Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Adead, fleshy jellyfish, smaller than her hand, plopped onto the wet planks in a place Selene had just scrubbed. Several men laughed.
“You missed a spot,” one said to more laughter.
“How original,” she muttered.
Everyone returned to work, and Alf—her current guard—spied Whisker, the ship’s cat, and followed its morning prowl to a basket of fish.
Perfect.
Selene usually tossed the gelatinous creature overboard, but instead, she casually dropped the jellyfish into her bucket of seawater, followed by her long-handled brush, and went right back to swabbing the decks.
“They allow us to live,” Petrina had said the night before, “and give us jobs that are meant to demean us. As if we haven’t been through much worse. Idiots.”
Selene had silently agreed. None of them had ever answered to the likes of Alexandra Vidalatos.
Yes, Thorne worked them to exhaustion, and yes, his men were rude and obnoxious. But Selene did as she’d done her entire life: she watched. She listened. She learned.
And when she was alone, she remembered.
Two weeks.
Two weeks since she’d walked away from her home, from the man who knew her better than anyone. For all she knew, Augustus still believed she didn’t care. That she’d have given up on him and their future, all to save Perean. And she had, just not in the way either of them had planned.
And still, she had to keep moving forward. If she hesitated, if she looked back, she'd fall apart. And she couldn’t afford that.
But gods, she missed him.
Not just his voice or the way he touched her like she was something sacred, but the way he looked at her when she was angry. Like he’d still choose her. Like she could bring the world crashing down and he’d still stand there in the rubble, waiting for her to come home.
She hated him for what he’d said.
She hated herself more.
They’d fought, yes. But the silence that followed was worse. Because she didn’t know if it meant goodbye.
The sun rose higher, hot against her neck as she scrubbed. Her fingers throbbed from salt and wood. Her bucket sloshed with every stroke, and the jellyfish floated within like a soft curse.
She had something now. A tool. A plan. A path.
Thorne switched out her guards every few hours, but they were always the same rotation: Alf, Simen, Jesper. And Petrina, whose bruises were fading but not forgotten, spent her days below pumping out bilge water or scraping barnacles with a blade and a prayer.
At night, they were chained to the lower hold. Cold. Damp. Alone.
But before exhaustion took them, they whispered. Plans. Patterns. Weaknesses. Pieces of hope with sharp little edges.
Tonight, Selene had something good to share.
“We’ll be in the Paraneau Sea by tomorrow,” she whispered as she wiped at her blistered fingers. She’d swabbed the deck near the navigation table earlier that day, noted their current location, their speed, the direction of the wind.
“Finally,” Petrina murmured.
A moment later, her deep breathing turned rhythmic. Asleep.
Petrina never asked why this stretch of sea mattered so much to Selene. And Selene never offered the truth.
The Trayterre Isles were close—close enough to taste.
She didn’t know what she’d find there. But if Blaze was right…
If the blue-and-brown-eyed souls were there—if her people had truly been reborn on one of those islands—then every moment of silence, every wound, every choice had brought her exactly where she was meant to be.
She would make it off this ship.
And when she did, the gods willing, she would finally learn why they left her and Augustus behind.
“Icould be a rigger,” Petrina said to Selene, who’d just lied to anyone listening about how she’d never had a position aboard Augustus’s ship. It would be best if no one knew she had trained under the Sailing Master.
“I’d make an excellent rigger,” Petrina continued. “Better than these idiots.”
The ex-Eye was cross-legged atop a crate, mending a torn sail while Selene swabbed nearby. The winds were higher than usual, and Selene questioned the timing of their plan. But the storm clouds were still half a day out, at least.
“Petrina, it’s one of the most dangerous jobs on the ship.”
“So?”
Selene leaned on her handled brush and produced her most condescending smirk. The act immediately made her miss Augustus. “Maybe you’ve noticed, but you’ve never even lived on a ship before now.”
“True, but I’m an excellent climber.”
Petrina’s morning guard, a red-haired man named Finn, snorted a laugh. He was nearly as difficult to engage as Alf, but he was also a rigger.
Several feet away at the wheel, Thorne watched them chatter but appeared more engrossed in what his Sailing Master had to say. Likely worried about the storm they were heading into, just as she would be in their place.
She hoped it passed fast. Otherwise, it could ruin their plans.
After a few minutes, Petrina put aside her finished work and squinted at Finn. Her gaze raked him in a way that forced him to pay attention.
“Bored?” she asked him.
The entire ship was bored, and the women counted on it for this to work.
