Chapter 12
When Henri was young, he’d thought pirates never cried.
They never blubbered, sobbed, or even shed a single tear.
Not in his maman’s stories, told in front of the bakery oven.
Not in the dozens of books he’d read since leaving home, even the romances.
His father had never cried, not in front of Henri at least. And maybe other pirates didn’t.
Maybe they were all unfeeling cutthroats like in the stories.
The crew of the Siren Song was different. They were family.
The whole crew had gathered on the deck, gulls wheeling in the blue spring sky, screeching when Nephele swooped near to harry them.
The Sweet Mercy was departing soon, the rigging in place, sails ready to be unfurled as her newly formed crew said their goodbyes.
All around him, people who’d sailed together for years slapped each other on the back, embraced, reminisced, and made plans for the winter when they’d all be reunited on Illusion.
No one mentioned that they might not all make it back.
That there was always the possibility, even the likelihood, that disaster would strike.
None of the Siren’s crew really wanted to leave.
But some saw opportunity for a bigger share among a smaller crew, a new adventure which few pirates could resist. And John, now Captain Hakon, needed people he could trust to temper the crew of the former Sweet Lettie.
Across the water, the crew of the Kraken engaged in similar, if less tearful, farewells.
Henri spotted the new captain up on the Mercy’s quarterdeck speaking with Doe Adair and the Demon.
He still wore his old navy uniform with its mismatched sleeve, but it seemed brighter somehow, less like a vestige of an old life.
John shook hands with the Demon, turning to survey his brand new ship, as the Demon crossed over to the Siren.
“Henri.”
Henri found Gael grinning tearfully up at him, Fox clinging to his side like a baby opossum.
“Congratulations, again.” He clapped Gael on the shoulder jovially.
When Fox had told him Gael was leaving again, all the protective instinct from Gael’s return in Fox’s life had come flooding back.
He’d almost made good on his promise to punch Gael in the face for ever causing Fox pain in the first place.
It was only Fox’s reassurances that he really was okay that had stayed his hand.
But to be honest, he was still mulling it over.
Fox didn’t really look okay at the moment. Henri could tell he was trying to put on a brave face and failing miserably, wearing his heart on the outside as always.
“Thanks.” Gael didn’t seem to want to let go of Fox either. His arm was tight around Fox’s waist. “I have to go soon, but can I ask you a favor? Will you look after Fox while I’m gone?”
“Does he need looking after?” Henri asked, one eyebrow raised.
“For a little while.”
Henri could hear the strain in Gael’s voice, and wondered, not for the first time, why he’d agreed to leave if it was going to cause this much pain.
A sharp whistle split the air, sending the gulls into an annoyed frenzy overhead. The crew started to filter toward the Sweet Mercy.
Gael let out a shaky breath, nodded to Henri, and steered Fox a short distance away. Henri tried not to pry, but he still heard the hitch in Fox’s voice.
“Be safe.”
Gael drew Fox tight against his shoulder, murmuring assurances and love in his ear. They stayed like that as the Mercy’s crew started the last preparations without their new first mate. Gael kept his face buried in Fox’s wild hair.
When they separated, Gael kissed him, and Henri looked away, his gaze landing on Robin as if drawn to him. He stood near the knot of conscripts, his dour-faced brother by his side.
“Last chance to tell me to stay,” Gael said to Fox, an attempt at good humor in his tone. Fox murmured something that sounded sarcastic.
Robin noticed Henri looking at him, visibly perking up like a puppy hoping for attention.
Henri’s heart twisted. He’d been giving Robin the cold shoulder since their fight, despite several attempts at reconciliation on Robin’s part.
The first night, Henri had slept in a spare hammock in the general crew quarters and woken with a sore back.
After that he went to Logan’s room, found it curiously empty, and crashed in his bunk.
He’d slept there every night since, moving to the spare cot when Logan had come back from wherever he’d been, and only returned to his own room to grab a few things while Robin was out.
Each day when he saw Robin around the ship—even though he was avoiding him, they always seemed to run into each other—he looked more and more wrung out.
Like he wasn’t sleeping properly. It hurt to know it was because of him, but Henri couldn’t bring himself to forgive yet.
He knew Robin hadn’t told David about them, and David was still acting like all of them were rabid dogs ready to snatch him up at any moment.
