Chapter 45
The lantern swayed, throwing shadows along the cabin’s walls in time with the ship’s rocking.
Richard had pulled the chair close to the bunk and settled himself into it with his cloak draped over his knees.
Kaelen lay flat on the bed, an arm flung above his head and the other resting over his stomach.
It’d been hours—with midnight likely past them—but his face was still peaky and grey.
With his fringe damp across his forehead, he looked utterly miserable.
“Drink.” Richard pressed the water flask into Kaelen’s hand. “Tomorrow, you must ensure you eat.”
Kaelen tilted the flask to his lips. After a swallow, he groaned. “I doubt I shall manage food. The very thought of it—”
“Try, regardless.”
Another groan. Kaelen peered at Richard from beneath heavy lids. “I have heard, you know, of sailors taken ill by the swell. I never thought it would affect me.” Indignation crept into his words. “I am a knight. I have endured all manner of hardships—”
“None of that has any bearing on what a ship does to a stomach.” Richard’s mouth quirked. “The sea, I am afraid, has no respect for your rank or training.”
Kaelen huffed and let his head loll against the pillow. The lantern caught the sweaty sheen on his brow.
“It has been a long day,” Richard said. “The burning. Then Alaric, of all people. Then what occurred above deck. It is no wonder you are shaken.”
Far below the hull came a muffled thud that made Kaelen stiffen, but as the quiet persisted, he relaxed again with a sigh.
“You must think me soft,” he murmured. “I would have killed him. Marek, I mean. Once his crime was revealed, I would have given him a chance to speak, then dealt out my judgement and struck him down. That much I can do. That much I have done.” His jaw tightened.
“But Flint enjoyed it. Tied him up all day and forced him to teach us. Let him hope, let him beg, and let him think he would see his shore again, and killed him with a smile. That is sport.” He shuddered.
“That is a dark path, and he walks it gladly.”
Richard retrieved the water flask and fastened its cap.
“He was raised in a terrible place that hurt him and those he loves. He has built his life on the certainty that men like Marek do not deserve to keep theirs. I venture he smiles as he kills because every blood spilt pays a small part of an old debt.”
“And does that make it just?”
“No, but it was not without cause.”
Kaelen closed his eyes. “It is still a dark road.”
“Yes.” Richard hesitated. “There may come a day when you yourself are required to walk it. Not Flint’s road precisely.
But the harder one, where ugly choices must be made.
” He gazed at the gold-threaded blanket over Kaelen’s legs.
The shade reminded him of his father’s hair.
“After my parents died, I led the party that captured the trolls that remained in Maranbog. I tortured one for answers—I sawed off his tusks and cut behind his joints until he confessed Marius had hired them all.”
Kaelen’s eyes were open again, fixed upon him.
“I did not enjoy it,” Richard said. “But when you say Flint walks a dark road, in truth, it is not so different from one I have walked myself.”
Kaelen gingerly eased himself onto an elbow.
“That is not the same. You are kind. It is the very nature of you. You perform against it sometimes for the sake of the realm. It comes at a cost, so being, I do not wish you to stray further down that road.” His eyes narrowed.
“But for a man like Flint, cruelty and vengeance are enjoyments he has grown accustomed to. He is dangerous, and you ought to have care.”
Richard chewed on his lip, unsure of how to reply. Somewhere above, Flint was humming another shanty.
“You are too harsh on him,” Richard said at last. “But tonight has reminded me that Flint is not a predictable companion. I shall be careful.”
Kaelen nodded. Colour was beginning to return to his cheeks.
Richard’s hand drifted to the inside of his jacket. The sun locket was still warm where it had sat against his chest the whole day. He had nearly forgotten it.
Perhaps it would brighten Kaelen up.
Richard drew it out. The silver chain pooled into his palm, and the gold disc gleamed in the lantern’s light.
“I—” Richard cleared his throat. “I had meant to give you this earlier. It is—well—a birthday gift. Belated, I suppose.”
Kaelen lifted his head. When he saw what Richard was holding, the rest of him followed—springing upright with a gasp that morphed into a wince as the ship lurched again.
“Oh—oh no, you did not—” He gaped, eyes huge. “You did not have to—Richard, no, this is—”
“Hush. It is yours.” Richard tipped the chain into Kaelen’s open palms. “It…it is the sun because—” He bit back the words ‘because you shine so’. “Well, it is Ardenia’s crest, and it seemed fitting as a—a token of the realm.”
Kaelen turned the locket over, his eyes suspiciously wet.
“It is the loveliest thing I have ever held in my hands,” he whispered. “The loveliest gift in all the Seven Realms. I shall not ever take it off. Not for the rest of my life.”
