I bring my arm down on hers, harder this time. A little more force with each blow, until I can see her arms begin to falter. Just when I think her sword is going to drop, she twists to the side and brings her left elbow up. I block it just in time, inches before my nose is shattered. She’s adapting, using whatever she has to win. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so shrewd.
I push Lira away and she falls to the floor with a grunt. She flips onto her back, elbows digging into the wood of the deck, and lets out a long breath.
“Gallantry is not your strong point,” she says.
“I’ll remember that the next time you’re drowning.”
“I wasn’t drowning.” Lira heaves herself off the floor. “I can’t drown.”
“No,” I say. “You can’t swim.”
She glowers and then raises her sword, gesturing for me to do the same. I’m more than happy to oblige. It seems I can get under her skin after all.
Lira pierces the blade forward, aiming for my heart. I jump out of the way and slam the handle of my sword into her stomach. She stutters back, but her teeth are ground together. There’s no scream or sign of pain aside from the devilish flicker in her eyes. I think about stopping, but I don’t have the chance before she’s surging toward me once more.
She throws her weight into the next blow and I struggle to bring my sword up fast enough. It’s unexpected, and I take a moment too long to process it, giving Lira the perfect opening.
Her fist cracks against my cheek.
The pain is intense but fleeting, and Lira blinks, surprised at herself. I’m less shocked at her for taking the opening than I am at myself for giving it. I kick my leg up, sending Lira’s sword flying across the deck. She tries to copy the gesture, aligning her foot directly with my heart. But she can’t keep her balance, and as soon as her ankle is in the air, I grab it and twist. She whirls over and crashes onto her hip.
I take a step toward her. Her palms are flat on the deck, but when she sees me nearing, her head whips up and she curls her leg out. I feel my feet being swept out from under me, but catch myself before I slam beside her.
I step back and Lira pounces to her feet again. We eye each other like hunter and prey, and I cock an eyebrow, daring her to move toward me. Lira smiles impishly in return and picks up her fallen weapon.
We continue on that way, swords arcing through the air, our breath ragged. Soon there’s sun in the distance, or perhaps even moonlight. Everything is muted and as Lira swoops her blade down on mine once more, I let it all fall away. My mission, my kingdom. The world. They exist somewhere other than in this moment, and now there is only this. Me, my ship, and a girl with oceans in her eyes.
24
Lira
I HUM IN SYNC with the ocean, one hand hitched to the empty sword loop on my waist and the other closing over the edge of the Saad. Night quilts the sky with stars sown like the uneven stitching of my jacket.
A new land lies somewhere in reach – the next plotted point in Elian’s quest – and the crew sleeps peacefully below while we sail toward it. Above where I linger, the ship’s wheel stands firm, twitching ever so slightly to steer the Saad onward. Even without a pirate awake to command it, Elian’s mighty vessel navigates knowingly along his chosen course.
I fasten my jacket over my chest as the wind picks up speed and quicken my song to match the pace. It’s an odd sensation to be able to sing and have nobody suffer a consequence for it. To use my voice in the complete opposite way it was intended, with neither death nor sorrow in its wake. Leaving behind nothing but a melody.
I feel at peace.
There’s something about the easy routine of the Saad that settles the awful parts holding true inside my heart. Nights are spent taking in the uncanny tranquility of the ocean, far from my mother’s wrath, and the crew – even Kye, who isn’t at all afraid to be entirely unwelcoming – offers a unique comfort. The easy rapport they share reminds me of home. Of Kahlia. They look at Elian the same way my cousin looks at me: with devotion that isn’t offered in blind fidelity, but earned through something far deeper. Trust. Friendship. Maybe even love. At the very least, I can pretend not to be my mother’s daughter. Live like I’ve never killed, and spend hours of a day without worrying that everything I do might be used against me.
I can almost see why Elian chose to abandon his birthright in favor of such a nomadic life. Though I plan to return to the Diávolos Sea and take my mother’s place, I can’t deny the appeal of a life spent far from the weight of kingdoms. It definitely isn’t the worst idea the prince has had. Most likely. At least he knows what he wants.