Chapter 12
Reva
My meeting with Captain Finch is preceded by a lot of hushed whispers and at least twenty minutes of hanging around as the crew try to get ahold of him.
Wherever he is, he’s not inside his office.
Eventually, Torin leads the way off the ship’s deck and down a narrow set of stairs until we’re in a passageway so narrow that Torin’s arms brush the walls on either side as he strides along.
By this point, the cold seems to have seeped right through my skin into my core, and I’m losing the fight against uncontrollable shivers. Aster keeps shooting me concerned looks and is keeping close enough that I can feel his body heat at my back but it’s not helping much.
We pause outside a thick wooden door that’s decorated with an embroidered skull and crossbones. Torin knocks and pops his head inside, scanning the room before he steps in and gestures for the two of us to follow.
The inside of the captain’s office is nicer than I expected.
I’m not entirely sure what I thought I’d see here.
Maybe the skeleton of the last person who wronged him chained to the wall.
Instead, there’s what looks to be a lot more embroidered images plastered all over the walls.
There’s also a huge wooden desk that has papers scattered all over it, and sitting behind it, whittling something out of wood, is the captain.
Pieces of wood go flying as he jumps to his feet, slamming the knife into the desk surface with a beaming smile in place.
“Hello, love, fancy you paying us a visit.” He smirks, the expression dissolving as his eyes rake over me and take in my sodden, half-drowned state.
“What happened?” He looks at Torin with a frown.
Torin gives a quick, vague explanation of why I’m here dripping all over the floor while the captain’s frown deepens. While he’s distracted, I take the opportunity to properly look at him.
In person, he looks every inch a pirate captain.
Even though I’ve never met one before, I somehow know that down to my bones.
My eyes are instantly drawn to the hat he’s wearing.
It’s unavoidable, really. The thing looks like a mixture of a traditional tricorn hat and one of those hats that keep your ears warm in winter, with the long flappy ears.
Maybe he gets cold ears when he’s out on the deck. It’s certainly an interesting look, and I can’t seem to stop myself from staring at it, especially when it seems to shift slightly while I’m looking at it.
He’s taller than I expected, bulkier than Kit, but they have the same strong nose and jaw.
Finch looks less put together than Kit, wilder somehow.
I can’t see much of the captain’s hair since it’s covered by his hat, but judging by the scruff of beard he has, it looks like he has more grey sprinkled in than Kit.
My eyes dart down, resting on the linen shirt he’s wearing, which is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, showing off a handful of leather necklaces with different symbols hanging from pendants.
Torin clears his throat, and I jolt, realising that I’ve been caught staring for too long. I quickly drag my eyes away, and my gaze lands on the captain’s face and his amused expression. One corner of his mouth ticks up as I take in his stormy grey eyes.
Those are different from Kit’s too. The same shape, with crow’s feet and smile lines etched into their skin, but the colour isn’t the same.
My chest gives a sharp pang, and I suck in a breath, trying to rub away the ache left behind.
“So, you’re Kit’s mate,” Finch says softly. “That makes you family.” His eyes rest just behind me, where Aster is still standing close enough for me to feel him.
“And who’s this?”
I twist around and meet Aster’s dark gaze for a moment, and he gives me a fleeting half-smile that has my bunched shoulders relaxing just slightly.
Licking my lips, I clear my aching throat before I reply, “This is Aster. He’s... also my mate. He can’t speak, but the two of us have found a way to communicate.”
The captain’s eyebrows shoot up as he takes in my words with avid interest, retaking his seat behind the desk. “Is that right?”
He rubs his chin before his lips quirk up in another smirk. This one looks decidedly dangerous, although I’m not entirely sure why. Then his focus goes over the top of my head toward the blonde man. “Did you hear that, Torin?”
The blonde man just grunts, and I wonder what that could mean. Then Finch leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he eyes me with that dangerous smirk still in place.
For a second, I wonder if Torin will also lay his claim to being my mate. He’s certainly got the mark on his arm to prove it, but he keeps his shirtsleeves pulled down over his brawny forearms, avoiding looking at me directly. He spins on his heel, striding to the other side of the room.
A heavy weight is laid over my shoulders and I startle, only to realise Torin is putting a massive knitted blanket around my shoulders.
I slowly relax again, pulling it closer until the worst of the shivers fade.
I still need some fresh clothes and a long, hot bath, but at least it doesn’t feel like my extremities are about to drop off.
“So, a flying sofa, eh? Trust Kit to be kidnapped in style.” Captain Finch seems remarkably calm considering his brother has disappeared and we have no idea where he is.
I suppose a pirate captain can’t go losing their shit. Even so, he seems so calm while I can still feel that raw terror scrabbling inside me, threatening to close my throat.
“How are we going to find him?” My voice comes out a rasp that I try to hide behind a cough, but everyone in the room heard it.
I avoid their eyes, glancing around the room again until the tightness growing in my chest feels like it might suffocate me.
That’s when I spot the scrying glass in the corner, the one Captain Finch used to speak to us yesterday.
“You called Kit,” I say. “It alerted him while we were away from the house. Can we try to call him again?”
“Not sure what good that’ll do,” Torin replies. “He can’t answer it. It just tells him that someone’s trying to contact him.”
Dammit. My stomach sinks. I knew that. Of course, I knew that. That was the reason we had to get out of the coven house so quickly. I rub at my face, wincing at the layer of salt leftover from my dip in the ocean.
“How are we going to find him?”
