21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
W hen I wake on the Noctis the next morning, the island and its people are still asleep.
It feels strange to lie in this hammock, without the water rushing beneath the hull the way it usually does.
I stare at the wooden ceiling above me for a moment longer, watching moisture gather along one of the beams before slowly dripping down.
Sable simply vanished last night. He made no effort to find me again, no attempt to explain why he just left me sitting there like a fool.
I stayed by the water for a long while, staring into the endless night, a small part of me hoping the siren might return so I could ask her more questions. But she didn’t. And he didn’t.
When the water droplet hits my cheek, I stretch, trying to coax some of the tension out of my muscles.
The ship is quiet, unusually so, as though the Noctis itself is still asleep.
The damp wood beneath my feet feels almost familiar by now, its uneven grain pressing into my soles.
My gaze drifts to the small pile of clothing tucked near the wall.
Dresses Sable gave me. The thought of him makes my chest ache.
I push my worry for him away before my thoughts begin to spiral again, forcing my hands to stay steady as I dress.
No one stops me when I walk down the gangplank minutes later.
I know I promised Sable to stay close, but the street leading to the village is still empty, and I have the urge to take a walk all by myself.
Low-hanging fog blankets the docks, thick enough that the sun is little more than a pale blur behind it.
I half expect someone to call after me. A hand to close around my wrist. A command barked from the deck.
The further I get from the Noctis, the lighter my chest feels, even though I know it’s only temporary.
The ship looms behind me all the same, dark and expectant, swaying gently in the calm morning sea.
She doesn't frighten me, what frightens me is the unknown path ahead of us. I wish I knew what the sea has planned for me and for the crew and for me. For Sable. An idea of where we’re headed would be much better for my sanity than following a light across the six seas without having any idea of what it’s leading to.
The smell of grilled fish pulls me forward before I consciously decide to follow it.
It’s the same path I walked with Sable yesterday, though it feels different now, stripped of whatever illusion of welcome the night had offered.
I keep my head down as I walk and remember every turn I take through the narrow streets.
Slowly, the settlement stirs to life around me.
Stalls begin to line the main stretch, packed tightly together.
Necklaces made out of pearls and shells glint softly in the fog-muted light as they are arranged, and pieces of dyed fabric hang from beams, their colors so oddly beautiful on the grey island.
My breath stutters when I see the glass jar.
It sits near the edge of a stall, between other trinkets and bone charms. The scales inside catch the light even through the fog.
Pale.
Iridescent.
I step closer without thinking, my pulse roaring in my ears.
These aren’t fish scales. I know that instinctively, with a certainty that settles in my gut.
When I look up, a man is already watching me, his gaze sharp and assessing.
He looks familiar, but I can’t bring myself to remember where I know him from.
I open my mouth. Close it again.
A movement draws my attention back to his hands.
He uses a mortar and pestle, grinding the scales into fine powder with practiced ease.
When he notices me watching, a cruel grin spreads across his face, revealing yellowed teeth.
I force myself to breathe, to remember that they fear me more than I fear them.
They don’t know how little control I have over my voice. Not even the crew knows.
“You’re the siren without the tail,” he drawls eventually, keeping his gaze on me. “He will be pleased to hear I found you.”
I bring my hand to my collarbones instinctively, in an attempt to hide them from him.
He must’ve seen them already, seeing as he recognizes who I am.
But the man he is talking about, he is not from Noctis, that I am sure of.
My throat tightens as I try to make sense of what he is saying.
The only other crew that knows me…is Grimsbane’s.
“Grimsbane?” I stutter, cold rushing down my spine. “He is here?”
He just smiles at me, before his gaze drifts behind me, eyes widening. I am about to turn when a hand clamps around my arm and spins me around.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, woman,” Grim says, breathing hard. “The Glim has shown itself again. Right now. We have to leave. The captain’s gathering the crew. And you—”
I slowly exhale, relieved that it is Grim and not Grimsbane.
“I’m being very politely urged to come with you?”
