I glare at him to make the ruse more believable. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Thought not.” He scoffs dramatically before walking back toward camp.
I stare after him, taking in the shape of his strong shoulders, which are bunched tighter than I’ve ever seen them. He walks with a slight hunch, as though he feels defeated, but his steps never waver.
What. Just. Happened?
And what does it mean?
Chapter 20
AS I STAGGER BACK into camp, I can’t look away from Kearan. He retrieves the wood he dropped, places it near the closest fire, and brushes wood chips from his gloves and clothes. He lays the ax to the side methodically, as though he’s being extra careful with his movements. As if he knows I’m watching him.
And not just me.
But Threydan, too, through the eyes of the undead.
After a moment of stillness, Kearan takes off toward the other end of camp.
“Kearan?” Enwen asks. “What’s wrong?”
Kearan doesn’t answer as he leaves, barreling into the woods and out of sight. Enwen follows after him, calling his name as he goes.
Is he angry? Is he angry with me?
What is happening?
I’m torn between following and staying right where I am. I want to follow, to demand answers of him, but if Threydan is watching, that is the last thing I should do.
I try to distract myself by focusing on what’s in front of me. The girls are integrating with the crew of the Wanderer, getting to know them.
Shura hugs Visylla. They must have known each other before, and the two are immediately swept into conversation. Dimella tries to get a word out of Captain Warran, but he won’t even look at her. He stands by another one of the fires to warm his hands, glowering at anyone who dares come near.
“Captain Warran, you will be civil to my crew, or I will ensure that you remain on this island forever,” I snap, showing a burst of anger that is uncommon for me. “Is that understood?”
His eyes land on me, and something he sees there has his posture relaxing. “Aye, Captain.”
“Good.”
Now where did Roslyn go off to? I need someone who isn’t confusing as hell to be around.
I RISE IN THE wee hours of dawn, having gone to bed supremely early. I gather snow into a pot and set it by one of the fires. Once it’s melted, I wash myself as best I can with a rag and don fresh clothes. I stay close to the flames, watching them flicker. I may not feel the heat or cold, but I have no interest in letting my wet hair freeze to my skin again. I keep my damp locks positioned near the fire while I wait for everyone else to wake.
I need to have a plan ready for them. My return, as well as the presence of the missing crew we were sent to find, has bolstered their spirits. But my victories feel … cheapened.
For it wasn’t me who found Alosa’s crew. Threydan did with his undead. He only handed them over to me because he wants something from me. It was a show of good faith. Something that he can retract at any moment with his hordes of undead. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the process of growing his numbers by causing fights with the Drifta. What else has he to occupy himself with in that lonely stone house? Thoughts of revenge do not keep a body idle. They demand movement. Preparation. I well know this.
We need to leave before we’re even more outnumbered. Otherwise, we won’t last until Alosa arrives. Not without me agreeing to Threydan’s terms. And if Alosa arrives, some of her pirates will surely die and join the undead before we manage to put Threydan back to sleep. Her voice alone will not be enough. She is but half siren. We need a full siren to keep him asleep for a significant amount of time. She will have to call on aid from her mother, and who knows how long that will take?
I cannot allow us to wait. It is not enough to constantly move camp and do nothing. Besides, we cannot stay hidden long. Not with hundreds of undead able to scour the wilderness without need of food or rest. Threydan will catch me.
Yet what other choice do we have? We have no ship. A large crew. Angry Drifta. Untiring undead. And one immortal man with powers over life and death.
I feel so small. So … insufficient.
And then I remember—
At the barest sound of movement behind me, I turn, expecting the worst.
And it is the worst. Kearan stomps into camp. He makes it clear to the fire I’m occupying before he notices me. Normally, I swear he senses me, but he is clearly distracted right now.
“Were you out all night?” I ask him.
“Aye.”
“Where’s Enwen?”
“He turned in with everyone else. I wanted time alone.”
I flip my braids to the right, letting the underside catch the heat of the fire better. “Now you will be unfit for today’s activities.”
“And what would those be?”
I lower my voice so any listening undead cannot hear.
“Stealing a ship.”
“The Drifta’s galleon? The one that sank us? You mean to take it?”
“Aye. We’ve now enough crew to man it. If necessary, I will of course stay behind so everyone can escape. But if it’s possible for us all to get away together, I would prefer that.”
“We won’t leave without our captain.”
“You will if I command it.”
“Aye,” he says, his voice growing husky. “I will, and when I get everyone to safety, I’ll come right back for you. Even if I have to do it in a rowboat all by myself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I am utterly serious.”
“You’re fatigued, Kearan. You best get some sleep while you can.”
“I have never been more awake.”
“Well—good, then. We will need all hands for the task ahead.”
He doesn’t move any closer to the tents, and I don’t leave my seat by the fire. His breath fogs into the air, while mine remains invisible. I’m glad for it. He can’t tell just how much faster I’m breathing.
You can’t be afraid of the dark when you’re the monster lurking in the shadows.
I am no such thing right now. Not with him. Not for some time.
And I don’t know why or what that means.
“You’ve thought yourself a poor captain for this journey,” Kearan says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Let me point out that time and time again, you’ve put the crew before yourself. Even me. You’ve put me above you when you never should have. Do you still think of everything that’s happened as your failings? Is that why you are out here alone?”
I cannot speak for a moment. “That is what you think I’m stuck on? My failings as a captain? Kearan, there is no doubt in my mind that another captain could have done a better job, but that is not what keeps me up at night.”
“Then what is it? What troubles can I ease?”
My heart picks up like it does before I’m about to make the kill. Only this time, that is not what is happening.
I do not fear this man in the usual way. I do not fear his height or his bearing. I do not fear his mind or his words. It is his heart that terrifies me, and the few times that I have been afraid of something, it has always been remedied with some quick knifework so it can trouble me no more.
But blades are not the only way to kill something. Sharp words can make feelings die.