Chapter 22 A Traitor In Our Midst #3
Bile rises to my throat and Rowan makes a soft, pained noise.
If it weren’t for the circumstances, I know she’d run to the kid and wrap him in her arms. I squeeze her fingers tight, wondering again at the crew and their dynamic.
The tensile spots that span amongst the solid, hard surface.
What sort of pirates rescue a little boy from his treacherous fate and still retain the title of the most fearsome to sail the seas?
The air in my lungs seems to be trapped as I watch on, Finch insistently signing to the older boy who only thrashes, ignoring the movements and younger boy altogether. Finally, Finch gives up, turning to the captain and shaking his head.
Rhyland nods him away, again moving closer to the thrashing boy and twins that restrain him.
“It seems he’s loyal to someone, after all.”
If I was a fool, I might think it was melancholy lacing my husband’s words, but it’s quickly becoming clear that his moods are as mercurial as the sea.
Ever turning. Ever changing. Already, I’ve seen so many different facets of him.
Angry, cloying, quiet, dangerous, even tender.
I will add regretful to my list and continue to wonder if any of it is real.
“Fetch the chains. Bind his legs and prepare the plank.”
A gasp wrenches itself from Rowan’s throat, but the members of the crew don’t hesitate for a moment.
A tall man with close cropped reddish-blonde hair and gentle stubble moves to produce a long slat of sturdy looking wood.
Others bring forth chains, both to bind and weigh down the boy’s legs, and to secure the plank to the deck so that he can be ceremoniously forced off of it.
My stomach roils. Despite the fact he plotted to kill me in one of the most painful ways known to man, I’m not sure I want to watch his end. And I know for a fact Rowan shouldn’t. When I start to move, hoping to shepherd Rowan away, Reave catches my arm again, jerking me to a stop.
I cast a glare back at him, feel my lip curl over my teeth. “Let me go.”
“Talon will want you to watch this. It’s a lesson—for everyone.”
It's everything in me to keep from ripping away and causing a scene.
“You think I'm afraid of him because he stabs innocent men in front of their sons, or keeps godlings on his crew? If Talon wants me here, he can tell me himself. I am his wife after all.” For the first time the word feels like a power rather than a sentencing.
Reave lets out a barking laugh, his eyes dancing with playful prisms of light. “Innocent? What a peculiar stance to take, halfling. There was nothing innocent about that man. He owned that establishment. Profited off the bodies of nymph slaves he bought and sold against their will.”
An awful spasm comes over me. A horror.
Reave leans in, quiet. So close I can feel the cold shadows bleeding off of him. “You have to pick your evil, Avalon. Talon does what he has to just like the rest of us. But unlike many cruel men, he doesn't revel in it.”
My gaze rakes over the men to settle back on Rhyland—Talon—Pirate—God. Many facets. Many titles. But only one twisted heart. What else hides beneath it all? What drove him to this?
I reach for the legend of his exile. Surely the details were sung about in one bard or another's musing.
Or maybe told to me by a nymph on Aurorae, whispered and woven in with the stories shared around our evening fires.
But nothing surfaces and the frustration inside of me stokes brightly.
Who is Rhyland? What lengths will he go?
Perhaps it is a lesson. Or a warning for me to witness. Our vow may have bound us from hurting one another but how many men does he hold on his ship that would do that bidding for him? Forty? Sixty? It’s impossible to count them as they scramble by.
Soon, the movement settles. Everything is secure.
The twins hoist the boy’s shaking frame onto the plank of wood and Rhyland steps up close, an arms length away.
To my shock, he moves up after him, balancing precariously over the still water below.
From his side, he draws his cutlass, its sharp edge glints in the rising sun.
Its deadly tip presses toward the boy, forcing him closer to the edge.
Soon he’ll have nowhere to go and a choice will have to be made—be run through or take his chances in the treacherous deep.
A deadly silence falls over the crew. Even the wind stops blowing, as if keen to listen to what will happen next.
Like the ship's hull below, the dark leather of Rhyland’s coat seems to absorb rays of the sun. “For any man who believes he may touch what is mine or threaten the harmony on this ship, see here your future.”
Sharp silence. Every man and woman stills.
His.
My resolve to hate him strengthens.
Before I can even draw my next breath, Rhyland lunges with his blade, swiping the air between them. The boy flinches, losing his footing before falling back and sinking below the glassy surface.
