How is he still not listening to me? “But I could have stopped it! I could have saved her. I could have, and I chose not to.”
“You could not have stopped any of it. Tell me, did any of the servants make it out alive?”
I shake my head frantically. Though it’s the correct response to his question, I think it might be a response to the way he’s reacting.
“That girl would have died whether you came forward or not. Do you think he would have spared her? Do you think he wouldn’t have killed you both just to be sure he got the right heir? Do you think he wanted any soul in that building alive to tell the tale of what happened? Justice happened because you survived. You lived to make it right.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is the choice I made.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“How can it not?” I nigh scream the words before I remember myself. “Look at little Roslyn. She was ready to give her life for me when Threydan came for me. She’s seven, and she was prepared to die. She wanted to save me. You can’t tell me children aren’t capable of making difficult choices.”
Kearan leans forward. “And would you have had her die for you?”
“Never.”
“Your life was not any less important than little Sleina, who died in your stead. You must see that. And is it the right choice for Roslyn to throw her life away like that?”
“You’re trying to talk me into a corner.”
“I’m trying to show you.” He reaches forward, places his large hands on either side of my face, and I go utterly still. “You are worthy of saving. You are worthy of life. You are not that little girl anymore. You have given your life time and time again for this crew. You have risked that precious life a hundred times over for Alosa. For others. You are good. You are capable. You are worthy of love, Sorinda. You are worthy of my love.”
I’m crying again. I hate crying. And Kearan is there to wipe away my tears before I can.
“I expect nothing from you,” he continues. “But do not ask that I stop caring for you because of this sin you think you have committed. It won’t work.”
I am so raw and exposed, yet his words are just what I need to hear. I feel myself leaning into his touch. I place my hands over his as I cry.
Because if the person in front of me can see good within me, then maybe it’s okay for me to see it, too. Maybe every day doesn’t have to feel like I’m making up for past crimes.
Maybe I can just live.
“I’m sorry, Sleina,” I say as I turn my face toward the sky. “I’m so sorry.”
I cry for her. I cry for me. I cry for everything that should have been.
Kearan moves to the log to sit beside me and enfolds me in his arms. It is a touch I have not welcomed in thirteen years. But today I am desperate for it.
Even if I cannot feel the warmth of that touch.
Because I know what it means.
It means someone cares.
And that is what is most important.
Chapter 21
“YOU SHOULDN’T TOUCH ME like this,” I say when I get my tears under control. “He might be watching.”
“To hell with him,” Kearan says.
“He can’t be sent to hell. Only back to sleep.”
“Then I hope he has nightmares of me every night.”
I laugh.
This isn’t natural for me. Not the crying. Not the embracing. But it’s what I need nonetheless. I have never had another soul make me feel so light. I can’t help but want to be physically close to him.
When the first tent flap slides back, Kearan scoots away from me. I know it’s not because he doesn’t want to be seen with me, but because he knows I can’t be seen leaning on someone else. Not as the captain, and certainly not in front of newcomers, who still don’t really know my character. I’m glad my tears are dried. We can appear as though we are merely sharing the warmth of the fire. But the truth is, we shared so much more.
A precious moment. One that I feel might just change the course of my life.
If we make it off this island.
Jadine and her helpers start on breakfast. Kearan adds more wood to the fires.
I add more hope to my soul.
I thought all I had to do was reveal my secret truths and then I would be rejected. People would hate me. Kearan would hate me, and the choice would be made for me. I wouldn’t have to decide if I like this thing that has blossomed between us. This feeling I get whenever he is near.
But now? Now I do have choices to make.
Just not until I get this crew safely out of here. Not until I know whether I live or die.
Otherwise, it’s a moot point.
I feel myself stealing glances at Kearan as the morning goes by. The crew eats and the women on watch are switched out with fresh eyes. Dimella takes roll, and Captain Warran tries to hide his disdain.
Yet I cherish every time Kearan’s eyes meet mine. I relish in those brief connections until it is time to go to work.
“Listen up, you lot,” I say. “It’s time we got off this island.”
“Has the queen been spotted on the horizon?” Dimella asks.
“No, but we’re not going to wait around for her.”
“Why should we need to wait for your queen to arrive before leaving?” Captain Warran interrupts.
There’s no dancing around this issue any longer. What’s Warran going to do at this point? Leave?
“Our ship sank same as yours, but it is of no matter. There’s—”
“You don’t have a ship!” the captain thunders. “All that talk of rescue and your noble pursuits, and you don’t even have a way to get us off this bloody island? Bloody pirates! You lot—”
Kearan steps in front of the man, blocking him from my view. I can’t see the look he gives the other captain, but it finally shuts the man right up.
“The Drifta have a ship,” I say. “We’re going to steal it. We know the general direction of where it struck from. We’ll find it, we’ll take it, and we’ll never look back.”
“We’re going to steal something?” Nydus asks, the prospect clearly exciting him.
“Pirates,” Shura reminds him. “Besides, the natives stranded us here in the first place. It’s only right they be our means of returning home.”
“Indeed,” I say. “Pack up camp at once. We won’t be returning. Be ready to move out within the hour.”
Everyone leaps into movement, letting down tents, packing up the food, dousing the fires. Even amidst the flurry of movement, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. I turn, seeing a figure stride away.
Though I’m not perfectly familiar with the crew of the Wanderer yet, I’m certain that man isn’t one of theirs. No, it was one of the undead, and he’s been called away elsewhere.
Threydan surely knows of our plans.
We don’t have much time.
Roslyn reloads pistols while the adults do the packing. We make quick work of it, getting everything loaded up in under thirty minutes.
And then we move. Dimella takes the front with her compass, leading us back the way we came. Roslyn stays at my side, holding my hand. Kearan stands on the other side of her. Near me, yet not so near as to mean anything by it.