Page 74 of A Curse of Salt

‘Who made you the expert?’ I asked begrudgingly.

Una shook her head with a half-smile. ‘I’ve been wi’ a lotta people, lass. I know how they work.’

Her eyes drifted past me, to the crew gathered around the table. I followed her gaze, to see Aron grinning at something Mors had said.

‘What about him?’ I asked.

Una shook her head, braids falling across her face, eyes dropping to her lap. ‘Not him. No – never him.’

I softened, resisting the urge to reach out and hug her. I remembered the way she’d spoken about Golde and Mersey, about how time had torn them apart.

‘I don’t want it to be like that,’ I said quietly.

‘Like what?’

‘Impossible.’

‘It wouldn’t be,’ she said, the reflection of the embers burning in her gaze.

‘How could you possibly know?’ I whispered back, admiring the slope of her features in the flickering light.

She pursed her full lips. ‘I know love,’ she said after a while. ‘I know Aron loves me. Maybe not the way I want – but he gave me a home here, kept me safe. From a bad place, bad people. When Sebastien learned how they’d treated me . . . he went back there and tore that place to the ground. Barely a soul alive who’s ever hurt someone Sebastien loved. Except Bane.’

I suppressed a shudder. ‘You think that’s love?’

Una shrugged. ‘He’s not so monstrous, really. Fer a pirate.’

I stared into the flames again, something nagging at the back of my mind. ‘Whale Rock,’ I said slowly. ‘That’s where you came from?’

Una nodded, her eyes downcast. No one’s lived there in years. I shivered, not wanting to imagine all the ways the Heartless King had turned that place to ruin.

I’d see it for myself soon enough. The Blood Rose was set on her course, the crew determined to sail into a battle we all knew they wouldn’t come out of unscathed. As for me . . . I was trying my hardest not to think about what I’d do next. What kind of choice I might have to make.

Before my worries could take root, Aron approached, bending over me to twirl a tendril of my hair around his finger. ‘Looks good, lass,’ he said with a wink.

Una shoved his shoulder. ‘Don’t ye be winkin’ at her like that,’ she scolded.

Aron grinned, deceptively playful, given the way he stilled at her touch. We walked to the table together and I slid into the seat beside Sebastien, fighting the urge to look at him.

‘Nobody talk to me ’til I’ve eaten,’ Golde grumbled, reaching forward to pile an obscene amount of food on to her plate. She appeared in even worse spirits than usual and I could only assume it had something to do with whatever she’d spent the day discussing with Sebastien. She shovelled forkfuls into her mouth, barely pausing to swallow.

‘Pirates,’ Mors muttered, echoing my thoughts with a smile.

Aron pulled a bottle from the centre of the table and uncorked it. The green glass sparked light through the dining hall, dark liquid sloshing as he filled his goblet to the brim. Una took it from him and did the same, mischief gleaming in their eyes.

‘Trick is to be drunk ’fore the cold can get ye,’ Aron explained, taking a long swig.

‘Cheers to that,’ Una echoed, passing me a full chalice before she poured another for herself.

I sniffed the rum hesitantly, its rich, spiced aroma filling my nostrils. I glanced up at Sebastien, watching the dip of his Adam’s apple as he drained his goblet in a single gulp and slammed it back on to the table.

He stared at me from beneath his lashes, drawing me into his gaze. The clamour of the crew faded until I could hear nothing but the blood in my ears and see nothing but him. The rum burned my throat as it slid down – but even more scorching was the look on Sebastien’s face as he watched me. He raised a hand, dragging a thumb across his lower lip to catch a bead of liquor, eyes drinking in my reaction.

My stomach tightened. I tore my gaze from his before my desire could light my eyes for the whole table to see, biting my lip to chase away a wry smile.

I ate in silence, listening to the brewing argument between Aron, Una and Golde over which of them could stomach the most drink. Drink which, steadily, they were going through by the bottle.

‘The last time ye had a dozen drinks, ye were sick all o’er me!’ Aron roared.

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