I hate him. I hate him and I'll always hate him.
The thought pours from me, souring the air.
I don't know if it's a promise or a reminder to myself as Rowan and I slip off to the galley where food’s being served. We fill our plates and find a table to sit at. I insist on a spot as far away from the rest of the crew as possible, but it’s hard.
The ship is large but the quarters are still cramped.
I stare down at the bowl of stew. It’s questionable and I’m not particularly starving after such a filling breakfast on the isle, but I still shovel a spoonful in my mouth.
Rowan watches me, her brown eyes bright as the first star at twilight.
I know she’s waiting for an explanation but I’m not even sure where to start.
“Well?” she breaks the silence, the careful chewing. “You’re married to a pirate now?”
Heat floods my cheeks and the stew suddenly tastes like ash on my tongue. “I suppose.”
“You love him?”
I nearly choke, and have to cough around the sensation.
Crewmen stare. I wait until the coughing passes and they’ve looked away before leaning in to whisper.
“Gods, no, Rowan! I hate him. He’s awful.
You saw what he did up there. And what he did back in Ethirya.
But he didn’t give me much choice at all. He threatened your life.”
“Why?” she presses, looking urgently back and forth, gripping my wrist. “I don’t understand. Did he—” She swallows. “Did he hurt you?”
I know what she’s implying and it makes my stomach roil.
Partly out of guilt. Guilt for feeling those strange sensations, the ones I’m sure now were brought on by the herbs and the isle itself.
I’d kissed him, and wanted to do more than that, caught in an orbit of which he was the sun and I was some stupid moon circling and circling, uncontrollably.
“No. Nothing like that. But the ceremony itself did something. It broke the binding spell Harial placed between us the night Harlow’s ship went down and I made the deal with him—”
My lips press together. I can’t say much more here. Even though no one is paying us much attention. But how can I be certain of that? And what if the mute boy wasn’t acting alone? What if someone else on the ship wants to hurt me, and Rowan got in the way, and was hurt for it?
“Listen.” The word pulls sharply from me. “It may be wise to keep a fair distance from me. Is there anyone on the crew you…trust?”
Now it’s her turning bright red. Red as a cherry. I lift an eyebrow and tilt my head. “What?”
“The Goddess would not smile on me—”
“Oh stop it, what?” I press.
She fiddles with a button on the sleeve of her long blouse. “Sabre has been keeping me company and Avalon, I—she’s actually wonderful. More than wonderful. She makes me feel strong, and brave. She’s introduced me to the crew but doesn’t let anyone give me any trouble. I–I really like her.”
Something stirs in me. Jealousy? No, not quite.
Envy? Concern? I’m half tempted to say something a bit snarky about how she hardly knows the woman but that feels counter productive to the safety net I’m trying to cast. Sabre is Rhyland’s first mate.
He must trust her an awful lot and he knows that I’ll only continue helping him if Rowan is alright.
Having her closer to Sabre than myself seems…
like maybe the best choice, though I’m loathe to admit it.
If there was one silver lining to being kidnapped by damn pirates, I’d hoped it would be getting my best friend back from the distance that cleaved us apart after I ran from Blossom House.
I think of the Pirate knowing my nickname, Vale, long before we ever reached Elaris—something only Rowan would have revealed, maybe when I was recovering after the effects of the ring Ire.
“That’s great.” I force a smile. “Just promise you’ll be careful, okay?”
She nods. “I promise.”
Evening comes quickly but I can’t sleep.
“What brings you to the infirmary, dear? Are you quite well?” Mattias’ croaky voice meets me through the gloom. His quarters have become the most comfortable place on the ship for me. Or perhaps it’s the elderly man's presence, itself. A soothing balm for a worried mind.
I startle to realize he isn’t alone. Cyprian is mounted on the surgery table, legs swinging over the edge as he holds out a palm for Mattias’ inspection.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” I murmur, ready to retreat back to Rowan’s new quarters where she fell asleep nearly an hour ago, lulled by nightfall and the Nightingale’s gentle rocking as she cuts through the sea to our destination.
I, on the other hand, had been unable to keep my eyes closed for more than a moment or two without him flashing through my head. Getting up to walk the creaking corridors was the best thing for it, and my feet had led me here.
“Nonsense. You’re not intruding. You can keep our navigator company while I head to the lower stores for some yarrow to treat his wound.”