“Still noodling that one myself, love,” Captain Finch says. “Your bond doesn’t help track him down, does it?”
He’s now the third person to ask that. I give a grunt rather than answering. Then, the captain’s hat gives a dangerous wobble, almost toppling from his head, and I stare at him, momentarily distracted.
Torin clears his throat. “Think your mate here has something to say.”
Aster
I USED TO DREAM OF sunshine glinting off the sea. It was one of the last things I remember seeing before I got locked away in a basement, accompanied by other idiots too na?ve and foolish to realise we were stepping out of our old lives, directly into a trap.
There used to be a few of us basement dwellers.
We were only allowed out at night and even that was rare.
The sorcerers would sometimes bring a select few of us out for a couple of hours at a time.
But we were always accompanied, never free to roam or do anything other than serve them.
Most of my days over the past few years have been spent in this endless darkness I couldn’t escape.
To begin with, there were three sorcerers holding us there, each with their own style for drawing out our magic so they could drain us dry. One loved to talk, and the other could barely look at us and would knock us unconscious every time.
But the one all of us hated worst of all was the sorceress. She’d start off gentle, but she’d take and take until nothing was left.
Something must have happened a few months back. The number of people in the basement shrank, but so did the number of sorcerers.
Three became two and then they divided again, until only one remained.
The sorceress.
I kept that memory of the sea as something I’d draw out when things seemed hopeless. But like most memories, it got warped and twisted until I didn’t have the faintest idea if it was anything like the true image anymore.
And then a glint of sunshine appeared. A while back, I worked out a way to push down my magic until it was near impossible to drain.
The sorceress then decided I was worthless and not worth feeding any longer.
And when she moved on, she didn’t bother to take me with her.
It was like she’d forgotten my existence entirely.
Time must have melded together while I felt like I was stuck in a liminal state, neither alive nor dead. Free but still trapped.
Until I met the real-life embodiment of that glint of sunshine.
“I might be able to help.” I trace the words onto her skin, feeling a zing deep in my bones. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to speak to anyone, and it seems utterly right that it should be her.
I haven’t felt safe in years, so long that I barely remember what it was like. But Reva has given me my first taste of it. She didn’t hesitate to help me. She stripped off those manacles, invited me inside and told me I’d be safe.
And the strangest thing is, I believed her.
Kit is hers, just as I am. And he was kind to me, even though he didn’t have to be, so I’ll do what I can to help her find him.
Even if it means she hates me when she realises the things I’ve not told her.
Tracing words onto her skin feels like something different that exists beyond regular communication. It feels like a ritual of worship to my goddess.
That must be why the magic binding my tongue allows it.
“You can?” Her eyes light up, and my insides do a jig. “How is that possible?”
I hesitate over the next words, aware there’s every chance I’ll make her afraid of me.
“I’m a witch,” I tell her. “I can’t do magic anymore, but I should be able to do this at least.”
She blinks at me, her brow furrowing as she takes in my words. And then without a moment’s hesitation, she interlinks our fingers together.
Magic is all about intention. The right words said at the right time in the right place are all well and good if you don’t have the right intentions behind them. I might no longer have the words, but maybe if our combined intention is strong enough, it’ll work.
“You’re connected to Kit. You’re also connected to me,” I say. “Maybe we can use our connection to try to trace him.”
“Do you really think we can do that?”
I have no idea. It’s been so long since I last used my magic for anything intentional, I don’t even know if it still works the same.
I grip her hand tight and search for the well inside me that used to be brimming with liquid gold and light.
Dipping my hand into it should feel like drawing water from a well.
Instead, it feels more like hacking at the mud at the bottom of a tired, old well and being rewarded with a spurt of dirty water.
Focusing on the slight pressure on my arm, I follow the thread that connects me to Reva. Right now, it’s weak. In my mind’s eye, it looks like a single golden spider’s thread that could snap with the slightest nudge.
Following another thread that’s linked to her chest, I find myself transported.
I can’t see where Kit is or what he’s doing, but there’s the sensation of wind hitting my face and the sunset right up ahead. It hits the ocean with flecks of pink and gold.
And then it fades.
I come back to myself, discovering I’m on my knees with both my magic and my energy depleted to nothing. But I can hear a faint voice above me.
“He’s still in the air. Following the shoreline and heading southwest.”
It worked.
Then Reva’s arms are around me, and my nose fills with the scent of seawater and damp wool.
I... can’t remember the last time anyone hugged me.
“Thank you. Thank you. I saw them,” she murmurs, hugging me tight to her chest, and I can feel her heart pounding. “I saw them. I felt them.” She pulls away slightly.
“Not for long enough.” Who knows if I can recover my magic enough to pinpoint their location properly.
“We can try again when you’ve had a proper sleep and some food.” She pushes my hair back from my face, peering into my eyes. “You did so well.”
My insides are a tumult of emotions and I can’t meet her eyes. I don’t think she has any idea what those words meant to someone like me.
I’m a shell of a person, really. I don’t have any interests or any money. I don’t have a home to go back to, or friends to introduce her to.
But I’m going to do what I can to deserve her. Even if it means moulding myself into someone worth her knowing, I’ll do it.
The captain leans forward, his gaze intense enough to flay me open, and Reva translates. “We’ll head southwest then.” He turns to me. “You don’t happen to know how to break curses, do you?”
I shake my head and he hums, releasing me from his focus. “Seems you know how to make them, but not break them, eh?”
He doesn’t know the half of it.