Page 23 of A Wrecking of Salt and Fire

Sheathing her dagger, Katrin took another step back.

It would not aid her in the rest of today’s battle. She needed to figure out why she was here. What he wanted with her. This time she would be smart about her escape. This time no one would touch her or they would get a slice across their throat. Her hand still hovered over the hilt. They would have to pry the dagger from her cold dead hands.

Her mind reeled again, taking in the surroundings, the differences between this cabin and the one she was locked in before. The warmth in the craftsmanship of the chairs and the bed, beautiful branches painted on the side of them. A small desk sat in the corner, one that reminded her of her mother’s, carved on one side with a mountain and wolves and the moon, the other decorated with a sea serpent at an entrance to a cove.

A velvet chaise sat in the middle of the cabin between two chairs and a low table, steaming cups of an incredible smelling spiced drink and bread and fruits spread out on top of it. Her eyes narrowed. So poison it would be. Just like the first time. A way to drug her into a dreamless sleep.

“Oh, what? Are my quarters not sufficient enough for a future queen?” Ander purred.

“Your quarters?” Katrin choked on her own words.

“Well, I couldn’t stick you with the crew now, could I?”

Katrin recoiled, almost knocking over another chair. The hairs on her arms rose, her breath catching deep in her throat.

Ander leaned forward like he might reach out a hand, but then stopped. “I didn’t mean it like that. No one would harm you. Trust me, you would give those men quite the competition. Leighton—” he was cut off by her sharp tongue.

“Trust you! I’m supposed to trust you. The man who convinced me to tell him my darkest secrets and then used those secrets and fears to kidnap me!”

“First of all, Aikaterine, I convinced you of nothing. You told me of your own free will. And second, I did not kidnap you.” His words were as cold as the depths of the sea beneath them.

“Oh really, and what would you call this?” She waved her hand around his quarters. What an insolent, narcissistic man.

Ander stood up, placing his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Saving you.”

Katrin rolled her eyes. Livid, he was making her absolutely livid with his casual demeanor and avoidance of her actual questions.

“The only person I need saving from is you!”

He smirked, “I guess we will see, Starling.”

Katrin snapped her eyes back to him.

“What did you call me?” Her voice went hoarse, the very air in her lungs disappeared.

“You are free to roam about the ship as you please. Just don’t fall overboard, that would be very inconvenient for me to have to rescue you yet again. You’ll find clothes in the dresser—don’t worry, this time they are women's clothes—and the food and tea are yours to have. And before you ask, no, they are not poisoned.” With that, he slipped out of the room.

Shock was plastered across Katrin’s face.

Starling.

For several moments, Katrin could not move, could not shake the feeling that she’d heard that name before. Almost like it was a whisper that came to her in a dream, floating along the shores and swirling up through her window on the winds. Starling, Starling, Starling. A lost memory, but she could not place it.

Katrin walked over to the dresser in the corner, running her hands along the worn driftwood. Her breath caught, as if a little piece of home was there with her. That same pale gray color that filled her chambers at the castle, the same smooth lines and knots that were carved out from the sea. She opened one of the drawers, pulling out a pair of tight black cotton pants and a gauzy blue top. They looked slightly big for her, but they would be alright for now. A temporary solution to her lack of anything but a dirty gown.

Her eyes flicked around the room, searching. She could really use a bath, or just some soap and water to wash the scent of last night off her. Clean the sweat and shame that still lingered in places hidden by her dress.

A small archway sat on the other side of the chaise and table. It led to a hallway, two doors lining the side. She could hear the thumping above her, the crew must have been up and was preparing the ship to move. She could tell they were anchored for now. Spent enough time below the deck to understand what the different sounds of the waves smacking against the side meant, the graceful way the ship swayed when it was anchored in a calm cove or at port.

She cracked open the first door just slightly enough to peer in. Katrin’s eyes widened as this one appeared to house what looked like a storage room. Another door lay on the other side of the room, no doubt leading to the main corridor of the ship. A large dark wooden table sat in the middle, covered in charts and small wooden figurines, each one a depiction of the banners of the isles, although she did not dare to move close enough to see which ones were displayed. The walls were plastered in weaponry—spears, daggers, long-swords, axes. The most intriguing weapon shimmered in the center of the wall. A single golden trident. Katrin never saw such a magnificent—yet deadly—work of craftsmanship in her life. At least she would know where to sneak more weapons from if she needed them.

Katrin moved on to the second door. Sweet relief filled her as she slowly opened it and took in a large bronze tub already bubbling with steaming hot water, plush towels folded next to it. An old, faded mirror outlined in gold sat above a small table with what looked like all sorts of lotions and oils. She shut the door behind her, bringing down the latch she could only hope was a lock, and breathed.

It was her first real breath since she woke and realized where she was. Deep and filling, stilling her mind and her soul. Katrin began to unlace her dress, shimmying it off and kicking it to the side. She unstrapped the leather sheath from her thigh and laid her dagger on the table to the side. Then she stepped one foot into the bath.

The heat caused tiny bumps to travel along her skin, but they quickly faded. She stepped fully into the bath, sinking her whole body straight under. Her mind went quiet, all lingering thoughts of shame and disgrace and torture leaving with each moment that passed.

When she surfaced she scanned around for something to wash herself with. Sitting next to the tub were several bottles of soap, each one a different color. She reached for the closest, opening the bottle. The scent washed over her, one of lilies and mint. It was intoxicating and relaxing. Exactly what she would need to focus herself for what was to come.

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