I have nowhere else to go.”
Her eyes glance down towards my legs before looking at me again, now with a deep line between her brows.
“Nowhere,” she says quietly, “is still better than with those men.”
She turns her head toward the open water, chin tilting just enough to draw my attention past the shoreline. The sea stretches out, dark and endless.
“They will rip your heart out when they’re done with you and say it was a merciful end,” she adds in her lilting voice, no hint of fear clinging to her words.
The world narrows down to what is in front of me.
I know what she’s saying is true. I remember the stories told in our swarm about sirens taken by men who hoist black colors.
That they are cruel, and the sacrifice of a cruel soul gives us our magic in return.
But my father was not cruel. He was strict, but kind.
The Crew of the Noctis could’ve treated me way worse if they wanted to. But they didn‘t. Sable didn’t.
“I don’t think they’re all the same.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper as I think about Lark.
He’s still so small. He has never killed, I am certain.
An image of Sable flashes through my mind, but I do my best to push it away.
I have broken his trust by coming here. He probably won’t trust me again.
The siren tilts her head again, the gills at the side of her throat subtly pulsing as they try to pull in water that is not there.
“You are foolish if you mistake their laughter for kindness,” She drawls, her tail lazily flapping against the surface.
“They do not love sirens,” she continues. “They love what sirens can give them.”
My heart aches as I take her in, how she blends in effortlessly with the sea. At the sight of her tail, I dig my toes deeper into the sand until they are completely buried in it. Her eyes flick past me, fixing on something behind my shoulder.
“Pirate,” she whispers.
I turn to find Sable coming down the path from the village with a lantern in his hand, his stride long and purposeful. He doesn't slow when he sees me, but he slows when he sees her.
His entire body locks.
The air between us tightens as his hands drift toward his leather strap on instinct, fingers curling around his knife. His jaw clenches as they rank over the siren's face and her tail half-hidden by the dark water.
“Get away from her,” he snarls.
The siren's lips curve, slow and knowing. She does not retreat. She does not use her voice either. Her eyes lock on me again.
“If the sea shows mercy and gives you your tail, I hope you are as far away from humans as possible, sister.”
Sable’s gaze flicks from the siren to me. Whatever thought crosses his mind, he cuts it off with a step forward, placing himself between us. The tide kisses his boots, then retreats.
“Leave,” he says quietly, the warning clear in his voice. His hand is curled around the handle of his dagger now, ready to draw it.
The siren doesn't flinch. With a tilted head, she studies him instead. I don't miss the way Sable stills, like he’s aware of exactly how thin the line is, how close the siren is to just using her song on him and pulling him into the depths.
“Very well,” she says with a smile on her face, flashing her canines. Then she turns and sinks back into the sea. To me, it is clear that she spared his life, not the other way around. Sable doesn't move as the water settles again, the last ripple smoothing itself out.
Neither do I.
I keep my eyes on the dark water, on the place where she disappeared, because looking at him feels like it would make something in me snap.
They will rip your heart out.
Her words echo through me, relentless. I want to dismiss them. It would be easier to blame the siren for stirring my fear, for turning ordinary men into monsters in my mind.
But tonight I have seen the way they look at me.
The memory of the spit striking the stones near my feet returns so vividly that my jaw tightens, and it feels as though my canines lengthen, the siren inside me baring her teeth in front of the man who spared my life.
The man who spun me around the tavern mere moments ago.
Anger, embarrassment and sadness hit me all at once.
Anger, because of how easily they turned against me.
Embarrassment, because of how defenseless I was without my song.
And sadness, because of how Sable is looking at me right now.
I haven’t even noticed until now that I’ve started crying. Tears well in my vision as I avert my gaze, looking anywhere but at him. My hand covers my mouth, hiding my canines, but I know he has seen them.
Next to me, footsteps shift in the sand. I expect him to pull out his blade. To hold it against my throat, as he did when he found out what I was.
But it doesn’t come.
The lantern light grows brighter as he approaches, the warm glow cutting through the cold sheen the moon has painted across the water. I keep my eyes fixed on the sea, trying to console myself.
“Risa.”
The sound of my name on his lips sends goosebumps down my spine. Sable places the lantern in the sand between us, then takes another step towards me.
“Look at me.”
Something in the steadiness of his voice anchors me, and I let the sound press against the chaos inside my chest. Suppressing it.
I can’t face him though. Not yet. I am not ready to see the fear, the disgust in his eyes.
But he wraps his fingers around my wrist, with a gentleness that I was not expecting.
My lungs draw in a shaky breath before I can bring myself to turn to face him, bracing myself for the look on his face.
“The siren is wrong,” he whispers and presses his thumb against the inside of my wrist.
His brows are drawn together, his jaw set tight, but there’s no fear in his eyes.
In the lanternlight, they remind me of the sea just before a storm breaks, carrying currents beneath the surface that reveal themselves only when the lightning strikes them the right way.
Right now, those eyes scan my face with quiet understanding.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he continues after a moment, his voice low enough that the waves almost cover it. “I know what it’s like to stand face to face with a version of yourself you don’t recognize. And to feel it winning an unspoken battle.”
His eyes hold mine as he gently takes my hand covering my lips.
I do not resist as he lifts it away from my face.
My breath catches. If he sees my canines, he doesn’t acknowledge them.
Sable simply looks at me as he lets his thumb caress my knuckles, before tightening his fingers around mine in a brief squeeze.
“Believe me when I tell you this,” he says, his voice steady. “I know the difference between a monster and someone who is simply trying not to become one.”