Chapter Twenty-Six Into the Deep #2
“A hundred years later, she sank, too. Then came the Narissa and so on. Each time she sank, my family rebuilt the ship just as before, with a few minor improvements. It is not our way to hold on to structures of wood and fiber. If I go down in the Kasmore Deep, my father will rebuild this ship stronger and better than it was before. He will fly the Voláni banners again, and all across the Five Seas, seafarers will quake in his presence. Our affinity for gambling is why we have managed to survive so long.”
Reya liked the captain better every minute. “Why Acadia?”
“She was named for my mother. I thought Caelan would have told you that.”
“Caelan doesn’t gossip. At least, not without a good deal of prodding.”
Kalúe smiled. “When I was a girl, Caelan would make little fiery animals and have them chase me and my brother around the ship.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t burn it down.”
“If he’d charred a single plank, my father would have sailed into the Kasmore Deep just to throw him overboard.” The captain handed her the bundle she’d retrieved from her private quarters. “Here.”
Reya unfolded a pair of brown leather trousers, a crisp white shirt and dark blue underbust corset, and a stack of cut linens. “What’s this?”
“I can scent the blood. And you haven’t changed clothes for days. The rum is to dull the cramps.”
Did she really smell that bad? She’d used all her linens for Caelan’s bandages, and the only other females on the ship were Omira and Kalúe. She barely knew the captain, and Reya wouldn’t ask Omira for help if she had blood coming out of her eyes. So she’d been tearing up her spare tunics.
Reya cleared her throat. “Thank you. But you should know I’ve never worn a corset in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.”
Kalúe chuckled. “You’ll have to. That shirt will swallow you.
Here.” She spread the boned fabric flat on the desk.
“This one is reversible. It can be tied from the back and the front. That way, you don’t need help getting dressed.
” She handed it back to Reya. “You can keep it. My mother left me dozens of them.”
Reya gestured to the portrait of a woman with Kalúe’s features. “Is that her?”
“Aye. She was a beauty, wasn’t she?”
“This artist had a good hand.”
That’s when Reya saw it. The medallion draped around the woman’s neck. Reya had looked at that medallion a thousand times. The jeweled face was identical down to the golden V.
“Is that a family heirloom?” Reya asked, taking another casual sip of her drink.
Kalúe’s tone was cold. “Voláni heirs have worn that medallion for generations, since the time we were rulers. It was given to my brother,” she cleared her throat, “but he got involved with the wrong person. The bastard enlisted him to do a job and held our family medallion as collateral to keep him true to his word. My brother was killed working for him, and he kept the medallion as a trophy.”
Reya cursed under her breath.
“My father will get his revenge one day. We might be brigands, but we have our code. To kill a traitor when they are claiming sanctuary in Ria’s sister Loire’s domain is an offense to our All-God.
Only at sea may we take what is owed. And there’s not a captain in the world who would cross my father to give him passage.
If he ever dips a toe into the sea, I’ll feed him to the sharks myself. ”
At last, she knew what Lennox had stolen from Reardon Voláni: his son. And an heirloom of his house, one that should have passed to Kalúe.
“You know where he is, but you won’t go kill him because it would offend your All-God.” Reya shook her head. “I suppose there is honor among thieves after all.”
Kalúe hummed thoughtfully. “Honor? No. Try religion.”
It was a watery graveyard.
Broken hulls and cracked masts jutted out of the water like spears on a field of war along the endless pale line of Shipbreaker Reef.
The Acadia had been hugging the crest for hours now, searching for a way through as the world slipped into the muted blues of dusk.
Reya peered over the portside railing to where a white sail pooled on the surface, clinging to a barnacle-covered prow with a lion’s face.
Most of the legends agreed that the edge of the world lay beyond the Fifth Sea. She wondered if the All-Gods had made these waters so dangerous as a type of protection to keep fools like them from falling over the side.
Reya pushed the pieces of cotton Kalúe had distributed farther into her ear canal, the one piece of armor they had against another pressing threat: the Sirens.
The scaled, flesh-eating women could lure a sailor into the water with a single note.
Not just for food—because that would be too simple—but for entertainment.
