Page 38 of A Curse of Salt

‘N-no,’ I stammered, scrambling upright. ‘Just reading.’

We both glanced down at my empty hands and I cursed myself silently. Could’ve said anything, fool.

‘Ye sure?’ Aron waggled his brows. ‘Perhaps I can be o’ service?’

I regarded him for a moment, assessing the gleam in those storm-grey eyes, always eager for mischief. ‘He took something from me.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, and I want it back. It’s just a book, but—’

‘Want me to distract him for ye?’

I blinked at his willingness, nodding before he could retract the offer. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime, lass.’

Aron slid down the banister to the quarterdeck and disappeared from sight. A door opened below and angry voices leaked out once more. Sebastien’s growl was easily distinguishable as Aron said something about fresh air. There was a moment of huffed protests before Mors and the King emerged, Aron trailing after them.

I watched from behind the wooden balusters as the three men descended to the main deck. Once they were out of earshot, I darted down the steps and through the doors. I wouldn’t have long.

I crept through the navigation room, recalling the fear that had gripped me the last time I’d stood here. But the windows were no longer broken, the lamps were lit, and there was no time to stop as I reached the door at the end and swung it open.

The King’s bedchamber was dark. Thick curtains hung across the sterncastle windows and a single candelabra illuminated the opulent clutter. Musty volumes, scattered parchment and ancient-looking ornaments littered a sturdy writing desk. Ink bottles, daggers and discarded clothing were strewn across every available surface, dust cloying at the edges of it all. It was every bit the chamber of a king, but one a little too lived-in to feel luxurious.

I moved further inside, surprised by how normal it appeared. No human skeletons in the corners, no cauldron filled with blood. Aside from the stale darkness, it was almost . . . inviting.

Rich velvet drapes surrounded the towering four-poster bed. The dark crimson sheets were rumpled, slept in, an unwelcome reminder that this was the Heartless King’s one splinter of privacy in the world, and I was invading it.

The bedsheets brought a flash of colour to mind – a flood of red, a story. It would be my own blood in a minute, if I didn’t get moving.

I sifted quickly through the nightstands and beneath the mattress before turning back to the desk. As I rounded the bed, my foot snagged on an trailing sheet and I went tumbling to the ground. My hand shot out to grab hold of something – and I yanked on a swath of fabric draped over the desk. It swept to the floor beside me, sending a glimmer of light sparking through the room.

Candlelight gleamed in the surface of a mirror. I picked myself up, drawn to the glint of the looking glass. It’d been weeks since I’d seen one – seen myself. I was almost afraid to look.

I turned slowly, my petticoats stirring dust, and met my own gaze in the mirror. I blinked. It was the same face I’d always seen. The same sweeping jaw, gossamer lips, delicate nose. So why did I feel so different?

My once-gaunt features were full of life again, but it was in my eyes that I found the answer. Their honey-dipped warmth glowed bright in the winking light of the Heartless King’s chamber. They’d seen so much death – so much more life, too.

And I looked older, dressed in pirate garb. Wilder. The leather corset laced over my loose blouse was more of a comfort than a restraint, and my lips quirked at the dirty hems of my skirts, imagining all the ways Aberdeen would’ve berated me for them.

The shadows around me shifted in the mirror, making my lungs constrict. Inconspicuous as nightfall, the Heartless King emerged over my shoulder.

I spun around, heart wedged in my throat. I’d become so accustomed to his presence I hadn’t sensed him until it was too late.

Sebastien stepped closer, waves of darkness rolling from his cloaked form.

Panic fluttered in my chest. Risking my life for a book – how fitting.

‘I want it back,’ I blurted, before he could speak. As if I could distract him from the fact that he’d caught me snooping.

The King stayed silent for a moment, the candelabra beside me flickering between us. Gods, he’s really going to kill me.

‘The book you stole?’ I prompted. ‘The one—’

‘I know what you meant.’ Shadows leaped over the walls as he strode closer still. ‘I burned it.’

My heart plummeted. No. ‘How could you?’

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