Chapter Ten
Theron’s ship was twice the size of Russo’s, though you wouldn’t know it at first glance. No skull on the sails, no symbol of threat. Just plain white canvas catching the wind, ordinary enough to draw no unwanted attention.
His crew had been polite, giving us space and staying their distance. None of them had asked who we were or where we’d come from. If they were curious, they kept it to themselves, which told me everything about the kind of ship Theron ran.
Since boarding I hadn’t seen Theron, occupied by the captain’s duty. A young female crew member named Fraya had taken charge of us instead—reddish hair pulled back, her build curvy and sturdy in a way that made her look like she could haul rope and hold her own in a fight equally well.
A thin scar snaked up from her collarbone, barely visible beneath her tunic. I tried not to stare. She had led us below and laid out clean clothes, plain pale brown pants and shirts, then gave us space.
The fabric was soft compared to the rough material I’d worn my entire life.
I held the shirt a moment before putting it on.
A bit big, so I rolled up my sleeves and tied the front, and helped Jina.
The pants were baggy and long, so I rolled them up from the bottom.
Then I tied back Jina’s hair and then my own. We were good to go.
“Come on,” Fraya said when she spotted us ascending the stairs. “I’ll show you around before you get lost and end up overboard.”
She led us across the deck, pointing things out as we went, rattling off names like she expected us to remember all of it.
“This here’s the main deck. You’ll spend most of your time on it.
That raised platform at the back is the poop deck.
Captain’s quarters sit just below.” She pointed up, where ropes crossed in a tight ladder pattern up one of the towering poles.
“Those are the ratlines connected to the mast. Climb them if you’re feeling brave, but most of the crew leaves that work to the ones who actually know what they’re doing.
” Her gaze went higher to a small platform near the very top of the mast. “That’s the crow’s nest. It’s the best view on the ship, but it’s the worst way to spend a storm.
” She gestured toward the front. “And that’s the forecastle deck, up at the bow. ”
“I don’t think I’ll remember any of this,” Jina planted a hand on her forehead, looking a little dazed.
“You will.” Fraya winked. “Give it a couple of days. Now the best part. We get to eat.”
Dinner had been chicken and potatoes, warm and seasoned, served at a small table below deck. The best meal I’d had in days. Jina had eaten every last bite and Ranis had asked for seconds.
The crew moved with calm efficiency, no barking orders, no cracking whips, no boots hammering the deck in a hurry. Even the ship smelled different, pine and clean salt air.
This time I didn’t have to pry oysters for pearls. This time I stood on the front deck with Ranis and Jina and let the cool wind kiss my face, watching the sun sink into the water and the stars appear in the darkening sky.
I couldn’t look away. Something in my chest eased and ached in the same breath, happiness and grief with no reason, like the stars were trying to tell me something I’d forgotten.
But for the first time I let out a full breath. For the first time I’d known peace.
My thoughts went back to Nam and my sisters I’d left behind. I wanted them to know what it felt like to be free. To stand on a deck like this one, wind in their faces, no guard at their backs, no quota of pearls to fill by evening. Just the open sea and the freedom of choice.
“I can’t believe Captain Russo is dead.” Ranis gripped the railing, a grin lighting his face. “I’m free. I’m properly free from that bastard.”
“Nothing is free.” Theron’s voice came from above.
He stood on the upper deck peering down at us, hair swept back from the wind. No coat and no hat. He could look like a being out of a beautiful dream. Except he wasn’t when he opened his mouth.
“What do you mean?” Jina blinked up at him, strands of hair dancing across her delicate face from the wind.
“Exactly what I said.” He flicked dust off his tunic and stared down at Ranis. “You most of all should know what I mean. Life is a debt you spend your whole life repaying. The sooner you accept that, the less it stings.”
Ranis’s grin faded. He looked down at his hands still on the railing, the easy joy of a moment ago gone.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Jina said softly.
“It’s the truth.” Theron’s eyes moved from Ranis to her without apology.
“Maybe.” I crossed my arms. “Or maybe some people have already paid more than their share and are owed the rest.”
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite surprise, but close enough.
“Is that so?” A note of humor in his voice I didn’t appreciate.
“It is. So, what is it you think we owe you, Theron?” I put some punch behind his name.
His sharp eyes dropped to mine and stayed there a beat too long. “You two.” He jerked his chin at Jina and Ranis without looking at them. “Leave us. We have business to discuss.”
I gave Jina a small nod. She hesitated, then took Ranis by the arm and steered him toward the lower deck. Ranis went without protest, though he threw one look back over his shoulder at me before disappearing below.
The deck fell quiet, despite the few crew members swiping the boards with mops, some others laughing, chatting, and drinking on the upper deck. Just the wind and the water and the creak of the hull.
I faced forward to the open sea, fingers gripping the railing, and waited.
The thud of his boots against the wood cut sharp through the quiet. He had leapt off from the upper deck and landed beside me.
Show-off.
I didn’t look at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that I was impressed.
“Did you have to jump?”
“Would you have preferred I walked down?”
“I would have preferred you stayed where you were.”
“The dagger.” He held out a hand. “Now.”
I drew it and laid the flat of the blade against his throat instead of his palm.
He looked down at it, then at me, one eyebrow lifting.
“When we reach shore,” I said, jaw clenched. “Not before.”
“That’s not how bargaining works.” He didn’t move, didn’t reach for it. “You’re supposed to hand over the thing you’re bargaining with.”
