Page 93 of A Curse of Salt

Sebastien pushed the hair back from my face, stroking it gently, gingerly. As if I were fragile, as if his rough hands could turn me to dust and wind and send me sweeping away. He tilted his head, a curl of his hair brushing my cheek. I stared at him, feathering a fingertip over his furrowed brow, his jaw, his strong, slightly crooked nose.

‘I want to remember you,’ I said, eyes tracing every detail of his face I couldn’t touch.

His lips ghosted up the curve of my nose, placing a kiss to my brow. ‘I’ll remember you until I’m dust.’

The softness in his voice was like wrought iron around my heart, constricting until I thought I, too, might disintegrate.

When I glanced up, his eyes were black mirrors of the night. And when he kissed me, I tasted the ocean on his lips. But whether they were his tears or mine, I couldn’t tell.

I disentangled myself first, when the pain in my chest felt like it might rip right through me, wiping my cheeks as I backed away, my heart beating savagely in my chest.

Don’t, it begged me, as my feet pulled me to where Theo waited. I swung myself over the railing, ropes rough beneath my palms. Don’t go.

But I’d seen what time did to lovers like us. Seen it in Golde, in Mersey, in Aron. I’d be old and grey, and Sebastien would stay just as he was. Just as I wanted him, until I’d hate him for wanting me, too.

I gripped Theo’s arm for support as my foot found the first rung of the ladder and I began my descent, letting the hull eclipse my last glimpse of the crew. I didn’t look back. Not once. Because if I did, I’d do something foolish, like love him and change my mind.

28

The ship rocked gently, her opalescent sails sighing with the wind. I drifted to the bow, watching the afternoon sky bleed snow, the lapping waves swallowing each swirling flake. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon, the same purple-grey as my icy fingertips.

Sailors milled about, the strangers whose hands had hauled me on board in the middle of the night. Their conversations were quiet, dull, and I ached for noise. The ship smelled of fish and sick, a reminder that not every vessel had magic to maintain it. I closed my eyes, tasting the frost on my lips, letting it numb me. I couldn’t shoulder the weight of my thoughts any more. My guilt, my despair, my regret.

Time yawned ahead of me, two weeks of a journey I wanted no part of. Two weeks before my sacrifice would mean anything, before I’d be able to hold Felicie in my arms and throw myself at the feet of a king I wanted nothing to do with. Until then, all I could do was wait, and wallow.

The days were at their shortest. The Blood Rose would be closing in on her destination. Soon, my crew would be fighting for their lives, thinking there was something noble in deaths so raw and reckless.

I listened to the sound of the ropes creaking as the ship swayed steadily, imagining they were chains. I rubbed my wrists, reminding myself that I was the free one, that it was Father imprisoned, my sister likely bound to the throne. The waves swept below, a distant rumble of thunder rolling through me. The storm couldn’t come soon enough.

‘Did you hear me?’

I jumped at the sound of Aberdeen’s voice. I glanced sideways at her wish a sheepish smile. She was so different now – not just in the dirty white shirt she wore tucked into navy skirts, or the way her hair had come loose from its braid, dark strands falling about her face. Her skin was darker, her features more defined. She was stronger, yet . . . softer.

‘Sorry,’ I murmured, suddenly aware of my dishevelled appearance, my red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair, and the coat that shrouded me, my leather shadow.

‘I said I know you’ve been through a lot, but we’ll be home soon,’ she said.

‘You mean the capital,’ I corrected. That place would never be my home.

‘Right.’ Aberdeen pursed her lips. ‘I don’t see how you could complain about joining a court as its princess.’

I stared out at the sea. ‘You know me better than that.’

Aberdeen shrugged – a gesture so profoundly unlike her it made me pause. ‘All I know is you’re safe now. That’s what matters.’

I sighed. She’d come all this way, I reminded myself, just for me. How was she supposed to know I didn’t want it?

‘There’s a storm coming,’ my sister said after a while. ‘We should head inside.’

I was too weary to resist as she led me to a cabin tucked away down the hall of the quarterdeck. It was small and cramped, two bunks shoved up against either wall and a window that let in the sound of the sea. I was grateful for the privacy at least. I couldn’t have endured the noise of a berth, surrounded by strangers and voices and a crew that wasn’t mine.

The spare mattress was thin and the sheets stiff, but the bed was still better than the one I’d had at the cottage. I collapsed on to my back, staring up at the timber ceiling, knowing I’d get no sleep.

Evening sank into night. Aberdeen stretched out on her own too-short bed, her back facing me, toes dangling over the edge. I stared at the space between her shoulder blades, the darkness blurring as the candle beneath the window flickered.

Rain lashed against the glass as the storm picked up, pitching the ship from side to side. Its wooden hull hurled against the tempest, but I scarcely felt it. The real storm was the one wrenching me apart from the inside. Shadows stole through the window, closing around me as I curled up in Sebastien’s coat. Even now, even from here, he warmed me. Shutting my eyes tight, I buried my head in its folds, exhausted.

Sleep evaded me still. I fidgeted, trying to find comfort in the unforgiving mattress, but there was something hard wedged into my side. I fumbled through the leather and tugged out the worn copy of Mors’ book.

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