Please.
“He would’ve done the same if roles were reversed,” I rasp, filling the void with words so he can’t bask me in pleasantries I don’t want to hear.
Don’t deserve.
“Is he, ah ...”
“He’s well.”
My chest loosens a little, my sigh of relief hewn from somewhere deep and dark and bruised.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Though he keeps asking about his cape.”
Shit.
“And you.”
I look away, swallowing the ache that has risen in my throat.
He grips my shoulder, his hand warm and heavy. “You did the right thing today.”
“People are dead.” The words come out flat.
“And sea serpentshave thickplatedskulls.”
I look at him, frowning.
“Vanth was aiming for the head,” he grinds out, “but thatboyhasn’t traveled the Shoaling Seas and seen one of their skulls up close—prized for their impenetrability. If he’d struck between the eyes, that bolt would’ve bounced right off, riled the animal, and we’d all be dead. Instead it struck close enough to the heart that it’s fair to assume you saved most of our lives today, not just Zane’s.”
I clear my throat.
The reproving stares of the crew won’t burn like they did, but there is no surge of relief. Just more death on my hands.
He pats me on the back and weaves between the beds, checking his injured men. Like a thief in the night, I head for the stairs, rising from the dense humidity of the infirmary, though the smell of sweat and blood still plagues every breath. I doubt any amount of swabbing will lift the morbid veil that now seems to haunt the ship.
I walk onto an eerily silent deck, the static night clinging to my tacky skin. The topside lanterns must have burst, leaving only the smile of the moon to guide my path across the warped floorboards.
There’s a heavy splash not far from the ship, and moonlight bounces off the glassy wrinkles.
Seems the sharks are still hanging around.
I give the prickling backs of my arms a brisk rub as I make for the aftermast, ignoring the sound of my howling stomach. The thought of breaking my fast without Zane feels more hollow than this hungry ache. It’ll be worth it tomorrow when we share a meal together—a thought I cling to with aching fists, trying to ignore the tremble.
Beginning the steady incline up my ladder, I pull myself above the noxious smell of sun-baked blood, absorbing the sip of familiarity like the lifeline it is. Perhaps if I manage to fall asleep, I’ll wake tomorrow and realize this day was just a nightmare.
I wrap my hand around the next rung, lifting myself up, and the notched piece of wood comes away with a splinteredsnapthat mimics my heartstrings.
Shock snatches my voice as gravity grips me, and I plunge, arms flailing, yielding to the punishing pull.
Time seems to slow. Stretches so thin I study my nest cast in the moon’s silver glow, stark against the black velvet backdrop.
It looks like Stony Stem …
Such a strange thing to notice while I’m plummeting to my death.
I almost laugh, wondering why my fear has tucked tail in the corner while mania rears her wild head and gnashes her teeth at the smiling moon. Something that should probably concern me, but I can feel the floorboards rushing at my back.
I’m all out of beats.