“I changed the terms.”
“Did you?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Careful. Last man who held a blade to my throat lost a hand.”
“I’m not worried.”
“No?”
“You’d have taken it back by now if you meant to.”
Humor danced in his face. He placed a hand, not on the dagger, but my fingers, and pushed it an inch lower until it sat against his collarbone instead.
“There,” he said. “Now you’re not going to nick something I need.”
“Where are you taking us?” I put the dagger back in its safe place.
He leaned against the railing. “Somewhere safe. Eventually.”
“Eventually?” I narrowed my eyes.
“I have somewhere to be first.”
“Where?” The wind whipped strands of hair across my face and I brushed them back.
“Like I said.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Life is a debt.”
He wasn’t going to tell me. Fine. I would find out soon enough.
I faced back to the calm ocean, the moonlight reflecting off the dark surface. “What were you doing there at the tavern?” When he kept quiet, I said, “Let me guess. You were paying a debt.” Though I had no idea what kind and why.
He continued to stay silent, glancing out at the sea as if he could see a memory there. I guessed this conversation was done.
I took a step away to head to Jina, but his fingers closed around my wrist.
“What did the king of Jeju make you do? Were you mistreated?”
Why that question? Why did he care? To humiliate me?
“Mistreated?” A short laugh escaped me as I pulled free of his grip. “Is that what we’re calling it? There’s not a word strong enough for what he did to us.”
It was difficult to talk about the family I’d been forced to leave behind. And I had no idea why I was confessing any of this to a stranger.
His jaw clenched, eyes darkening until the blue was almost gone. “How long were you held captive?”
I swallowed. “All my life. Twenty-five years. My mother died shortly after giving birth to me. I was raised in the cavern the same way she had been. She was a slave, same as her mother before her, most likely.”
“Your father?”
I shook my head. “Nobody knows. Not even Nam.”
“Nam?”
“One of the elders. A mother figure to all of us, but especially to me.” I didn’t bother telling him how none of us had names until I gave them one. “Why were you at the auction if you didn’t buy anyone?”
“Resse told me about it. I’d thought I’d take a look.”
“How do you know Resse?”
“We’re pirates.” He shrugged. “We all know each other.”
“Were you at the auction for me specifically?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself. I have no interest in your kind.”
“And what exactly do you mean?” I slapped the railing.
He held my gaze. “That’s a conversation for another time.”
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me, anger searing through my veins. “No. I’d like to know now.”
Up close, he smelled of pine and honey, the same scent at the tavern.
He looked down at my fist twisted in his tunic, then back up to my face. “You know nothing of this world.” He pulled back, my grasp releasing him free. “You need someone far more patient than I could ever be to explain it. Got it?”
“Then at least tell me why were you watching me at the cave? What or whom were you looking for?”
He leaned his face to mine. “Entertainment was scarce. I was bored.”
I crossed my arm. “I’m glad my misery amused you.”
“It did.” He walked to the other side of me. “And you held the conductor’s stare like you were deciding whether to kill him.” Something almost like approval moved through his voice. “It wasn’t hard to miss.”
I looked away.
“You spent your entire life in a cavern prying shells for a king who never once asked your name.” He said it without cruelty, which somehow made it worse. “You know nothing of this world. No name. No history. Nothing.”
I lifted my chin. “I know enough. I know that one day I’m going to set my family free. I’ll find work. Earn wages. Save enough to buy swords and hire men who know how to use them. And then I’m going back for every woman that king left in that cavern.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“And what would you like to be called?” he asked.
I was surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”
“Jina calls you Sis. That’s not your true name.”
I looked up at the stars scattered across the darkness, thick as pearls across a table. I had no answer. I had tried names before—Minyoung, Song, Wren—and none of them had ever fit.
“I don’t know,” I murmured.
He followed my gaze upward. A long quiet passed between us, the wind moving through his hair, the ship swaying gently.
Lightning cracked far away at the edge of the world, one thin silver vein splitting the dark. When it faded, more stars burned where none had been before.
“How about Star,” he said. “You seem to like them.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He closed his eyes, one hand pressing against his chest. When he opened them, something in his face had dimmed. What had I said?
“Besides,” I added. “That’s the best a pirate captain can do?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Would you prefer something less poetic?”
“I’d prefer a name that doesn’t sound like you named a pet.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t have a pet.”
“First time for everything.” I shrugged. “If I had a dog, I would name her Pearl. She would be white and beautiful.”
“You should name yourself Pearl then,” his voice lowered.
I didn’t have a response. I wasn’t sure if he was being honest. But it was the kindest thing he’d said since the cave, which wasn’t saying much. But it settled warm somewhere in my chest.
Footfalls padded across the deck. A woman giggled, flinging her arms around his chest from behind.
“There you are. Come to bed.”
So that was his type—beautiful, tall, a blonde with a voice that could seduce any man in the room without trying.
He kissed her in front of me, deep and passionate, a low groan leaving him that sent a funny feeling down to my stomach, and lower, warmth rising in my face. His hands roamed her body, unbothered by my presence.
Time for me to look away.
I didn’t know if he loved her, and I didn’t care. But I wished someone would kiss me the same way, just to experience it once. To know what it felt like to be wanted. But love was something I couldn’t afford, and I might not live long enough to ever feel that with someone special.
I looked back up at the stars while those two walked away. Their laughter faded below deck, swallowed by the sound of the water and my hopeless wishes.