Chapter Twenty-Four Before
THE RAIN RELENTED just before sunset and Cat marveled at the sight it left behind.
Impossible pinks and oranges bloomed across the sky, the light shimmering through the last scattering raindrops drifting from the distant storm.
It was too beautiful to witness behind glass windows.
Without regard for Valerian’s dismissal or Captain Morovant’s ship still anchored alongside the Covenant, she rushed out onto the main deck, skirts gathered in her hands so as not to let them trail over the still-slick planks.
She slowed as she walked to the rail, transfixed by the mystifying beauty around her.
The sea bled, mirroring the glow of the sun as it lit up the clouds.
The colors ran together like globs of paint, though there was no painter in all the world with such skill.
Not in the mansions and palaces of Continent or the studios of the great masters.
Cat could hardly blink, loath to miss even a heartbeat of the Lyrian sunset over Drowning Key.
Already she mourned its loss, its beauty barely held before it slipped through her fingers.
She leaned as far as she could over the rail, hands braced to hold herself in place. Though she would not have minded tipping into the golden sea.
Will it turn me golden too? Made of impossible beauty, fleeting but unforgettable?
She almost giggled, overcome by the desire to strip off her borrowed dress and dive into the water.
It would hardly be difficult. They were anchored in the shallows, the waves lapping gently at the hull, and she knew the water would still be warm despite the rain.
There was nothing cold in the Lyrian Sea, not truly.
Nothing but Ryman, she thought, the warmth replaced by the cloying sense of clammy hands on her body.
Reluctantly, she stood back from the rail, holding herself tightly, lest she lose all her restraint and dive headfirst into the waves.
“You should see the sky after a hurricane,” a low voice said.
She whirled to watch Valerian drop out of the rigging, his hands striped red from gripping the ropes.
His golden hair, usually loose, was pulled back into a knot, exposing curls at the nape of his neck.
He wore a belt of tools slung about his hips, his pistol discarded, but his knife still sheathed at his hip.
Worst of all was his shirt, or lack thereof.
Cat’s throat bobbed as she fought to keep her eyes on his face.
It was surprisingly difficult, the lines of his abdomen, hard muscle beneath tanned skin and golden hair, beckoning to her.
She had seen more of only one male body in her life—Ryman’s, and he looked like a fish belly in comparison.
Pale, shapeless, cold. Nothing compared to the carved figure in front of her, golden as the jewelry he wore.
Valerian was a pirate of the Lyrian Sea, lean and lethal, as far from her husband as another man could be.
Cat refused to blink, fearing her gaze might shift and betray her.
“If you’re going to send me back to my cabin, I beg you wait until the sun is down,” she replied.
He prowled towards her, his gait loping on the steady deck, compensating for the swell of nonexistent waves. His severity from the earlier meeting with Morovant seemed all but gone, his playful manner returning.
Her hand twitched on the rail, as if her fingers itched to walk the darkening road trailing from sternum to navel.
He angled his face, looking down at her. “And in exchange?”
“In exchange?” she said, rising to the challenge. “I’m already paying you a small fortune for my release, Captain Kane. I’m afraid I have little else to offer.”
A small fortune that does not exist and may send you to the gallows.
Valerian grinned and leaned alongside her, forearms flat on the rail. Up close, he smelled of salt and sweat, neither unpleasant. Cat glimpsed the inked stars that were not stars again, the black dots set at random. They would have looked like freckles at a passing glance.
“Save me another hand of Red River, and you may stay out on deck as long as you like,” he said.
Cat wrenched her eyes from his skin and looked back to the sunset, squinting against the brilliant glare. “I can agree to that.” She sighed. “I wonder if anyone else in the world beholds anything more beautiful at this exact moment.”
The pirate captain was silent for a long moment, unmoving. Cat felt the same, her very speech captured by the swiftly setting sun. And the heat rolling off the man next to her.
“It would be quite the contest to best a sight such as this,” he finally said, his voice rough and low.
She could not help but turn to find Valerian already staring at her. His eyes caught the sun, turning tempest green to shimmering gold. It made Cat’s heart feel like a struck match, igniting in her chest.
“I can understand why so many men believe in gods,” Cat said, looking away again in hopes he did not see the flush creeping across her cheeks. “What else could make such a sky?”