No doubt he was in Robin’s ear every day, poisoning him against the crew, trying to convince him to escape and go home.
Was there even anything to tell anymore? Henri had left in such a huff, and everything felt up in the air, like Nephele had kidnapped their relationship and held it hostage in the sky among the screaming gulls.
Henri shook those thoughts from his head. He might be mad at Robin, but he didn’t want to leave him. And judging by the hopeful, sad puppy-dog way Robin looked at him every time, neither did Robin. Henri didn’t even really know how they could fix all this. He didn’t know anything, really.
Henri dragged his gaze away just as the Demon approached Robin and the small knot of sailors that had been conscripted to the Siren crew, most of whom shrank back like the captain was going to rip their faces off with his bare hands.
Henri couldn’t blame them, the Demon was one scary bastard.
The only one of the group who didn’t cower before him now was Robin.
Henri looked back over to Gael and Fox in time for their final embrace, both clinging to the other like a lifeline.
What must it be like to grow up with someone as your whole world like that, then be separated?
Henri imagined it felt much worse than the chasm that currently stretched between him and Robin.
The two pulled apart.
“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” Gael said, thumbing Fox’s chin affectionately.
“Only if you promise to come back.”
“Promise.”
Gael stepped away and, casting one last lingering look at his lover, crossed the gangplank to his new ship.
His arrival sparked renewed activity. Gangplanks were pulled, lines cast off, and the Kraken and Siren drifted away from the Sweet Mercy’s sides.
Fox whirled, found Henri a few feet away, and tucked himself under Henri’s arm.
“You okay?” The Mercy’s pristine sails unfurled under Gael’s orders.
A sniffle. “Never better.”
“You can still go after him, you know. None of us would begrudge you leaving if it was to be with him.” That wasn’t entirely the truth. Rowan, Logan, and Henri at least would be heartbroken. Fox was the glue that held them all together.
“And deny you all the radiance of my presence? I’m not cruel,” Fox joked, his voice still a bit teary. Henri handed over a piece of honey candy from his pocket without a word, just like the first time they’d met. Fox popped it into his mouth with a huff.
“Still mad at Robin?” he slurred, his tongue dampened by the weight of the sweet.
“Yeah.” Henri didn’t dare glance Robin’s direction. He could feel David’s glare creeping across his skin like a sunburn.
The Mercy’s crew pulled the planks and mooring lines as the sails filled with the spring breeze.
“Wanna make him jealous?”
Always the sly flirt, even if there was no longer intent behind it.
“I’m sure he’s already suffering enough.”
The Sweet Mercy pulled away, slowly tracking between the white islands. Fox peeked around Henri’s body to glare back at David.
“You think so? Want me to dump the brother overboard?”
That was half tempting. “He’s Robin’s brother,” Henri protested.
“I promise to fish him out before he drowns!”
“You’re not dumping anyone overboard,” Rowan interjected sternly, as he strode up to them.
He ran an appraising eye over the pair of them.
Fox disheveled and weepy, Henri no doubt looking as miserable and lost as he felt.
“You two are a sorry pair. I should give you something to do to distract you.”
“We’re heartbroken, Captain. Leave us alone.” Fox pouted.
“Should’ve gone with your lover then, shouldn’t you?
” Rowan said, ruffling Fox’s hair. Fox leaned into the touch, and when Rowan tried to take his hand away, Fox snatched it and placed it on his head again.
Was he going to be this clingy till Gael got back?
Maybe Henri really would have to keep an eye on him.
Fox pouted more when Rowan pulled his hand back after only one more pat.
“Trying to get rid of me, Captain? I’m not that much trouble, am I?
” He was putting on his bratty act, but both Henri and Rowan knew him well enough by now to see through it.
Rowan’s expression softened, and Henri squeezed Fox’s shoulder.
“Of course not. What would we do without you? I’m just saying if you want to go with him, we understand.” Rowan smiled, crossed scars tugging his cheek.
Fox sniffled. In any other circumstance, he would’ve offered up another joke, but he looked Rowan dead in the eye and said, “I’m not leaving my home. Not even for him,” with all the certainty in his body.
Rowan’s smile was as fond as Henri felt. He patted Fox’s shoulder where Henri’s hand still rested. “Run along and find something useful to do. And don’t throw anybody overboard.”