9. Stunningly Flawless and Far, Far Away #2
His fingertips brushed the ornate handle of the malachite blade at his thigh, lingering there while he chose his next words carefully.
“I don’t think so,” he said evenly. He took a few moments before continuing.
“Not that it happens often, but they rarely waste resources on runaway Sideri unless the missing have…something they want.”
“Like what would they…” It clicked. “Oh, a powerful ember.” I paused at the thought. “And I have nothing they would want.”
I should’ve been relieved that I didn’t have to fear capture, and I was, but something still stung. Somewhere deep inside, I desperately wanted to have value. I wanted to be wanted. But I wasn't even worth chasing.
He watched the emotions flicker across my face, but said nothing. I didn’t want to expose the wound so that he could give me empty reassurances. Or worse, and more likely, the harsh truth about how little I was worth. I already knew where I stood and quickly changed the subject.
“Where are we going?”
A glimpse of relief seemed to flash across his features. “Inframare.”
That was the farthest island on the other side of the Gulf of Nox. “Wouldn’t it be easier to head south, across the Strait?”
“We have to head into the gulf as far as we can before crossing. The open sea beyond the gulf is too dangerous.”
“Too rough for our little boat,” I mused, patting the gunwale. “Our charming, petite, probably going-to-sink boat.”
“Not what I meant.” His face grew serious. “There have been… sea serpent sightings and quite a few unfortunate incidents in the past few moon cycles in the open sea between Trilatera and Inframare. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
I glanced back at the water lapping against the hull. It seemed so much darker and deeper than it had a few minutes ago. Sea serpents…
Shaking off the shiver that traveled down my spine, I cleared my throat. “Why Inframare?”
He took a deep breath, annoyed with my questions, but answered anyway. “They have an airship port. We’re catching one to Tutella, the village right outside of Tenebris Forest.”
“Weren’t there airships leaving Trilatera?”
“Yes, but Koel would have an easier time tracking us. When he figures out we got on a boat,” he shrugged, “which he will, it will take him some time to figure out our destination.”
Which is why we didn’t purchase passage on a larger vessel. Our boat could take us anywhere. “We could have left in several ways. How would he figure out it was on a boat?”
“I had little time to vet a trustworthy source for the purchase. They’ll give me up. And unfortunately, there are only so many places we can sail to in such a small vessel.”
I nodded my understanding. “How do you know Koel?”
His entire body went still. Not tense, but vacant, like a door had just slammed shut behind his eyes. “No more questions.”
I blinked. “What? That’s it?”
His face morphed into that flinty, unreadable expression he used so often.
To the abyss with that. “So that’s where the line is? Anything about you.”
His gaze snapped into a glare. “There’s nothing you need to know about me.”
“So,” I ticked off the items on my fingers in irritation.
“I know your name, that you’re Sideri, and where you’re headed.
My gods,” I continued, my words wobbling slightly and rattling with exhaustion, “how can I possibly keep track of all that information? I might need to take notes. Do you have parchment? A quill, perhaps?” The words came out sharper than I meant them to.
I knew I was two breaths away from unraveling entirely. But I was beyond caring.
“Apparently, that was more than I should’ve told you.”
“As if. I had to figure out you were Sideri on my own!”
“Good for you!” he snapped. “Would you like an award for such an astounding deduction?” The words were spoken through clenched teeth.
“I’m not keeping score. But I’m done pretending this is a conversation.”
His fingers flexed against the rudder.
“I’m walking into danger with you, and I don’t even know who you are!”
That did it.
A wild flash of fury swept across his features, throwing the jagged scar through his right brow into sharp relief.
“You don’t get to know me!” he roared. His fist slammed into the railing next to where he sat.
I flinched as the wood snapped with a sharp crack, a chunk whipping past me and skittering into the water.
