Page 66 of A Curse of Salt

‘I don’t have that kind of time,’ I told her. I had just over a week until the solstice. Just over a week to work out what the hell I was going to do. Hand myself over and try to negotiate peace? Or watch more blood be spilled over me, and pray it would set me free? It wasn’t a choice, really.

Una’s frown deepened. ‘Aye . . . Whale Rock. Sebastien told us. S’pose time is movin’ quicker than I’d have liked. Won’t stop us fightin’, though.’

‘What if you didn’t have to fight?’ I ventured. ‘What if I went willingly? If we could just convince the crew to let Bane go, you could all live. This could end peacefully.’

Una’s soft features hardened. ‘That ain’t how this works. Bane was our brother. He turned on us.’ Her voice broke, splintered by the depth of his betrayal. ‘He chose a family that was already dead over the family we gave him. Swindled us fer money, ships, politics. We’ll protect ye as best we can, but there’s no sense in tryin’ to save anybody. Wouldn’t be a pirate if I didn’t die fightin’ fer the people I love.’

I gripped her hand tighter. ‘Don’t die for this,’ I pleaded.

But I could see it in her eyes, the kind of iron will that couldn’t be shaken.

Home, Sebastien had said they were going. Now they were changing course for a place that hated them. They’d die on strange tides if it meant killing a man they’d once loved.

I sighed, knowing it was no use arguing. If I was going to try to save them, I’d have to do it on my own.

Una leaned over to kiss my temple, her calloused hand squeezing mine before she let go. My limbs felt like lead and I could only watch with a sinking heart as she padded towards the door.

She gave me one last sad smile and slipped out into the hall. ‘Get some rest.’

I sagged back into the bed and buried my way beneath the furs, seeking warmth but finding none. My shoulder ached, the back of my skull throbbed, and my mind churned with questions.

I rolled over, wincing at the pain that spiked through my stitches. The room was gloomy, filled with cloudy evening light. The windows stood solid as they always had, but I felt so much more exposed. If that creature could get in without breaking them . . . the gods only knew what might come next.

20

Rain drizzled down the windows for hours. The sound of it filling my chamber was enough to jolt me awake every time sleep closed in. My heart hammered in my chest, eyes darting to the glass.

It’s nothing, I kept telling myself, but the shadows were playing tricks on me and I didn’t trust the panes to keep out the darkness any longer.

I rolled on to my back, wincing at the pain that nipped my shoulder, and tossed the sheets aside. The sound of the storm flooded my mind with memories of the previous night. A hiss, a flash of searing pain, claws wrapped around my throat. The clatter of my dagger on wood. Then Sebastien, his hands, his lips. His arms, lifting me from the dark.

I turned over, burying my face into the pillow, and groaned. Then I clambered out of bed, draped a soft grey fur around my shoulders and headed for the door.

My body steered me where my mind told me not to go: out into the cold, my bare feet splashing across the deck as I hurried up the steps, slipping into the warmth of the navigation room.

Honey-gold light trickled from beneath the doorway at the other end of the cabin. I halted before it, my hand raised to knock, my mind and body locked in a raging sword fight.

Don’t go in there, the logical part of me cried. But I didn’t want to be logical. Didn’t want to be alone in that room. Didn’t want to be anywhere, really, but with him.

The door swung open.

‘Oh.’

Sebastien stood in the doorway, his dark hair tousled, dressed in a nightshirt and pants. My hand fell limply to my side as we stared at each other, silent but for the rain drumming against the windows behind me.

‘I was just . . .’ I faltered, flushing at how foolish I looked, standing damp and barefoot on his threshold in the middle of the night. ‘I wanted to—’

‘I was coming to see you,’ he cut me off. ‘I wanted to talk to you this morning, I . . . I’m sorry.’

My stomach flipped.

A cold draft whispered in behind me and I shivered. Sebastien glanced over at the windows, the storm-thick night, and stepped back to let me pass.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I whispered, suddenly all too aware that I was here, in his bedchamber, wearing nothing but my nightgown. Because I was scared of nightmares and the rain.

‘How’s your shoulder?’ he asked, shutting the door behind us. Moonlight trickled through the windows, but the sound of the rain was muffled here, the shadows wrapped reassuringly around the walls.

I shrugged, then winced. ‘It’s fine.’

---