He made a humming sound, like a man balancing an equation. “Some might say moisture in the air. The right angle of the clouds. Our position, the time of year.”
Cat laughed outright. “And what do you say, Valerian Kane?”
“I know no god but the Lyrian Sea,” the captain offered, without any mirth or jest. But filled with resolve. “And she is quite the artist.”
To that, there could be no argument. Cat returned to her viewing, content to watch the sky shift in color and depth, worlds upon worlds layered overhead. Everything seemed to hold its breath, even the gulls in the sky going quiet.
But for the crew of the Covenant still diligent and dutiful in their endless tasks.
“You should let the crew pause their work to watch,” Cat said. Nearby, Ratter the cabin boy hauled buckets below.
Valerian turned back to the horizon, staring at the inscrutable point where sky met sea. “This is hardly the first sunset they’ve ever seen.”
She blanched. “You’re saying this is normal?”
“Above average.” He shrugged, winking at her. It felt like being teased, but not unpleasantly. “And nothing compared to the stars.”
“Ah,” she replied, unable to stop herself from glancing at his forearm again. The black stars—islands, not stars—stood out sharply against the lines of muscle and pearly scars. “I shall be sure to check when night falls.”
His crooked grin flashed. “On second thought, perhaps I should confine you to your cabin again. Can’t have you robbing the rest of my crew.”
Cat bit her lip to hide a smile, quietly proud of herself and her skills at the card table. But it was not like a lady to gloat.
“Winning isn’t robbery,” she said neatly. Then she remembered herself, and the ship she stood upon. What it did, what it would continue to do. Her tone sharpened. “Besides, I don’t think it’s stealing if you steal from a thief.”
The harsher tone snapped something in Valerian, and he straightened up, pushing back from the gunwale.
“I shall keep that in mind,” he said, his smile gone. Then he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Watch the horizon. If you see a green flash, then you’ll know for certain.”
Cat blinked, the bright spots of the sun still blooming behind her eyes. “Know what?”
When her vision cleared, Valerian was a few feet away. But he walked backwards, his attention still fixed on her. Again, his tempest eyes caught the light, filling with gold.
“That this exact moment is the most beautiful in all the world.”
Cat did not know what it felt like to be struck by lightning, but she imagined it felt a little like this. Something buzzed beneath her skin, and she half expected thunder to crack overhead, splitting the paintbrush sky.
Valerian did not linger. With a nod, he retreated across the deck to climb up the mainmast with shocking ease. His long arms passed hand over hand, the muscles in his back rippling as he hauled himself up into the sails.
For a moment, Cat forgot the brilliant sunset, following the silhouette of the captain instead.
Then his figure disappeared into the crow’s nest and the buzzing sensation faded, sending Cat crashing back to reality.
She swallowed hard and turned into the soft breeze, looking back to the horizon where the golden circle of the sun distorted, wavering as it began to sink beneath the waves.
Despite the glare, she watched every waning moment, a shallow breath caught in her chest.
She exhaled at the briefest glimmer of green.
* * *
THE LANTERN LIGHT of the two anchored ships rippled over the black waters of Drowning Key.
Cat curled against the window, tucked into the corner of the gallery, watching the orange flickers through thick glass.
She was reminded of Brycam City, its many buildings lit up from within, windows burning against a night sky with no stars.
But she had only been in the city for a few days, the memory fleeting, swallowed up by her journey to the Meridian coast. To the Credence.
And then the Lyrian Sea.
She turned her head, cheek pressed against the cooling glass. It felt good, her skin still hot from the glowing rays of sunset. Or so she told herself. Deep down she knew it was not her skin burning, but something deeper.
Was your night torture, Lady Rose?
Valerian’s voice snaked around her, rasping and rough in her memory.
The burn in her skin became an open flame, threatening to devour.
Cat wished for snow, for ice, for the plunging waters of a Meridian lake—something cold enough to quench the heat within her.
On Rosby, she could at least submerge herself in the bath tucked away in the kitchen.
But on this ship, there was no escape. And somehow the night seemed hotter than the day, shadows burning across the cabin.
A thump at the door made her jump, and Cat leapt up from the corner, her nerves on end. She opened her mouth to speak, some small part of her hoping for a low voice to answer on the other side.