Page 65 of A Wrecking of Salt and Fire

Katrin would ask him more about her one day. To help him remember the good. The times when they lived in the serene coastal village of Votios. Whether she had played with him on the shores even though she was eleven years his senior. If she had told him stories as she tucked him in bed at night. Those memories, those thoughts, they were the only thing keeping the memories of the lost souls alive.

The next day, they all rose at the first light of dawn. The chill of autumn creeping farther in off the waters, causing the leaves in the trees to shake and float toward the ground. Katrin slipped into her leather trousers, adding a thick long-sleeved shirt and a vest within which she could sheath her sword. Well, technically Ander’s sword. He allowed her to take the one she stole when she first arrived on The Nostos, the sword that depicted Odysseus’s journey. Katrin still marveled at the intricate depictions carved into the steel, although now the images of the sirens caused a twitch in her neck.

Her father had said goodbye after dinner the night before, his duties in the underworld of Aidesian not allowing him much time in the mortal realm. But Katrin did not care. She only cared that she got to see him at all, even if it was just for a day or two. That a piece of home had been here with her. A reminder of why she had to fight these evil men who threatened to destroy everything she held dear.

The journey was long into the woods. Cypress trees and olive groves lined the dirt path as they walked farther and farther into the center of the isle. Katrin could have sworn a permanent fog lingered there, swirling just above the ground and casting an essence of mystery and dare she say fear. But Ander promised her there were no terrors hiding in the wood or the mountains. The only people who lived on Skiatha were the soldiers and their families. No one had breached the wards protecting the isle. No one could get to her. Nonetheless, she occasionally reached for her dagger when a twig snapped or birds rustled in the bushes.

It was silly, she knew that, not only were there no evil men lurking in the fog, she was surrounded by some of the most skilled warriors in the isles. Literally, these were the men of myths. Katrin would have felt better if she had not been attacked so recently. If every tiny sound in the darkness did not make her jump in fright. If the image of the ruddy faced man sending his foot into her stomach did not plague her when she closed her eyes.

By the time they stopped for lunch, Katrin was pleased the temperature had cooled from the humid air. Even with the crisp breeze and the shade of the trees, sweat still slid down her skin. The leather trousers she put on this morning were starting to stick to her skin in a very uncomfortable way, squeaking with each step she took.

The second half of the day was not as bad. The winds picked up, drying the beads of sweat that had trailed down her back. Katrin stayed toward the front of the group of men, wanting to be near Leighton. The nauarch had not spoken since their talk on the beach the day before. She hated that he had relived his trauma for her. That she intruded on the memories of pain he had so that she could understand what these monsters were doing to innocent people. So she could see why they needed to fight. Why all the isles needed to fight.

Nearing the end of the day, Katrin’s thighs began to ache. She ran every morning, and was used to long journeys on foot, but she had been confined to the ship for so long that her body now rejected the activity. She only hoped there would be a hot bath waiting for her wherever they were staying.

As Katrin looked over toward Thalia, she was jealous of Mykonos, who had spent the majority of the walk in a pack that the seer strapped to her own back. Katrin wondered why they had not taken horses, which would have taken significantly less time and would also not have made her feel like she would melt into the ground if she took one more step.

“We will stop here for the night and continue on in the morning. If we start again at dawn we should make it to the mountains by nightfall.” Ander pointed at the large stone building that sat just off the trail through the woods. It was different from the houses that lined the coast of Skiatha. This was made of a darker stone, shiny and black like the night sky, the moonlight scattering off it back toward the trees. “It’s one of the forts we have set up around the isle. There are around ten on Skiatha. If for some reason there is not enough time to escape, the people can flee to one of them. The forts hold enough weapons and goods in store to withstand a months-long siege. There is little known to man that could break these walls.”

Katrin followed the captain inside, running her hand along the strange dark substance. Her skin prickled as she felt the stone. A sort of buzz, or heat coursing into her. This was not like the stone in Cyther of which Leighton had spoken. That one had absorbed power. This seemed to give it off. Like the building was alive, breathing its air into you to wake you from some sleepless slumber.

