Page 44 of A Curse of Salt

I jerked back, unsure why his touch made the rest of the world feel so hollow. He’d told me, that very night, that the kingdom I dreamed of was real. That there was truth in the stories that had given me hope when all he’d ever given was darkness. Yet here he was, sending shivers of heat across my skin with a simple graze of his hands.

‘Then let me see you,’ I said, trying to sound resolute. ‘Save us both some time.’

I didn’t care what he hid from, didn’t care that I’d never be able to mend whatever was broken in him. I just wanted to know . . .

His hand found my chin again, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip. My knees nearly buckled beneath the weight of his touch, the shadows he seared into my skin. He stood motionless, his entire being transfixed on some part of me even I couldn’t see.

This should feel wrong, I thought, but my mind barely registered it. All I could feel was his thumb on my lip, that splinter of skin where our bodies were connected.

‘You don’t want that,’ Sebastien muttered, pulling away slowly. ‘You won’t find what you’re looking for.’

I hadn’t realised my heart was racing until it slowed, until cold air replaced where his hand had been. I swallowed thickly. What was I looking for?

Before I could reach out to stop him, before the world around us could crumble any further, the King vanished from the room, leaving me bewildered, angry. Torn.

No. I cut my thoughts off sharply, letting out a huff. I’d let my guard down, let him get too close. Most of all, I’d been disappointed when he pulled away.

What was wrong with me?

I changed into my nightdress and climbed into bed, determined to forget the King’s shadows, his touch, his voice in my ear.

I gazed up at the rose-wreathed bed frame, pondering what my sisters would say if they could see me now, stretched out among soft furs, bathing in the luxury of the Heartless King’s warship. Aberdeen would’ve envied the finery: washing in rosewater, dressing in silk and dining like a queen each night. Felicie would’ve danced alongside the crew and glowed at Mors and Aron’s kindness. Neither of my sisters would’ve been foolish enough to bargain with the King, I knew that much.

A tangle of emotions clutched at my chest at the thought of Felicie here in my place. It was supposed to be her.

I couldn’t name the dull, sinking feeling that filled me as I pictured myself back in Father’s study, reading of adventure while my sister lived it. Or worse, if it had been Father who’d left the bay that night instead. There would have been no way out for any of us then.

If the King was telling the truth, I’d be freed by Bane’s death. But now that hope felt hollow – nothing compared to what the stories of the Sinking Cities had stirred in me. The calling of the sea.

Returning to Northbay felt more like fate than a future. The cottage had always been a hideout, not a home. Sebastien was right – I’d suffocate. And for Felicie, I would. I’d make it through this and prove I could protect her, once and for all.

I thought of Sebastien’s calloused hand on my wrist, his shadows coiling like flames in the base of my stomach.

Gods. I pressed my face into the pillows with a groan. Where do I go from here?

14

The crew moved about in an unusual clamour, loading heavy crates and locked chests on to the deck from below. Their spirits were high, their voices loud and bracing against the breeze, and the shanties they sang grew progressively lewder as the day wore on.

Aron took me up to the crow’s nest, showing me how to climb the shrouds without burning my fingers on the ropes. I pulled myself on to the wooden lookout with a satisfied grunt, turning in a circle to admire the expanse of ocean, the endless, undulating blue—

I gasped. ‘There’s someone out there,’ I said, grabbing Aron’s arm and pointing to an oncoming ship, its bow angled straight for us.

The pirate laughed. ‘Aye, lass. Ye think we haven’t noticed?’

I smiled sheepishly over my racing heart. ‘Right,’ I said, trying to sound calm. Was this it? Had Bane come for me? ‘And who is it, exactly?’

Aron’s smile slipped for a moment before he replied, ‘An old friend.’

His answer wasn’t entirely reassuring, and the sharp edge of wariness didn’t leave me as I asked, ‘One you aren’t planning to kill?’

He grinned. ‘O’ course. We’ve just got some, er, affairs to sort.’

I heard Golde’s shout from the quarterdeck as she gave orders to strike the sails and drop anchor.

‘C’mon.’ Aron beckoned, swinging back over the lookout railing. ‘Ye’d best stay out o’ the way fer today. Not always the friendliest o’ friends, this bunch.’

Apprehensive, I descended the ratlines behind him, the crew’s shanty encircling us, rhythmic as the waves.

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