Chapter 28
“Hold this.”
Henri sighed against the cold metal of the infirmary bench, but nonetheless held his hand up for Robin to place some inexplicable medical implement in.
His fingers closed around the smooth metal and glass without looking, much preferring to remain in his current position with his forehead resting against the worktop.
“Am I boring you?” The clink of glass and sound of pouring liquid accompanied Robin’s amused voice.
“Unbearably,” Henri groaned. He’d come down hoping to get a good cuddle in before his shift, only to find his boyfriend deep in some concocting process that couldn’t be interrupted.
Instead of going back up to the deck, Henri had accepted his fate as designated things-holder until it was time for him to report for duty.
“Why don’t you go read or something?” More clinking, a pungent smell wafted over, and Henri’s nose wrinkled.
“I wanna spend time with you,” he grumbled.
Even though they’d made up weeks ago, and had really only been fighting for a short time in the first place, Henri hadn’t been able to get enough of his boyfriend.
He felt clingy, barely able to think about anything but Robin when they were away from each other.
And when they were together, he wanted to share everything.
It didn’t help that so much of Robin’s free time was still taken up with making sure David stayed out of trouble and away from Rowan, who still had a short fuse about the almost-drowning situation.
“Poor baby,” Robin cooed. A faint thump sounded on the worktop, and Robin’s fingertips caressed the exposed back of Henri’s neck, trailing comfort.
Henri’s hair beads clacked against the metal counter as he turned his head.
Robin petted him as he focused on the task at hand.
Henri let his mind wander for a moment, enjoying the casual intimacy of Robin’s touch.
“I had a sister, once.”
Robin’s fingers stilled where he’d been absently playing with Henri’s hair beads. Robin set the glass vial he’d been examining down beside the other items cluttering his workspace.
“Had?” There was a quiet wariness in Robin’s voice.
Since their reconciliation, they’d started talking more about their pasts, their families.
Robin told Henri about how he’d almost been caught kissing another boy in the library his first year of university.
Henri told Robin how Maman had scolded him and the baker’s boys till they cried when they ate all the honeycomb in the bakery pantry and got the worst tummy aches of their young lives.
He and Robin had laughed, listened with sympathy, and comforted.
Robin told him about running away. How it had felt like drowning, his whole future cut off at the roots he’d so carefully tended.
Henri had told Robin about Maman’s death.
How it had been slow. Henri had cared for her for years, and by the end, she was a husk of the woman she’d once been.
But Henri hadn’t told him about this. He’d never told anyone about it.
“She died,” Henri said. Robin’s fingers were on the little clay bead his sister had made him.
After that first winter playing together on their father’s ship.
She’d found clay somewhere, and borrowed paint from a crew member, and decorated the bead with little swirls like waves and a border of uneven triangles.
She’d worn it on a ribbon around her neck all summer, till she could gleefully present it to him the moment he stepped onto the ship as the first blustery winds of winter blew.
The paint was hopelessly faded now. Just a few chips of blue and red remained. The clay was cracked, and he’d already glued it back together twice.
Robin’s large hand smoothed Henri’s hair away from his forehead.
“How did she die?”
Henri scuffed his bare foot against the floorboards.
“I don’t know actually. She was my half sister, older by a few years.
And we didn’t even meet until I was eight.
She lived on our father’s ship, so I only got to see her when they wintered in port.
” Robin’s hand continued its strokes against his forehead, soothing away the little sparks of grief that threatened.
“Maman didn’t like her. She wouldn’t let her stay in our flat above the bakery.
And they didn’t always make it back to our port before winter.
” He’d never really understood why his kind, loving mother didn’t want his sister to stay with them.
Surely living above the bakery would have been better than the cold ship?
He’d offered, even begged, to give up his own bed for his new sister.
But his sister had never set foot off that ship for as long as he’d known her.
“They stopped visiting when I was fourteen or fifteen. I wanted to go find them but Maman got sick and…” Henri took a shuddering breath.
He shouldn’t have brought this up now, when Robin was busy, and it was only a few minutes till Henri had to report on deck.
But when Robin had started fiddling with the bead, he couldn’t stop the flood of memories.
“Take your time,” Robin said quietly. He brushed his sheaf of wheaten hair out of his eyes, almost long enough now to gather into a tiny tail.