Sirens could see a person’s past, present, and future unfold after tasting a single drop of their blood, and they were loyal only to the King of the Deep.
For centuries, people had sought the Sirens for a glimpse of their destiny, and it usually got them killed.
And these waters were famous for them.
Reya bit her lip as the Acadia followed a dark swirl into the reef.
Kalúe stood at the helm, eyes narrowed in concentration as she guided them through the maze of sunken ships and white coral that reached for the surface like ghostly hands.
Every so often there was a scraping against the hull, and Reya’s fingers dug into the railing until it passed.
The very air seemed to grow thin. Worse, they were sailing into the kind of fog that touched mountain peaks. It swallowed the ship whole, and the constellations overhead winked out, leaving them blind in the water.
Then the sails of the Acadia fell utterly still.
Kalúe’s voice was foreboding as she said, “Welcome to the Kasmore Deep.”
As the absolute silence of the place settled over them, the men began to whisper.
“Ria save us all.”
“We’ll be dead by sunrise.”
Reya remarked that the earplugs were not very effective and took them out.
As the crew broke away from the railing, Reya tossed them over the side with an annoyed huff, watching as they dropped to the surface and swelled, absorbing the water.
Without a sound, a webbed hand reached up from the depths, closed around the cotton, and pulled it down into the black.
Reya jerked back with a sharp intake of breath.
The surface settled as though it had never been disturbed, and she told herself it had merely been a trick of the mind.
Kalúe let go of the helm but remained on the quarterdeck.
Zantae took her place, gripping the ornate spokes, but his dark eyes never left his captain.
Reya watched as emerald Ire raced up the sides of her neck.
The captain stretched out her arms, and the waters began to churn, propelling the ship into a gentle glide.
Reya wasn’t sure how long they coasted, only that it seemed to grow colder and darker with every passing minute. Finally, they slowed to a stop.
The captain’s voice cut through the hushed panic like a battering ram: “You know what to do!”
“You heard the captain!” Zantae shouted. “Cast loose the cannons!”
Those who had been assigned below deck for damage control gathered supplies from the hatches and made their way down, along with half of the crew who had been assigned to man the cannons. Those who remained began passing out weapons from the ship’s armory.
“Gunners take posts!”
They’d done it. They’d actually reached the Fifth Sea. Now, all they had to do was kill a Kraken. Harvest its blood. And make it out alive. In that order.
Reya shifted her new corset into a more comfortable position against her ribcage. The fabrics were soft against her sunburned skin and smelled of brine, citrus, and pipe smoke.
Thance cleared his throat, cutting into the tense silence. “This is where I leave you.”
Reya forced her eyes away from the water, echoing the sound. “Keep us afloat, will you?”
“Call for me if it looks like we’re all about to die.”
“Very funny,” Reya said.
Then the twins faced each other.
“Yeah, yeah,” Omira mumbled. “You love me and all that.”
They didn’t embrace, but there was a glimmer in Thance’s eye. When their silent conversation was over, Thance looked to Reya, and she heard his voice in her head.
Give them a good show.
Then he was gone.
Reya and the Alethians would spend the next several days in shifts, they’d explained to Kalúe, hoping the battle would be done long before the captain thought to question why Caelan wasn’t with them.
When all the men were in position, Kalúe descended the stairs from the quarterdeck, looking at Reya and gesturing toward the center of the deck as though it were some grand stage. “You’re up.”
And so, their vigil began.
Two nights passed, and they didn’t see so much as a ripple in the water. Even as her stomach growled and her body begged for rest, Reya didn’t dare take her eyes off the sea. Omira had already come to relieve her once. They couldn’t keep up their charade much longer.
The water mocked her in its stillness, even as the depths seemed to whisper, Eighteen days left.
A second dawn was nearly upon them when one of the men began singing an old sea shanty that cut off abruptly as a deep, world-ending scream pierced the night.
The crew rushed forward, searching the waters for the beast they’d all been waiting for, but Reya knew that scream, had heard it once before.
Only this time it was worse.
Reya was already running, vaulting down the stairs to their cabin, heart in her throat.
We’re too late.