His shoulders broadened as he leaned toward me, his voice dipping to a dangerous rasp. “I don’t owe you a single sky-damned truth. Not one. I owe you nothing but passage to Tenebris Forest. I will not sit here and let you claw at every wound and pick apart my history like it’s some fireside story.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s not—”
“I don’t care about your curiosity. Your feelings. I don’t care about you.”
The words felt like a slap. My breath caught in my throat. And he wasn’t done.
“So shut your mouth and stop pretending you want conversation when what you really want is to pry me open and rummage through the pieces.”
He turned away sharply as if he were afraid of what else might come out of his mouth.
The sudden silence was stifling, even with the steady, rhythmic sound of water lapping against the hull. My eyes found the unknowable void of deep darkness that surrounded us and struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. Anything to avoid looking in his direction.
Well. That went splendidly. Perhaps I should add ‘enraging surly boat captains’ to my growing list of skills. I blinked rapidly against the sudden burning in my eyes and looked up to keep them at bay.
The moon, half illuminated, peeked out of the thick layer of dense, swirling clouds again.
Tonight the moon wasn’t full, but it was still so very beautiful.
The silver glow pierced the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the clouds as they drifted lazily across the sky.
Envy sparkled across my skin, along with the moonlight reflecting off the tips of restless waves in the inky black sea.
It didn’t have to be whole to be beautiful—to be enough.
Suddenly, I wanted to be the moon.
Stunningly flawless and far, far away.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll take the compass for a while. Get some rest.” It was stated without malice, but he made it clear that there would be no arguing. Either way, it was probably a good idea.
I handed him the compass without making eye contact. My fingers brushed his palm for a split second before I pulled away. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word.
I scanned the boat, searching for a place to lie down. Sliding off the bench, I curled up against it on the decking with my back to him.
When I shut my eyes, it felt as though I blocked out more than just the meager light.
I was blocking out everything. The fact that I was in a small boat in the middle of the ocean instead of in my bed.
That I was on the run, an outcast in a kingdom that didn’t believe my kind still existed.
That I’d entrusted my life to a man who made it clear I was no more than an inconvenience.
And, worst of all, the fact that my complete incompetence now extended to basic life skills instead of just being a mere Sideri defect.
I squeezed my eyes tighter to block out my new reality.
The burning behind my eyelids was evidence that a breakdown was coming if I didn’t do something fast. Locking it all down, I took a breath and emptied my mind.
Only the creaking of the hull and the rhythmic sway of the boat could exist for me in that moment.
Only the here. Only the now. It was in one of those in-the-present moments that the boat rocked me into a slumber.
It seemed like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when I felt something knock into the hull close to where my head rested on the floor between the benches.
The overcast sky above was a muted, hazy, dark blue.
I knew from my hours spent watching the sky in the library that dawn approached.
I slept longer than I’d thought. There was another thud against the hull.
I sat up to see over the gunwale. Splintered boards and various other debris floated in the surrounding water.
“What’s all that?”
“Wreckage.”
My stomach plummeted, and I snapped my head toward him. “Wreckage from what?”
“How would I know?” His tone was still clipped, still distant. But I caught the crease of concern on his forehead as he steered away from the debris.
“We should get closer to the coast. The fog’s lifted enough now, so we’ll see it again soon,” he said, handing me back the compass without making eye contact. “May need to adjust our heading a bit.”
I took it carefully, making sure my fingers didn’t touch him this time, and checked our bearing. The needle, dancing with the boat’s movement, indicated southwest. A larger piece of debris, possibly the ship’s railing, drifted into our path.
“Hold on,” he warned, pulling hard on the rudder.
The boat lurched sideways. Suddenly, a grinding shriek vibrated through the floorboards as the wreckage scraped along the hull. The impact threw me forward off the bench.
The compass—my one responsibility—flew from my grasp.
If your incompetence becomes a liability…
Time slowed as it spun through the air, arcing toward the water. Its brass chain glittered in the hazy gray light.
It was going over the side.
Into the dark, unknown depths that would swallow it forever.