Page 67 of Of the Stars and Sea

Grayson leans back on the cavern wall and extends his long legs out in front of him. I look down at the bedroll Zaos found for us. It’s hardly large enough for one person, let alone two. I’d have to sleep on top of Grayson if we both want to fit and that . . . just won’t happen.

I take a few bites of the bread and cheese before Grayson says, “Harrick’s father was a good friend of mine for most of his life. He wasn’t much for sea faring adventures, but he loved a good ale and every time I came back from hunting a prize, I’d recount the events to him over a pint. I think the stories made him feel like he had lived through them too. Almost like he could imagine himself being braver than he was.”

Finishing the last bite of bread, I start searching for another release on the Serpent’s Key. “I think living a simple life is brave. To know there’s a large world out there, filled with unseen wonders, and to still choose to be satisfied with what’s right in front of you . . . I can only imagine what it must be like to not have the constant desire to search for something else.”

“A pirate’s life,” Grayson says, his voice dropping low. “Our kin’s blood runs through your veins. Deeper than most.”

I look over at him. His dark locks frame his face. “I am made of water and salt. Born to the sea herself?—”

“And she will be the one to claim me,” Grayson says with me. “The Code,” he says with a sigh, “is a complicated thing.”

“We’ve both broken our vow to the ink etched onto parchment. Sometimes I wonder if The Code holds any meaning at all. I wonder if we aren’t just barbarians trying to convince ourselves and the rest of the world that we’re more civilized than we really are,” I say.

My fingers slip across the right side of the Serpent’s Key and another notch releases inward. I look at Grayson then tothe golden artifact in my hands with anticipation, but nothing happens.

We both start breathing normally again as I continue to work the sides of the puzzle box. Grayson reaches for one of the packs and pulls out a leather strap, then unsheathes the dagger at his chest. The sound of the metal blade moving against the leather is familiar and soothing.

“We’ve broken The Code because the other choices made available to us were unsavory,” Grayson says, his voice low.

“I’m pretty certain anyone who breaks The Code would say that in their defense.”

He stops sharpening his dagger. “And does that make it wrong?”

Looking at him, I shake my head. “Not wrong. Just . . . difficult.”

He moves the blade against the leather strap again, his arm working forward and backward in long smooth strokes. “The world is painted in shades of light and dark. There are some things that are so bright, sopure, that not even the depths of the hells could taint their glow. Like the first smile a new born babe shares with its mother. Or a promise of forever shared between two souls.”

His eyes meet mine for a single moment before he looks back down at his blade.

“Then there is evil so dark it would consume the light of even the brightest star. What Tommy went through . . . what all the children sold into slavery go through . . .” His lips are tight as he shakes his head and I feel the rage washing off him as if it were my own.

Grayson’s chest expands as he inhales deeply. “Most things in this world have hues of grey and it is up to us to make decisions based on the information given to us. We won’t alwaysget it right, Rowenya. And sometimes dark things must be done to give way to the light.”

“Like killing an entire crew without putting them on trial,” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says, without remorse. “And if I have to live with their blood on my hands to ensure the safety of innocent children—that is a burden I will happily bear.”

Chapter 17

We stare at each other for a long moment, the weight of his words looming between us.

“I think about the burden my parents left me with every single day,” I finally whisper. “How theirchoicesleft me with an empty home and a hollow heart. What you’re doing for these children, Grayson . . .” I blink the tears away. “You’re right. We don’t live in a black and white world where good always overcomes evil. Sometimes our hand is forced and we have to meet fire with fire to keep what’s pure and beautiful alive. For so long, I’ve been afraid to fight back. I’ve been afraid to take a stand.”

“Until you grew too tired of being shackled to someone else’s whims.” Grayson nods toward the Serpent’s Key in my hand.

“Yes.” The word is heavy on my tongue. “I was so tired of being under Red Beard’s control and watching every task he assigned us chip away at my crew. He used fear to sculpt us into whatever he wanted us to be. And after a while I looked around and we had all changed into something none of us could recognize.”

“Is that what happened to your father?” he asks gently, like the question itself might crack the fragile armor I try to maintain around myself.

I look away to some distant corner of the cavern, but instead of the crystals and hewn rock, the image of my father’s body swinging in the gallows flashes across my mind. I can still smell the stench of rotten food that was thrown at him. Still feel the warmth on my cheeks from the high noon sun as the hangman pulled the lever and the floor fell out from beneath my father’s feet. I can feel the raindrops that splattered across my skin later that night as I stood there, unable to look away from what they had turned him into.

“He . . .” My voice cracks and there’s no fighting the tears that stream down my face. I wipe them away with the back of my hand, hating the sensation of my throat closing in on itself. I look at Grayson and shake my head as more tears fall. “I can’t.”

He sets his dagger and leather strap to the side and kneels before me. His eyes are a vibrant blue, illuminated like backlit sapphires, even though his body blocks out the moon’s light, casting a shadow over me. As his hand comes to the side of my cheek, I remember the moment on his ship’s deck when I wondered what it might be like to take refuge in his darkness.

Here, with him, there is no outside world. No vengeful pirates seeking to have me destroyed for doing the very thing they’ve done their entire lives. No fear that my life will be taken by someone in the street looking to make a quick coin.

Grayson strokes my skin with the pad of his thumb and, for the first time, the anger of my father’s demise doesn’t sting quite as sharply.Choices, Grayson has said time and again. My father had made his and even though it was at the behest of everyone who loved him, it was still his to make. The center of my chest clenches with each passing memory of him that flashes through my mind, but somewhere in the far distance, I see it. Finally, theanger drifts away and I see the thread of light illuminating every beautiful moment I shared with him.

---