Page 49 of A Curse of Salt

Chills spiked down my back at her words. I could feel the decades sitting heavy in the air between them. What they’d been through together, what it had made them, I could scarcely fathom. But as they bowed their heads in farewell, I knew this day was, in some strange way, an end.

Sebastien gave the captain a curt nod and backed away, leaving his first mate alone to say her goodbyes. There was a ripple in the crowd, a shifting of gazes and bodies as they retreated. I hung back, curious, my heart pulsing quietly as I sheltered in the alcove of the stairs.

Mersey leant forward, her back hunched, and whispered something in Golde’s ear, a withered hand lingering on the first mate’s cheek. They stayed like that for a long time, cloaked in a haze of longing and an unforgiving sorrow. I caught only snatches of their words – words that tugged at something I never thought I’d feel for that ruthless, black-haired pirate.

‘As much as always,’ Mersey was saying. ‘More.’

‘It hurts . . .’ Golde’s murmured reply reached me in shreds. ‘. . . even when ye’re gone.’

Their heads bent lower, making their mouths impossible to read. Mersey reached for Golde’s hand and my heart clenched at the sight. Gods. How must it feel, to hold love that tightly and still be forced to watch it slip away, piece by piece?

Golde nodded at something the old captain was saying, dark hair falling across her face.

I inched as close as I could without being seen, my back pressed up against the wood.

‘I’m old too, Goldie.’

‘Old enough to come home?’

The first mate’s plea lingered heavy in the air. With it, a cloud of guilt sank over my shoulders. This moment was theirs; it was too private, too much, even for me. But before I could slip away, it was over.

‘Almost,’ Mersey said. Then, with shuffling, half-wooden steps, she turned and left – half a century of history crumbling in her wake.

*

A week later, I emerged into the cool grey afternoon, finding an unsettling stillness hanging over the crew. Two dark blots loomed on the cloud-streaked horizon. The winds had slowed, but it seemed company had finally found us.

The King stood port side of the quarterdeck, watching the oncoming tall ships with Aron and Golde a few paces behind him. Poised, dangerous, their faces were hard as granite. Una and Mors walked amongst the rest of the crew below, weaving through the eight dozen or so bodies that lined the decks, steel blades hanging at their sides.

Mors pushed through the crowd when he saw me, reaching out to guide me back the way I’d come.

‘Keep below today, lass,’ he warned, white brows dipping over his eyes.

I glanced over his shoulder at the ships approaching across the water and headed straight for the quarterdeck. ‘Who is it?’

Mors shook his head, following close at my heels. ‘Doesn’t matter, just get inside.’

Fear feathered through me, but I swallowed it quickly. I wouldn’t cower below when there was a battle being fought on deck. Not if I was the cause.

‘Who is it?’ I asked again, planting my feet at the top of the stairs. I squinted at the horizon, trying to make out the colours of the approaching vessels, but it was useless.

Aron turned to look at me, his eyes telling me everything I needed to know. ‘Bane.’

I tried to steady my breathing, my heartbeat swelling in my ears. He was here.

‘What now?’ I asked, barely hearing myself over the pounding of my blood.

‘Now those traitors die on the planks where they betrayed us,’ Golde growled, her eyes fixed on the encroaching ships.

Now they die, because of me. Because Bane thought my blood a currency he could use to buy his revenge against Oren. Or worse – buy me.

I looked over at the King. ‘I’m staying on deck,’ I said, wondering if he even cared.

He barely spared me a glance before he grunted, ‘Let her.’

The lines that rayed from Mors’ eyes deepened with worry, but he stepped back. ‘Stand with them,’ he said, jerking his chin at the trio near the side of the ship. ‘And stay there.’

I moved reluctantly towards them, manoeuvring myself into the King’s shadow. I knew from experience that, come a battle, it would be the safest place to stand.

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