Chapter Four
Jina and Minha were still tucked against me, their breathing slow and even.
For a moment, caught in that thin space between sleep and waking, I thought I was back in the cavern. The same cold floor beneath my bones, the same sound of waves. Then the ship swayed and the illusion broke.
I was not in the cavern. I would never be in the cavern again. I didn’t know yet if that was a mercy.
The air smelled of old grease and the faint sweetness of yesterday’s bread. My neck ached from the angle of the floor and my legs had gone stiff, but some part of me had accepted that as normal.
“Rise and shine, Seaborns!” Brando’s boot connected with the doorframe hard enough to rattle it. “Sun’s been up an hour. You sleep like you’re paying for the room. Kitchen. Now. Help the old man with the morning meal.”
Jina startled awake, yawning. “Why does he call us that?”
Minha sat up beside her, eyes sharp, hand moving toward her secret pocket before she thought better of it. “I suppose it’s better than girl, or hey.”
I rose without a word and folded my blanket. We would dock soon. I would never see Brando again, and that suited me just fine.
The kitchen was at the back of the ship, already warm from the cook’s fire. The cook stood at the stove, his back to us, stirring.
He didn’t turn around to greet us. “Bread needs cutting. Porridge needs watching. Don’t let it stick. And peel the eggshells.”
We got to work.
The ship rolled through a deep swell, enough that the cook braced a hand against the counter. I kept cutting. Jina kept stirring. Minha didn’t look up from the eggs.
The cook set his spoon down. “Any of you sick?”
I looked up from the pot. “Should we be?”
He studied us a moment, a thought shifting behind those eyes. “Every landlubber who comes aboard spends the first day hanging over the rail.”
I looked at Jina. She looked at Minha. None of us had an answer. But as the ship swayed, all I felt was the same thing I had felt since hitting the water, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
The cook glanced at us sideways, then turned back to his pot and stirred. “In forty years on this water, I’ve never seen landlubbers take to the sea like you three.”
His words went through one ear and out the other. I had no idea what he meant.
Kit came racing down the narrow hall, boots loud on the wood, and stopped short, his gaze landing on Jina. The light caught her petite frame, the paleness of her skin, hazel eyes blinking up at him. She looked ethereal, like something the sea had conjured.
He forgot whatever had made him run. Despite our predicament and the people on this ship, I smiled. Kit seemed to have a good heart, unlike Resse and Brando.
“Boy…” The cook waved a ladle. “Stop looking at her like she’s your morning meal. What do you want?”
Kit’s face flushed red to the tips of his ears. “I—Resse wants food brought up.”
Jina ducked her head and went back to stirring. But the corner of her mouth gave a hint of a smile.
“Here, take these.” The cook ladled porridge into bowls, added eggs, and stacked bread on a separate plate. He thrust it all toward Kit. “And keep your eyes on the stairs, not the help.”
Kit took the tray, glanced once more at Jina, and left.
The cook shook his head and went back to his pot while we set the meal on the counter. We stood as we ate. There was nowhere to sit anyway.
“So.” The cook shoved an egg into his mouth. “Where’ve you come from?”
I debated making up a story, but Resse already knew where we’d come from. A lie wouldn’t benefit us. And what could he do with the truth anyway?
“A cavern,” I said, taking a spoonful of thick, warm porridge, steam rising from the bowl. “We’ve never been anywhere else.”
He chewed, studying us the way he had earlier. “Never?”
“Never.” Jina set her bowl down. “We don’t know much about any of this.”
He seemed to weigh that, then nodded once as if it explained something he’d already suspected.
Minha broke off a piece of bread. “What does it mean to be sold?”
The cook’s jaw slowed and swallowed. “Means someone pays coin for you and you belong to them. Work their land, their house, their ship. Whatever they need.”
“Like the cavern,” Jina grumbled under her breath.
“Worse, in some cases.”
Those words made my skin crawl.
“Does everyone live on ships?” I asked.
The cook almost smiled. “No, girl. Most people live on land. Cities, villages, farms. Some even in the forest.” He picked up his ladle. “Ships are for people who can’t stay still or have no other choice.”
“What kind of world is out there?” I took another spoonful of the porridge.
He was quiet long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he set his bowl down and leaned against the counter, stroking his gray beard.
“There are kingdoms. Each with their own king, own laws. The king you came from rules the land called Jeju. Richest of the seven because of the pearls.” He glanced at us sideways. “Your pearls.”
My jaw tightened.
“Beyond Jeju there’s forest, mountain, desert. Places you’ve never imagined.” He pushed off the counter. “And Juno where we’re headed, is a port city. Belongs to no king. That’s why people like Resse operate there. No laws worth speaking of.”
“No laws,” Minha repeated, defiance kindling behind her eyes.
“Don’t get any ideas.” He pointed a piece of bread he tore off at her. “No laws means no protection either.”
Jina braced a hand against the wall as the ship dipped hard. “Are there others like us? People taken from their homes and sold?”
The cook furrowed his brow. “More than you’d want to know.”
Seven kingdoms. A port city with no laws. A world so much larger than the cavern had ever let us imagine, a place where women with no name and no history might disappear.
I finished my porridge and wiped my mouth. “Tell me about Resse, Brando, and Kit.”
The cook tore off another piece of bread and chewed, considering, then finally said, “Resse grew up on these waters. Her parents lost everything to the king of Jeju when she was young. The ship, cargo, crew. After her parents died, she built herself back up. If she seems ruthless, she has reasons.”
“And Brando?” Minha dipped bread into her porridge.
“Brando is loyal to whoever feeds and pays him. He’s been with Resse for a long time.”
“What about Kit?” Jina said softly, her cheeks turning pink.
The corner of the cook’s mouth curved. “Kit is Resse’s cousin. Twenty-five, I believe. He’s been on this ship ever since his parents passed.” He picked up his bowl. “He’s a fine young man.”
“And you?” I stumbled back and found my footing as the ship lurched. “How did you end up here?”
He took a long sip from his cup, set it down, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. For a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. Instead, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
“I lost my wife while giving birth to our son. I drowned in grief and didn’t attend to my bakery shop.
I accumulated debts I couldn’t pay. So I had a choice between prison or the sea.
” He shrugged. “Resse needed a cook. I needed a way out. That was eleven years ago.” He picked up an egg and chewed, talking with his mouthful.
“Finish your food. Resse will want the kitchen cleaned before we hit open water.”
“What happens when we hit open water?” Minha grabbed the counter as the ship rolled hard, leaning with it to keep her footing.
Before he could say another word, the rhythm of boots on the deck above changed, faster, purposeful, the low murmur of the crew rising into urgent.
Then Kit’s voice rang down from above. “Land!”
The three of us looked at each other and rushed up to the deck. We had lived our entire lives inside four rocky walls, and somewhere out there past the bow of this ship, the world was ours to explore.