Each of the men followed behind, as well as Leighton and Thalia, carrying their packs and heading off in different directions, no doubt for the rooms they had stayed in many times before.

“Ander?” Katrin’s voice was quiet as she contemplated whether to ask the question that had sat with her all day.

He turned back toward her. “Yes, Starling?”

“Do you think…well…do you think I could sleep in your room tonight?” Ander’s brows shot up as he looked around to see if anyone else heard what Katrin had said. Luckily, the men and Thalia had all scattered faster than rats when they arrived to wash before their favorite chef whipped up dinner. The soldiers had told her all about the gruff old man who supposedly made the most delectable meats and pies. Maybe he could bake her into pie so she would feel less embarrassed.

“It’s not what you think—well if you think what I was doing was propositioning you.” Ander just blinked, no hint of a response other than a small tick up of his lip. A smile maybe, but possibly just a twitch. Gods, this man was hard to read. “It’s just that I haven’t had a single nightmare since you started staying in the cabin on the ship with me, and I think with the change of scenery, maybe I wouldn’t know where I was if I woke up and—”

“I’ll show you to my room then.” Ander began to walk down the first corridor to a spiral staircase that led to the second floor. Small lanterns lined the circular path up into a receding darkness.

“I can sleep on a couch or the floor or wherever. I feel guilty I stole your bed on the ship and now—” Katrin needed to stop rambling. She would only embarrass herself more, if that was even possible.

“Whatever you would prefer, Katrin. But I hate to tell you, there’s no couch in my room here, only a bed.”

Katrin gulped, her insides instantly melting. That was not what she meant at all and yet that little flicker of desire swept right back in. Ander opened a small wooden door at the top of the staircase, entering into a simple room that replicated his quarters aboard The Nostos. A large plush bed lay in the center, covered in velvet comforters and pillows deep navy in color. A small desk sat on one side next to a rather large bookcase of worn spines and well read tomes, the opposite facing wall led out to a large balcony.

“Why don’t you wash up, the bathing chamber is just through that door. I’ll use one of the others and see you down at dinner.” His demeanor was light as Katrin looked around the room, absorbing a little piece of who he was everytime he shared a space with her. Clearly this man loved to read, since she had not seen a single room that did not include a shelf or case of books. Even in his mother’s little house on the coast, there had been a shelf filled with what Katrin imagined were tales of the Olympi or perhaps his sister’s romance books.

“Ander,” she called after him.

“Yes, Starling?” It was the second time he said those words since they arrived here, but it sent a tingle across her skin. The way the name rolled off his tongue and danced along her ears.

“Thank you.”

Dinner had been exactly as Katrin expected. Delicious down to the very last morsel of that incredible flaky and nutty pastry the chef drizzled in honey. She licked each of her fingers raw, savoring every last morsel of dessert. And the wine—the rich and bold flavors, a bit of pepper and plum. The princess drank enough of the flavorful liquid that she felt giddy and emboldened.

“Ok, Starling, I think we should get you to your bed or you won’t be able to make the rest of the journey tomorrow.” Ander came up behind her chair, pulling it out slightly.

Katrin did not want to leave, she loved sitting with everyone, listening to their stories, hearing about their lives and dreams and loves. She could stay up all night just listening. But Ander was probably right. She was still sore and if she didn’t give herself time to rest she would need to be carried in a little pack by someone, not the little white cat.

“You mean your bed, Captain.” Katrin’s voice was higher pitched than usual. She thought she had been whispering, but clearly she had not since her words got a snicker from Leighton.

“It’s not what you think, I’m sleeping on the floor,” Ander replied with a grimace. This earned a sly smile from Thalia. Katrin could have sworn she heard the seer mutter, “I’m sure you are,” under her breath.

“Ah yes, the captain will be on the floor. I wouldn’t let him come anywhere near me like that—nope—not ever.” Katrin crossed her hands in front of her body. Ander shook his head, dragging his hand through his hair. “Gods, Captain, you have no sense of humor!”

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