Chapter Thirteen
PEDR
The smell of rosewater filled Pedr’s head.
Mila had barely cracked the vial open once they returned, but it was enough to flood him with the powerful plumeria.
He wouldn’t scrub it out of his mind. Forever, that smell would be tied to Mila.
He’d never forget the feel and shape of her against his chest. The way her breath rose and fell so slowly, but steadily.
Whatever the bottle contained, it wasn’t arcane. He knew that much. Somehow, he could sense the lack of pull that existed in things not arcane. With the sea constantly surrounding him, and the arcane quietly present, his comprehension had taken a sharp turn into wild territories.
His tie to the ocean arcane hummed in the back of his mind, more powerful than he’d admit to himself.
He had no idea what to think of this new life, nor any idea how to stave off the overwhelm.
No idea what it meant that he’d lost his soul, but gained the arcane. He no longer had a claim on humanity.
But he could hold Mila.
And that made sense.
Rosenvatten, he thought. It would make a fair ship name. He added name the ship to his long mental list, right next to figure out how to command the sails without a bo’sun and scrounge up food for Mila. She had plenty of fruit at their last stop, but he’d only brought enough aboard for a few weeks.
Now there was a list he never imagined making.
He chuckled to himself as he scooped Mila into his arms, carefully carried her to his cabin, and laid her on his berth. Mila curled around his pillow under the window, settled into dreams. He watched her, something protective rising in him at the sight of her curls splayed across the sheets.
He slipped across the room, running a hand over his face. Shite. He braced himself for regret or terror over kissing her so thoroughly, and for so long. For unanswerable questions about his sanity. He conjured no regret, except for wasting days to kiss her.
After they returned from Krackalack island, Mila chose to go to the furthest locale next, along the most difficult route, simply to have somewhere to go.
He told her yes, because Kapurnick would be a short day’s jaunt away from her destination, Narpurra, known for pirates and lowlifes.
Not that it mattered. Like him, she didn’t care about landing, but everything else in between.
He tortured himself with memories of her kiss, her wilting muscles, breathy gasps.
In between, he discovered himself waiting for the urge to sleep.
Before, fatigue and exhaustion might lurk around the top of every hour.
At midnight, he’d feel bleary. At one, he’d feel exhausted.
The stretched-out feeling, the sandpaper eyes, never arrived.
Never tired, he thought ruefully.
How annoying.
Years ago, he would have given almost anything for the ability to stay up all night.
Now that it arrived, he missed the opportunity to check out.
To go elsewhere. To replenish without his mind spinning, spinning, spinning.
The sheer amount of rumination in a never-ending day was a staggering torture.
He was the Arcanist that commanded the sea arcane.
Couldn’t he control his thoughts?
“Apparently not,” he muttered.
Shaking his head, Pedr left the cabin, took the stairs two at a time, and stood in the moonlight. The wheel beckoned him, but he ignored it.
Never, in all his wild adventures, could he have pictured himself here. An orphan, a former slave, a Captain, and an Arcanist with a woman in his cabin and the pungent scent of roses in his nose.
The slap of a wave hitting the hull startled him from his thoughts.
Pedr glanced up to find choppy waters rocking the ship.
He frowned, tension in his arms, and wondered.
With a few intentional, swelling, and unnecessary breaths, Mila’s scent cleared from his head and he noted something different in the air. His thoughts turned, and he remembered.
Himmel.
She whispered in the wind. Pedr?
He looked skyward, seeing the same stars. Of course. He couldn’t see the wind, only feel it.
“Yes?”
I heard your conversation earlier, with Mila.
His stomach tightened at the thought, as if he prepared for a punch.
“You eavesdrop?”
Her voice bristled a little. One cannot help it when one is the sky. You will learn.
Amused, he waved a hand.
“Go on.”
I guided her when she first embarked. I’m the reason she escaped her aunts.
“You did?”
Yes. I have . . . a soft spot for women in need. I want her to be safe. She is . . . Himmel trailed away. She is special, Pedr.
“I’ve noticed.”
I can buy you time.
He longed to beg Himmel to reveal everything she knew, but it would betray Mila. Mila wanted to hide information? That was fine. He wasn’t ready to impart his secrets either. Two broken souls needed mending, and mending required time. He’d give her as much as she wanted.
“How long?”
Weeks, at most.
“How?”
A playful wind gust zipped over his head, stirring his hair. The ship remained unaffected, which spoke to Himmel’s intricate control.
That is for me to know. Do you want my help?
He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you. I will do whatever I can for you in the future.”
I will do what I can. Repayment isn’t necessary. We will be great friends one day, Pedr.
“Himmel, wait. Is . . . is she safe?”
After a long pause, Himmel said, With you, for now, yes. Not forever. You would be a fool to let her go, but I would also respect your decision if you do. There is heartache, and then there is asking for heartache.
He hid a grimace. In some logical purviews, it would be foolish to invest time, affection, and care into Mila knowing she might leave for reasons outside of his knowledge.
But when did he follow logic? He couldn’t care less what was wise.
The thought of losing Mila sent his stomach into knots.
He’d never endure this harrowing silence without her smile, her soft touch, her softer words. Life without Mila?
It made no sense.
“Keep her with me, Himmel,” he murmured.
Her final response rang through the night.
For as long as I can.