Page 70 of A Curse of Salt

I let my ruined nightdress fall to the floor, stepping gingerly into the scalding water. I sat for a long time, letting it swirl and eddy around the island of my body, a stretch of sand in a reddening sea.

I should probably have scrubbed myself clean, scouring the smears of blood from my back, my neck, my chest. Everywhere those murderous hands had been. Perhaps then I’d forget how good it had felt to give in.

But I didn’t want to forget.

As I relaxed, thoughts began to filter through the haze, gathering around me like fish caught in the woven net of my mind. Things I couldn’t avoid any longer.

He’s heartless. I’d known it all along, had it ingrained in me like a story etched in wood. I’d been raised to fear him. And yet—

I want him. No matter how badly I wanted to pretend I didn’t. His kiss lingered on my lips, in the knots of my stomach. Something had changed between us, blurring the lines between what I knew and what I knew I couldn’t have.

It would’ve been so easy to die hating him. To curse his cruel hands until my last breath. But those hands . . . Heat crept over my cheeks as I thought of what his hands had done. They’d tugged me into a new world, one that wasn’t shattered by sea monsters and swords and life debts. A world I wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

It doesn’t erase the things he’s done. No – but it made it hard to think of him without aching.

I pulled myself out of the tub, water cascading from my body, knowing I shouldn’t dwell on such a dangerous precipice. I had to think of my family, had to remember that there was more to this world than the Blood Rose and her inhabitants.

Still, whether I wanted him or not, I couldn’t leave Sebastien to face a fever on his own.

When I sidled back into the navigation room sometime around midday, Mors was pouring over a large tome at the round table, his gold-ringed fingers skimming across its ancient pages. He glanced up, eyes warming when he saw me in the doorway.

‘Good afternoon,’ he greeted, closing the book.

I hesitated. ‘I just came to check on the King,’ I said, forgetting I shouldn’t have known about his worsened state in the first place.

Luckily, Mors said nothing of it. ‘I saw him just an hour ago. It is strange how long he’s taking to heal. Though I suppose . . .’ He shook his head, offering me a smile. ‘He seems to be doing well.’

I glanced at the door at the end of the room. ‘Oh, good.’

‘How’s your shoulder?’

‘Fine, thank you,’ I said, my words a little too rushed to be natural. A familiar heat crept from the tips of my ears to the apples of my cheeks, and I prayed he wouldn’t ask to look at his now-vanished needlework.

Oblivious to my unease, Mors nodded. ‘Glad to hear it.’

I hovered halfway between the door and him, wondering whether I should go, but there were so many questions still unanswered that I couldn’t help myself from slipping into the seat opposite him.

‘You really don’t know what that creature was?’ I asked, the tang of its rotten breath still thick in my nose.

Mors’ smile turned sympathetic. He tapped the cover of the book in front of him. ‘I was just doing some research. Unfortunately, sightings of such creatures are rare, and we know only a fraction of those who dwell in the deep.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ve come across monsters like it before, but never ones so resolved to kill. The important thing is that you’re safe now.’

‘You think any of us are safe?’ I asked. How could he say that, when my would-be assassin had slipped through the very walls of the ship they called home? A ship they were steering straight into the jaws of battle?

‘I can have someone stand guard outside your door, if it would make you feel better,’ Mors offered, and his eyes were so earnest that I almost said yes.

‘No – thank you, that’s not necessary.’ I shook my head in a manner I could only hope appeared casual, though I knew my traitorous face too well. How would I explain the next time I slunk out of my chambers in the middle of the night?

There won’t be a next time, I scolded myself.

A dip of concern wrinkled Mors’ white brows. ‘You can trust me, lass. If something is bothering you—’

‘It’s all the things I don’t know that bother me,’ I said, interrupting him before he could speculate any further. ‘I’ve been kept in the dark since I got here. If you’d all just be honest with me, maybe I could help.’

The old man’s expression eased into a smile. ‘You have so much of your parents in you.’

I wanted to curse him out for changing the subject, for evading my curiosity yet again, but my parents were the one thing I’d have given anything to hear more about.

I leaned forward. ‘Tell me about them,’ I pleaded. ‘Even Father feels like a stranger to me now. I want to know what they were like, back when you knew them.’

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