“Exactly.” Grim presses his lips together, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.
I sigh deeply. I thought I had more time on the little island, to talk to Cailia, or maybe have another relaxed evening with the crew. But it seems like the sea has other plans, and if Grimsbane knows where I am, I can’t risk staying.
“Fine.”
I turn back to the man one last time, but he’s already busy selling siren scales to a customer, his attention elsewhere.
Grim keeps glancing back at me as we make our way through the crowd that keeps streaming in the opposite direction.
Voices swell around us, louder and more frantic than before, the quiet of the morning already erased.
Shoulders brush mine, some of them harder than necessary, and I focus on keeping pace, on not letting myself be swallowed by the movement.
When the Noctis comes into view below us, she appears to be waiting on me, her presence eager. I drop my shoulders in relief and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The sight of her steadies something in me, even as the knot in my chest tightens.
Nightglass and Lark stand a little apart, saying their goodbyes to their weeping wife and mother. I swallow as Nightglass wraps her into his arms and presses a kiss into her red hair, slow and careful.
My throat tightens.
I wonder how it must feel to be loved like that.
To always have someone waiting for you, wanting you.
It’s not that I don’t believe in love. It’s just so out of reach for me that I rarely waste time thinking of it.
All the men I have met either feared me for what I am, or only wanted me because of it.
So I avoided them altogether. I want someone who sees me, all of me, and decides to love me despite it.
I’m not afraid of you.
Sable’s words echo through my mind, pulling me back to the moment we shared last night.
He doesn’t fit into either category. He does not fear me, but he also doesn’t want me simply because I am a siren.
Which leaves me wondering if he could ever want me despite it.
If he could ever feel something like that for me.
“...Sable,” Grim says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I ask him, still half caught in them.
“I said we have to leave as soon as possible, if we don’t want to further aggravate Sable.” Grim repeats, jerking his head toward the docks. “They‘re loading the remaining loot already.”
Blinking, I meet his gaze, then square my shoulders. I haven‘t tried shifting in the bone-infested waters yet, and I won’t leave before I try to do so. I told Sable as much.
I draw a slow breath. “I need to go for a swim before we leave.”
He knits his brows together and glances towards the Noctis, hesitation flickering across his face.
“We can’t risk losing the Glim,” he says, looking at me again. “It wants us to leave the island now.”
Cailia said the Glim found me, and not them. So, it will wait for me. Even though the thought of Grimsbane being here unsettles me, I can’t lose my only chance at swimming in this sea and potentially triggering my shift. I would never forgive myself.
“Please wait on me," I say. “It will only take a few minutes.”
Grim opens his mouth, then closes it again.
I don’t wait for permission. Instead, I turn on my heel and head down the docks toward the narrow stretch of beach hidden behind jagged, dark rocks. The slick stone makes my footing clumsy, and I curse under my breath as my feet slide.
As I already said, sirens do not climb mountains.
I inhale deeply as the wind picks up, bringing with it the taste of salt.
The descent is much easier than the way up.
The beach opens up before me, the same one where I met the siren last night.
Where I talked with Sable last night. It looks different in the daylight.
The sand is pale and coarse beneath my feet, dotted with shells and fragments of coral worn smooth by the tide.
As the water pulls back, more dark rock is revealed near the shore.
Under the faint sunlight, the sea shifts between blue and green, as though it can’t decide on one set color.
I loosen the strings of my bodice and step out of my gown, folding it carefully on a flat rock. My undergarment follows. As is usual with sirens, I care little about modesty. If we cover our breasts, our bodies, we do so because we like how it looks.
The moment my feet touch the water, relief floods through me so fast it steals my breath.
The siren inside of me stirs, then settles, easing in a way she hasn’t for weeks.
After yesterday, she has become restless.
She slips through more than I would like to admit.
I like to tell myself that I am in control, but by now I know that this is not true.
Leaving the tavern last night, I was a heartbeat away from sinking my canines into the flesh of the nearest man who dared to give me a nasty glare.