Then a thought occurs to me.
What better way to put Kearan back in his place than to show him he has no effect on me? To remind him I’m the one in charge?
Besides, if Kearan does anything I don’t like, I can always stick him with a knife.
The man in question widens his eyes in surprise when he sees me draw near. And as I step beside him, his words from last night come to me.
Captain, stop flattering yourself.
I cannot remember the last time in my life I felt embarrassed, yet Kearan managed it with just a few words. I should have listened to Alosa when she said he’d changed. Then I wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation.
Even as these thoughts flit through my mind, I keep my face as smooth as sea glass.
“The crew doesn’t need me hovering over them,” I say to the man by way of explanation. “This is the most useful place for me to be until it is my turn to row.”
“You’re the captain,” he says. “You won’t take a turn rowing.”
“Yes, I will.”
“You don’t have to feel guilty. Your job is the hardest one on the ship.”
“Don’t try to sympathize with me, Kearan.”
Vengeance sweeps across the sea, the motion more lurching than when the power of the wind propelled us onward, but progress is better than no progress.
Kearan says, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”
“I’m not in a bad mood.”
“Was it something I said last night?”
“No.”
He cranes his neck fully in my direction, but I stare straight ahead. “You aren’t embarrassed, are you?”
Despite myself, I blink slowly, still saying nothing.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, So—Captain. Like I said, I only want things to be easy between us so we can do this mission.”
“Stop talking, and things will be just fine between us.” Somehow I manage to keep my tone even, but I feel my cheeks heating. Luckily, my complexion is too dark for even Kearan to notice.
He stares down at the helm, and I take the chance to let my eyes shift to him. He’s not wearing his usual coat today. Without the breeze, the weather has grown rather warm. Kearan’s rolled his shirtsleeves up past his elbows, and I see a series of tattoos along the length of his right arm.
I had no idea he had those.
I trace the designs with my eyes, following the shape of a skull, an ocean wave, some sort of flower, a replica of his cutlass, a helm. Random geometric lines connect everything, mere scraps of his light skin visible between designs.
“Been working on it since I was fourteen,” he says, and I nearly take a step back from the shock of his voice. I’d forgotten those shapes were attached to a living, breathing, horrible human being.
“I don’t care,” I say.
“Sure. That’s why you were staring.”
“I was observing, not staring.”
“Are you embarrassed again?”
I press my lips into a tight line, unable to think of a response that would help the situation.
“It’s okay to ask questions, you know,” he says. “You don’t have to learn everything about people by spying on them.”
“People can lie when they can speak.”
His brow shoots up. “Damn. What happened to make you so dark?”
The question has my eyes drifting closed, a black so potent it could swallow me whole filling my vision. I hear the sounds of splashing water, of screaming.
Hide, Sora, hide!
I force the memories to the corners of my mind, where they belong. Yet I see red when I open my eyes again.
“I love being on the sea,” Kearan says, his eyes fixed on the ocean before him once more. “I love it so much, I wanted to mark my adventures on my skin.” He points to his arm. “I got the helm after the first time I was allowed to steer a ship. I realized I loved it and didn’t want to do anything else.” His finger moves to the sword. “When the captain gifted me my cutlass.” The skull. “The first time I killed a man.”
On and on he goes, detailing out his adventures, until he runs out of tattoos. When he starts to push up his sleeve higher, I stop him.
“I’ve heard enough,” I say.
“You sure? Seemed like you went somewhere else for a moment. You need more grounding?”
In all the time I’ve spent with Kearan, it hasn’t really been his pursuit of me that’s angered me the most. It’s the way he sees me better than everyone else—even when he was drunk. I try so hard to hide those parts of me, but somehow, he sees them.
It’s beyond infuriating. If he weren’t a member of Alosa’s crew, he’d already be dead.
“If you love the sea,” I say, “then why did you try to forget it by overindulging?”
His face falls, and he rubs idly at a spot on his arm. As he does so, his sleeve rides up, showing what I’m certain is the corner of a heart.
He doesn’t answer.
And just like I did before, he seems to drift somewhere else.
The ship slips off course ever so slightly, and I rack my brain for anything to say. I want to call his name. To yell at him. But I know exactly what loud surprises do to a person when their mind is in a dark place.
“Would you like a proper look at the new rapier Alosa gave me?” I ask. I draw my sword and hold it up to the light. The sun catches on the glittering gems, making the guard almost blinding.
“I’ve always favored the rapier, because of its speed,” I continue. “Also, it’s what my father carried as a nobleman. I like that it reminds me of him.”
Kearan’s eyes shift back into focus, and he slides his gaze to the weapon.
“Were you so eager to replace your old weapon?” he asks.
“It was starting to feel … heavy.”
“Because of all the blood it spilled?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like it? Killing, that is.”
“Don’t we all enjoy the things we’re good at?”
“Often. But not always. I’m good at rowing. Doesn’t mean I love doing it. But I’ll take my turn like everyone else.”
I look down at the rowers below. Enwen’s face has turned red, but he keeps on like the rest of them. They must be nearing the end of their shift.
“I love killing,” I say. It’s the only thing I love. Sharing that moment with Samvin Carroter over and over again. The taste of revenge on my tongue. The sight of his face when he knew it was me ending it.
Kearan says, “I love hunting. Does that count?”
“Count?”
“As killing.”
What an absurd question. “Animals.”
“Well, yes.”
My eyes narrow. “Are you trying to find a common interest with me?”
He smirks. “Captain, you’re doing it again. Stop flattering yourself.”
Chapter 6
WHEN I ORDER DIMELLA to add me to the next rotation of rowers, she doesn’t question the order. She never questions my orders, which is why I like her.
I sit at the backmost bench so I can see all the rowers ahead of me. I don’t like the exposure of sitting in the middle of the ship, but there’s nothing for it. I want this. I need this. Enwen offers me his gloves, and I take them, despite them being far too big. I shrug out of my captain’s coat and lay it under my bench.