“My father came back a year or two before Maman died. To say goodbye, I think. But my sister wasn’t with him. When I asked where she was, he just said ‘she’s gone’ and left.”
Robin’s soothing hand stilled. “Gone? Not dead, but gone?”
Henri nodded.
“So couldn’t she still be alive?”
“He looked so…” Henri shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory of his father’s sunken cheeks and haunted eyes. “He wasn’t in his right mind. Grief was eating him up.”
Robin nodded, thoughtful.
“But for a while there, after I joined the Siren, I’d look for her in every port. Just in case.” He sighed, feeling silly about it now. “I don’t know if I was really looking. I was probably just trying to make myself feel better.”
The aft bell clanged twice, the signal for the afternoon shift change. Henri sat up, offering the metal and glass tube-like item in his hand back to Robin. Robin cupped his hands around Henri’s, his hazel gaze soft and inviting.
“Thank you for telling me, Henri.”
Henri nodded. His shoulders felt lighter, as if some weight he didn’t even know he was carrying was now shared between them. Robin leaned over the table to kiss the tip of his nose. The aft bell rang again, reminding Henri of his duties.
“What was her name? Your sister?”
“Nianthe.”
Henri’s footsteps were the only sound in the halls of the Siren as he made his way up toward the deck.
They’d wasted days evading the Marigold, only to realize Colonel Baird hadn’t followed them at all.
Rowan had puzzled over this as they turned north, intent to catch up to the Monsoon, wherever she might be, only to realize Baird had had the same idea.
The two ships exchanged a couple volleys of cannon fire from a distance before Rowan ordered them to pull back.
Henri didn’t know the exact plan, but they now followed the Marigold north, just barely keeping her in their sights.
Rowan didn’t seem all that happy about it, but if they wanted to find Zanta quick, what better way than to hunt the hunter?
Between Rowan’s sour mood and chasing the mercenaries for weeks on end, tension hung over the crew like an executioner’s blade.
There were pockets of joviality here and there.
Fox was back to his usual bubbly self after recovering from his concussion, and if he was a little extra clingy with his friends, none of them actually minded it.
There were murmurs from some that they should turn tail and go back to proper pirating.
No one would say it out loud though; they all knew once their captain set his mind on something, he would see it through to the end.
And they still held him in enough esteem to trust his leadership.
The bigger problem with morale was—
“Hey, you!”
Henri flinched at the voice, so like Robin’s, but with anger and bitterness threaded through.
He kept walking, hoping that ignoring David would discourage him from whatever rude thing he was going to say.
But David stomped up and blocked his way before Henri could escape.
The stagnant, musty smell of bilge water wafted off him, and Henri wrinkled his nose.
He was in no mood for this, and he tried to push past without too much aggression, but that only let David push him back.
“What do you want?” Henri asked wearily. Rowan really shouldn’t have allowed him the option to stay back in Kadling Kay.
“I want you to stay away from my brother,” David retorted, chest puffed out and fists balled like that would intimidate Henri into obeying.
“This again? Stop wasting both our time.” Henri tried to push past again. He was already late for his shift, and didn’t have time to entertain David’s bigoted arguments.
David shoved him. They were similar in height, but Henri had years of pirating behind him, and David was a painter. Henri didn’t even stumble.
“You’re just itching to stay on bilge duty, huh? Let me pass, or I’ll drag you to the captain myself.”
David’s face screwed up in disgust. He seemed incapable of getting along with anyone on the ship, least of all Henri. How could two brothers have such different temperaments? Robin seemed to have gotten all the gentleness and caring in the family, and he’d ended up becoming a pirate.
“Just stay away from Robin! This is your last warning. Leave him, or you’ll regret it,” David snarled.
Henri wasn’t an aggressive person by nature, but this was getting irritating. He stepped back into David’s personal space, not to push past this time.
“And what are you gonna do? You’re stuck on this ship till the captain lets you leave.
The only people here who care whether you live or die are Robin and me, and I only care because I don’t want Robin to get hurt.
” He crowded even closer, looming over David in a way he hoped was intimidating.
“Don’t you dare do anything that will cause Robin pain. ”
David’s expression hardened further. “I’m bringing him home, whether he wants to go or not.”
Footsteps sounded overhead and Henri pushed away. He didn’t have time for this. There was nothing David could do if Robin didn’t want to leave.
“Good luck with that, ’cause I’m not letting him go.”