Finn, who was perched on a crate sharpening one of his many knives, paused and waited for her to continue, brow raised.
“Let’s have a little fun before we head to the bilge,” she said. “Unless you’re eager to watch me pump piss-scented water for the next couple of hours.”
He wouldn’t be; he constantly tried negotiating ways out of that particular shift. “Wha’d’ya have in mind?” Finn had the sort of accent that blended a lot of words into one. He was hard to understand sometimes.
Petrina hopped off her crate and cast him a wicked grin. “A race to the crow’s nest.”
“You’ll’na beat me,” he said, standing. The tilt of his mouth said he was interested, however.
“Selene could beat you,” she said, taunting. “That’s how confident I am.”
Finn looked Selene up and down, folding his thick arms. “She could’na beat Alf.”
One of Oskar’s earliest pieces of advice: use their underestimation. Make it her weapon.
Still, the insult stung.
“Have you seen Alf?” Selene asked, then winced in Alf’s direction. “No offense.”
Alf’s mouth turned down at the corners, taking in both women and his shipmate. “I’m a damn good climber, and I’m stronger than I look.”
“The only thing I’ve seen you do well,” Selene said, “is chase that cat. I’ve yet to see you climb like one.”
“A couple of weeks at sea with me doesn’t make you an expert at what I’m good at,” Alf said.
“What’s going on here?” Thorne asked, appearing through the crowd.
The topic had drawn a lot of attention. Selene didn’t like the idea of involving the captain, but it was inevitable where she and Petrina were concerned.
Petrina turned bravely toward the captain. “I’m challenging Finn to a race up the rigging.”
“No,” he said simply, his word law, then started to turn away.
The unified groans and grumbles of displeasure drew him up short, and he swiveled to look at his men.
Thorne wasn’t unlike Augustus at times, though Thorne’s arrogance was quicker to snap and draw blood. Augustus was like a predator who played with his food, and it could go either way for his prey. Whereas Thorne held his teeth to your jugular with every intention of biting down.
Selene, heart throbbing, shot Petrina a glance.
For their plan to work, they needed these men to relax around them.
Give them a little less attention. And this—silly as it was—might earn a little respect.
Some favor. What better way to do that than to help a bored, disgruntled crew blow off steam?
Even Thorne would benefit from a little fun.
Thorne met Selene’s eyes, and his mouth tilted into that damnable smirk. “Fine.” He turned his attention to Petrina. “But if you lose, you’ll dangle outside the ship tonight, scraping off barnacles until dawn.”
He was smart; Selene had to give him that. If Petrina backed down, it was her the pirates would blame. The eagerness for this race was like a static charge in the air.
“And if I win”—Petrina lifted her bound wrists, raw from the manacles—“you free me from these cuffs.”
“No.”
“Lighter duties then. Make someone else pump your bilge from now on.”
He straightened, mouth puckered in thought. “Fine.” Then, “Finn, if you lose, you’ll pump the bilge for a week.”
“I’ll’na lose, Captain.” Finn, grinning, rubbed his palms together. “You’ll be food for the sharks t’night, girl.”
Petrina held her cuffs out to Thorne for removal. “I can’t race without full use of my arms.”
Thorne obliged without argument. “Let’s make it even more interesting,” he said when finished. “Selene climbs with you against Alf.”
Selene froze. “What? No. I’m—”
“You insulted the man,” Thorne said. “Everyone heard you. The least you could do is offer him a chance to prove himself.”
“My apologies to Alf then, but I’m—”
“And,” Thorne went on, ignoring her, “To win, you must both reach the top before the men.”
Petrina hooked her now-free hands to her hips. “Deal. But Alf swabs the decks in Selene’s place after she wins. It’s only fair. And yes, before you say it, she can scrape barnacles with me if we lose.”
Having seen bloodeye sharks in action, Selene considered kicking Petrina in the shin.
Thorne gave Petrina a full, brilliant smile that brightened his eyes. “I would never risk Selene’s life like that. You’ll hang alone. By the wrists.”
Petrina looked at Selene and shrugged. Nothing bothered this woman.
They’d talked about the possibility of Selene racing instead—they couldn’t predict how the conversation would go. They’d even discussed what sorts of torture they’d have to endure if this went awry and deemed it worth the risk.
However, they’d never considered Thorne would be so keen to oblige, and Selene didn’t like it.
Selene, free of the manacles, rubbed her raw wrists. “I guess we’re doing this, then.”
Petrina opened her arms and spun for the crew. “I hope you’re all entertained.”