Page 72 of A Curse of Salt

‘You were lucky then, I suppose,’ I said.

Mors tilted his head, white hair brushing his narrow shoulders. ‘Lucky?’

‘You found your calling. Adventure.’

‘Adventure calls to us all,’ Mors said. ‘I simply chose to follow.’

Chose. I almost laughed. I’d forfeited my right to choose the moment Leviathan pulled out of the bay. I’d chosen my sisters, chosen the unknown, chosen life over death. It was a privilege to call survival a choice.

I gazed down at the map unfurled between us, admiring the way the land spilled into the sea, the isles that rose from her waters. Mors was right. Adventure called to me; it always had. I could only hope for a day I, too, would be free enough to follow.

Mors rose from his seat and rounded the table, laying a hand on my shoulder. The simplicity of his touch made my eyes burn, so warm and reassuring that I felt somehow closer to home.

‘You remind me so much of your mother sometimes,’ he said softly.

I knew that I looked like her, but the gentle conviction with which Mors spoke made me wonder just how close they’d been. Made me think the connection I felt to him went more than skin-deep.

I stood to meet his embrace, letting his arms fold around me, letting the smell of parchment and ink drive away my doubts. He lost all his heirs in one that day.

‘She was your sister too, wasn’t she?’ I murmured into the crook of his shoulder, my eyes welling with tears. ‘You’re Oren’s missing brother.’

Mors stroked my hair. When he pulled back, his eyes were glistening. Gold, too. ‘I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid what you’d think of me. That you might despise me.’

‘Despise you?’ I echoed.

Mors wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. ‘Helping your mother escape made me an outlaw. I couldn’t go back – couldn’t claim my place as Oren’s heir, even if I tried. I’m useless to Bane, and he knows it. As much as I want to, I can’t save you from him now.’

I shook my head and sniffed. ‘I never would’ve asked you to do that.’

Mors looped his arms around me and once more I let myself rest against my uncle’s chest, soaking in a feeling I thought I’d never have again. Comfort – home.

22

My breath billowed as I burst out into the cold, a crimson blur against the startlingly white world. Had it not been for the gentle, swirling downfall of snow, I’d have thought I’d stepped into a painting. It was so soft, so serene, a shifting mosaic of sea foam and sapphire blue.

I watched the flakes spiral downward, smiling as they nested among the curls of my hair and the fur trimming of my cloak. Pirates dotted the deck, huddled around barrels of rum, playing cards and cursing the frigid air.

Aron’s voice was loud and bracing against the crisp air as he, Mors and Una sauntered towards me, their boots crunching through the fine layer of frost.

‘First snow,’ Una remarked dully, squinting up at the bright grey sky.

‘No reason not to enjoy it, eh?’ Aron chirped, kicking snow at her skirts.

‘Ye’re dead,’ she growled, lunging at him. Aron dodged her attack, bolting behind the mast as she sent handfuls of snow flying. Their laughter rang out as they darted across the deck, launching snowballs through the air.

‘Hello,’ Mors said warmly.

I took in the guarded look in his eyes despite the smile on his lips. There was something wary there, something trenchant that made me wonder how much more he was keeping from me.

My uncle. There was something hollow in the word when it belonged to King Oren, too. The revelation paled in comparison to how much Mors meant to me already. King Oren could never be my family.

‘Good afternoon,’ I said, a mirroring smile creeping over my lips. I opened my mouth to say more when the navigation room doors swung open and Golde and Sebastien emerged.

My head snapped towards the quarterdeck. Three days it had been, and still my entire body tensed at the sight of him. Three days since I’d woken in his arms, in his bed – since he’d drained himself to heal me.

I tore my eyes back to the water, my heart beating faster as Sebastien and his first mate’s footsteps descended the stairs. There was something sour about the mood they brought with them, casting a gloom over the main deck, dampening the noise of Aron and Una’s snow fight.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Sebastien was there, his dark gaze slipping curiously between Mors and me.

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