Richard blinked. “That is a rather long commitment for a chain.”
“I shall be buried in it,” Kaelen said with utter solemnity.
Richard chuckled. “Now, you are being plain absurd.”
Kaelen hesitated and, with a quick peek up at him, blushed. “Would you—” He coughed. “Would you put it on me?”
Richard’s breath hitched. “I—yes. Of course.”
As Kaelen bowed his head, Richard rose halfway from the chair. He leaned in close enough to see the small scar at Kaelen’s hairline. Close enough that when he reached to fasten the clasp behind, his cheek grazed Kaelen’s temple, and he felt the warmth of Kaelen’s breath against his neck.
The clasp clicked. Richard retreated into the chair and smiled. The sun hung at the hollow of Kaelen’s throat, nestled in the dip between his collarbones. The engraved sunrays glittered, hinting at the message concealed within the locket—safe until the day Kaelen discovered how to open it.
“It suits you,” Richard said.
Kaelen caressed it and smiled back, cheeks dimpling. “I shall think of you whenever I feel it.”
Heat surged through Richard’s face. That seemed all too intimate a thing to say. Perhaps it was how Kaelen spoke to all his gift givers?
“We should sleep now.” Richard glanced at the circular window opposite that revealed only blackness. “At dawn we sail on, and whatever it is that guards Singers’ Teeth, we shall meet it.”
Kaelen beamed and sank against the pillow. “Very well. Goodnight, Richard.”
He had said the name with an easy fondness, and Richard found himself smiling.
“Goodnight, Kaelen.”
* * *
The skies the next day stretched clear and blue, with calm waves that Richard prayed would hold.
Flint appeared in high spirits. He lounged at the helm, whistling and singing.
He had his hair tied back, wore a skin-tight vest, and grinned even as blood still stained the planks at the starboard rail.
Richard concentrated on managing the ship.
Throughout the day, he oversaw the sail and lines.
Flint coiled the rope and kept their weapons nearby.
Despite his nausea, Kaelen took charge of the chart and bearings.
He stood by the binnacle, lifting his gaze from compass to horizon and back again, muttering under his breath.
Every so often, the ship would lurch, and his mouth would tighten, but with the wind ruffling through his hair and the sun streaking his brown skin, he looked very fine, and Richard caught himself staring more than once.
By noon, the ship had settled into a smooth trajectory, and they took lunch on deck, sitting in a triangle near the mainmast. Flint ate a strip of salted fish, while Kaelen managed half a slice of bread.
The sea around them sparkled in endless folds of blue and emerald.
Every so often, a shoal of tiny fish leapt from the waters, and far above, the gulls wheeled and cried.
Gazing over it all, Richard understood what Seola meant when she once told him the sea’s beauty had no rival.
Flint took out an apple, sprawled against the mast.
“Well, now,” he drawled. “The youngest of our crew has a new bauble.”
Kaelen, who’d been absently fiddling with the locket, curled his hand over it. “I shall not let you steal it.”
Flint scoffed. “I only steal things of value. That’d fetch me no more than two silvers at the market.” He squinted at Richard. “How much did you give for it?”
Richard busied himself with peeling a boiled egg.
“Well?” Flint nudged at Richard’s knee with his foot, ignoring Kaelen’s splutter.
“Six gold pieces,” Richard muttered.
Flint’s jaw dropped. “Six gold pieces?” He threw his head back in a roar of laughter. “Six? Whoever sold it to you must have thanked all their gods!”
“She said there is only one of the like. And she provided service on the house.” Richard’s scowl deepened as Flint continued to chortle. “Had you not left me, you could have helped me haggle.”
Flint snorted. “Aye, I’d only have needed to flash her my large cock to coax her price down. Especially for a cheap trinket like that.”
“Well, I think it beautiful.” Kaelen bristled. “And would you stop speaking of your ‘large’ cock. You mention it so often one begins to wonder whether you are hiding some insecurity.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, it is not insecurity. Flint’s length truly is of a sizeable nature.”
The words were out of his mouth before his mind had quite caught up with his tongue. As two heads jerked towards him—Flint with waggling brows and a wicked grin, and Kaelen with his bulging eyes—Richard felt a sudden urge to fling himself into the sea.
“Of sizeable nature,” Kaelen said lowly. “Is he indeed?”
“Is he indeed?” Flint echoed, looking delighted.
“And how, pray”—Kaelen stomped to his feet, squaring his shoulders—”came you by such knowledge?”
“I—” Richard gawked up at Kaelen, then at Flint. “I—I saw it in a dream.”
It was the truth. The dream he’d had at Vale’s manor all those months ago, when Galdran had dressed in Flint’s naked body.
