What I hadn’t taken under consideration was the clear line of sight this position gives me to Kearan up at the helm. So I stare at the back of Bayla, as she sits in front of me.
“Heave,” Dimella bellows, and I push the oar through the water, moving the ship forward. “Heave. Heave. Heave.”
Taydyn is giving his voice and fingers a rest, so there is nothing to distract the crew from the tedium of rowing. Nothing but talking.
“When do you think Vengeance will see her first fight?” Philoria asks.
“Hopefully soon,” Bayla answers. “Those cannons are looking a little too clean.”
Philoria takes a big draw of air through her nose. “I miss the smell of gunpowder.”
“I can see the soot in your hair,” I say. “You’ve been getting into the powder with Visylla, haven’t you?”
“Guilty.” She sings the word.
“It’s not the same as when we get to light it, though, Captain,” Bayla says. “We need a proper sea battle.”
“All in good time,” I say. “You two are going to get your fight. It’s inevitable where we’re going.” I would tell them not to be so eager, but that would be hypocritical. I’m itching for a fight myself.
“I certainly don’t mind having less work,” Iskirra says from where she’s working at her own oar.
“Liar,” Bayla says. “You miss having wounds to patch up. Admit it.”
“Heave.”
I’m out of practice at the oars. It doesn’t take long at all before my muscles start to ache, but I will do my part like everyone else. Ignoring pain is almost second nature to me.
“Heave.”
After spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, I watch Roslyn scurry down the line from the crow’s nest, faster than should be possible for anyone. That girl’s part monkey.
She crosses to us on bare feet and sits, letting her ankles dangle in the area where the rowers labor.
“Captain,” Roslyn says. “I’ve been thinking.”
“You’re getting dropped off at Darmont, and that’s the end of it,” I say.
“But what if you can’t find me on the ship? Or what if I climbed back aboard after you dropped me into a rowboat? Alosa can’t very well blame you if—”
“I’ll not make myself look incompetent or complicit in your schemes, Roslyn.”
“I don’t know what complicit means, but no one would ever think you incompetent.”
“Exactly. The answer is no.”
“But, Sorinda—”
“No.”
“I could help row! I could serve food in the kitchens. I’ll take night watches. Whatever you want. Please, I’ll do any task on the ship if you please, please don’t drop me off.”
“If you bring this up again, you’re bound for the brig. You understand?”
She huffs. “What about assassin lessons? Have you given more thought to—”
“The answer is still no.”
She stands. “You’re not my favorite anymore.”
“Favorite what?” Though I hardly care for the opinions of an enraged child.
“Pirate,” she says simply, and for some reason, the word stings just a bit. She stomps away again, this time joining Kearan at the helm, of all places. She sits on the railing before him and says something that makes him laugh. When his eyes dart to me, I can guess she’s complaining about my rulings.
Let them talk about me. See if I care. I have no wish to keep Kearan’s gaze, so I return mine to Bayla’s back.
After a half hour, my arms, stomach, and legs all burn. Muscles I forgot I had throb from the workout.
I keep rowing.
Alosa’s missing girls could be hurt somewhere, so we’ll not slow down or delay in reaching them. If they’re alive, we’ll find them. If there’s any chance that anyone can be saved, I will always fight.
I couldn’t save my sisters, but I will save Alosa’s crew.
THE WIND FINALLY PICKS back up three days later, though it blows in the least favorable direction, so we have to tack the ship, making the voyage even longer.
I make the days count in the only way I know how. I shrug out of my captain’s coat and readjust my knife sheaths. What shall I observe tonight? I could hide myself in the sleeping quarters and see who rises earlier than they should. That’s always a fun one. Or I could position myself high on one of the masts and watch the main deck below me. I can’t hear interactions from up there, but it’s always interesting to see if anyone rendezvous with someone they don’t usually talk to.
I fold my coat and place it in its cubby. Then I turn.
That tricorne is still on the floor, the smallest layer of dust coating it.
The door to my rooms closes without a sound, because I keep the hinges well oiled for just such activities. Kearan is no longer at the helm. His shift ended a few hours ago. Let’s find out what he does when his time is his own. He insisted I don’t know his new habits. I should set about changing that.
He’s not in the bunk area, where Iskirra is halfway through inking a compass onto one of the girl’s upper thighs. He’s not in the galley with the men playing cards. Nor is he anywhere on the top deck. That leaves the lowest level, which isn’t off-limits, but there’s very little reason for anyone to want to be down there, unless they’re trying to hide something.
The hatch barely makes a sound as I open it, and I lower my head into the opening, looking at the area upside down. There’s a small light toward the fore of the ship, so I drop down, my toes connecting with the hull before I land into a crouch. Behind me is all the storage for the journey. Ahead are the cells for those who misbehave. And after that— I hear crying.
But it’s definitely not coming from a man.
I creep closer, keeping my body low to the floor and hugging the edges of the rounded walls, using the beams of the hull to hide behind as I inch closer and closer.
When my ears catch up with my instincts for silence and nearness, I realize the crying can only belong to one person.
Only Roslyn can manage to sound like that, and her little whimpers break my heart.
“I came down here to be alone,” she says.
For a heartbeat, I make the mistake of thinking she’s talking to me.
“I know,” a deep voice answers. Kearan’s. “I also like to be alone when I cry.”
She makes a sound like a snort. “You don’t cry.”
“Don’t I?” he asks.
“No. Grown-ups don’t cry.”
“Oh, yes, we do.”
“What do you have to cry about? Sorinda actually wants you here.”
At that, Kearan laughs. “No, she doesn’t. I’m here because Alosa wants me here.”
“Then at least somebody wants you here. Nobody wants me.” A little sob makes her shoulders shake.
“That’s not true, and you know it. You know why you’re not allowed to be here.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re bad at it. Go away.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Kearan says, “I miss my mother. It’s okay if you miss your father, even if you want to be here.”