“I already told you—”
“Swear to me,” I say, my voice rising. “I need to hear it right now. Roslyn needs to get home to her papa.”
Kearan doesn’t slow or skip a beat. “I swear it.”
“Thank you.” His vow makes me want to reach out and touch him. I hesitate for several seconds, before reminding myself that I’m not afraid of anything.
I reach for his hand, despite how unnatural the gesture is for me. But my forwardness is rewarded by him threading his fingers through mine.
It feels incredible, even if it doesn’t feel the way it should. There’s a humming in my chest, a nervous flutter that is delicious and unlike anything I have ever felt before. It is nice to touch him. To be touched by him. Even though I cannot feel the heat of his body.
Kearan must read my thoughts because he says, “We’ll find a way to put you back to normal.”
“Threydan said it can’t be done.”
“Since when do we trust that bastard?”
“We don’t.”
“Then don’t lose hope. You said it was a siren artifact that made you this way. Maybe Ava-lee knows a way to fix it.”
I hadn’t considered that the siren queen might have answers for me. It is a possibility, if a small one. But that’s all one needs to hope.
“Thank you,” I say. “For last night. For the hope you bring. For the promises you keep. I won’t forget any of it. Ever.”
“You are my captain. You do not need to thank me for such things.”
“And if I weren’t your captain?” I ask.
He turns his head to face me. “I would still do them for you, Sorinda.”
I want to ask him why. What does he see in me? The same things I see in myself? Or new ones that I never even noticed? Does he know about the things I see in him? His kindness and bravery and thoughtfulness and fierceness. There are other things, too, things that cannot be explained.
They can only be felt.
And I do feel them for this man. This kind soul who’s never demanded anything of me. Done nothing but be there for me, even when I did not deserve it. He’s always been what I needed. He’s always done what I needed, including hiding his feelings until I was ready to know about them.
How could I have kept him at a distance forever?
When we reach the beach, I stare out at the dark blue water and shudder.
“It’s not like before,” Kearan says. “You’re in control. You can change your mind if you don’t want to do this.”
“I can’t,” I say. “Not if I’m to be a good captain.”
“Then you admit you’re a good captain?” he asks.
I smile, and Kearan’s lips part.
He swallows. “Your smiles are rarer than diamonds and infinitely more precious.”
I frown. “Don’t quit piracy to become a poet.”
“Ha.” He nudges me with a shoulder. “I’m serious. It is a lovely smile.”
“Thank you, but watch what you say else Enwen will never let you hear the end of it.”
“Don’t I know it.”
I’m glad for the banter. It lessens my nerves and helps me see my task more clearly. I’m doing this for all of them. If we pull this off, we’ll have completed the task set out for us—despite all the complications that have come up along the way.
“It will be hard to move about the ship when I’m sopping wet,” I say, thinking of this for the first time.
“You could always undress and carry your clothes above you in the water.”
“That won’t exactly help in the area of stealth now, will it? Besides, it would slow me down.”
“Aye, but I’d have a nice image to reminisce on as I returned to the crew.”
My mouth drops open, and Kearan flashes his teeth in a smile.
“We’re fighting for our survival, and you want to be flirty now?”
He shrugs. “I haven’t had the chance to before now, and we might die.”
Truer words were never spoken. “Don’t expect me to reciprocate. I don’t know how to flirt.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t do it with words.” He eyes my side, where he knows I have at least a couple of knives tucked away.
“You’re a strange man.”
“Aye.”
There’s no more delaying what I have to do next. No matter how much I may want to stand right here and take the time to actually enjoy being around him. Now that I know I am allowed to. Because he doesn’t hate me for what I did.
“Watch for my signal,” I say.
“We will. Give ’em hell.”
“You can count on it.”
And without another word, I dive into the water.
It is so strange to feel the water but not the temperature. It is unnatural to breathe when I know I should not be able to. I feel a momentary panic at being underwater like this again. A feeling of being trapped and surrounded by the unknown.
There could still be dangers about, but it’s easier to fight when I know I’m not just doing it for me. I’ve got thirty-eight people on this island counting on me for their survival. It is a humbling feeling. It focuses me, keeps my eyes straight ahead, straining to make out anything dangerous in the water. I don’t stray too far from shore. Where the water is more shallow, fewer creatures can be hiding. And I can’t get turned about that way.
Light cuts through the surface of the water, but it doesn’t travel far. That’s why this plan will work. The enemy won’t see me through the water.
It takes me fifteen minutes to make the swim to the ship. When I catch the darkness of the hull underwater, I slow my approach, looking for the best place to breach the surface. The closer the better.
How does Alosa do this? I try to remind myself that she has perfect vision underwater, whereas I don’t. She’s half siren; I’m not. Still, I feel entirely out of my element below the water. But on land with a knife in my hand, I am the most dangerous of predators.
I pop my head above the surface just far enough to have my eyes out of the water. The side of the ship is massive. I don’t think I’ve ever been on so large a vessel. That bone-white wood has been patched over time and time again, and I wonder if this is the original ship that Threydan’s crew sailed over on, updated and rebuilt as time went on.
There’s no rope ladder extending down the side of the ship. Any handholds I might make use of are too spread apart for me to get all the way up the side. I swim for the fore of the ship. The bowsprit extends like a knifepoint some forty or fifty feet above the water. That’s not going to be helpful.
But the figurehead extends straight down into the water, and I’m able to get a handhold, then a foothold. Whatever the figure used to be, it has long faded with time. Not sure what the paint or wood once depicted. Something humanoid, I think.
Whatever it is, I thank the stars that it’s still intact enough for me to climb.
My muscles strain as I pull my legs out of the water. My wet clothes are unbelievably heavy and noisy, water dripping into the ocean as I climb. I move slowly, listening for any movement through the gunport above me. When I don’t hear so much as a rustle of clothing, I find another handhold and pull myself up another arm’s-length. Pause. Repeat.