“A dream,” Kaelen repeated flatly. He levelled a glare at Flint, seeming ready to throw the man overboard.
Flint winked at Richard. “Well now, handsome. Dreaming of my cock, are you?”
“It was not—it was not in that fashion—” Richard sprang to his feet and pointed east. “Look! The—the horizon has, um, changed. We—we should check whether we still hold the correct bearing. Kaelen?”
Kaelen shifted his glare to Richard, before grumbling an assent, and heading to the ship’s wheel. Flint stretched his arms and sniggered.
“By the gods, handsome, you do make me laugh.”
“Oh, quiet, you.”
* * *
The sun had begun to set when Singers’ Teeth came into view. Richard watched the smudge on the horizon sharpen. Jagged cliffs soared from the water, white surf breaking at their feet. Further inland, there was greenery, tall trees forming a forest.
Richard stayed close to Kaelen by the wheel. They’d all plugged their ears with beeswax an hour earlier, but uneasiness rankled him. What if the siren was what guarded the isle? What if the siren could scale the ship’s walls and attack them head-on? What if the siren’s song killed immediately?
Eight-legged, the Nightbourne Queen had said. It had to be a creature of some size. A large arachnid, perhaps.
Flint is powerful, Richard reminded himself, watching the bandit sling an arm over Kaelen’s shoulder. They needed only to summon the Tower to squash the siren flat. Should the ship sustain damage, they had a rowboat.
Kaelen shrugged off Flint’s arm and made a crude gesture. Flint grinned in reply and mussed his hair.
Richard clicked his fingers between them and glowered. He mimed with his lips, “Focus—”
A single high note reverberated through the earplugs, so pure and clean that Richard mistook it for the wind whistling. But soon, what had begun as one voice unfolded into a weave of voices, rising and falling in a haunting tune.
Richard cocked his head, removing the useless earplugs. The song echoed all around him, sweet and yet sorrowful, akin to the lullabies his mother had once sung to him.
Beautiful. And it seemed harmless thus far—
Richard stiffened.
Flint’s head was tipped back, and his eyes were glassy. Kaelen was no better. He had let go of the wheel, and hunger etched his face. Both men had already fished out their earplugs.
“Oh,” Kaelen breathed. “Oh, that is—that is the sweetest—”
“Kaelen.”
“—the most beautiful voice, Richard, can you not hear it? She is calling. She is calling me—”
“Me too.” Flint meandered towards the starboard rail. “I must see her face. I must taste her lips.” He let out a low moan. “By the gods, I must touch her skin.”
Kaelen chased after him, and a shiver ran up Richard’s spine.
“Stop.” He lunged for Kaelen’s arm. “Listen to me—”
With a twist of the wrist, Kaelen peeled Richard’s grip from his sleeve and jolted him aside. By the time Richard recovered his footing, Kaelen had reached the rail.
The song swelled, a harmony now of discordant chords, carrying a desperation and longing so profound that it set Richard’s teeth on edge.
He ran to Kaelen and Flint—Kaelen beaming at whatever he saw in the waters, and Flint breathing hard and trying to tear off his vest. On reaching them, Richard seized the backs of their clothes. He looked down, and his eyes widened.
She floated some six feet below, her long red hair fanned out about her, drifting on the currents. Her skin was pearl-white, her breasts bare, and through the clear waters, Richard spotted a tail of emerald scales. As Richard stared, she held out her hand with a smile.
“Oh,” Kaelen moaned at Richard’s shoulder. “Oh, she wants me—”
“Lovely thing,” Flint crooned. “Lovely, lovely thing. I shall join you, sweetheart—”
Her smile lengthened, and the song rose another octave, splitting into a chord that pierced through Richard’s eardrums. He yanked Kaelen and Flint back just as their boots hooked over the rail’s lower rung.
They went down in a tangle. Richard hurried to straddle Kaelen and grab his collar.
“Kaelen. Look at me!”
But there was no recognition in Kaelen’s gaze. His pupils had almost entirely swallowed the brown of his eyes. Richard slapped him hard, but Kaelen’s smile did not even flicker.
“She is waiting,” Kaelen said dreamily. “Richard. Richard, she is waiting—”
“There is nothing waiting but your death, you fool—” Richard slapped him again. “Wake up!”
Kaelen switched their positions in a single roll, slamming Richard onto his back.
The breath punched out of Richard, and his skull cracked against the deck, sending sparks of pain through his skull and black spots across his vision.
Kaelen’s weight pinned him for a heartbeat, and then, he was rising again, heading to the rail.
Flint was already there, a boot upon the lowest rung.
Richard scrambled to his feet, head throbbing. Think. Think!
His panic subsided on spotting the coil of rope nearby.
It would have to do.