Page 24 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

“No one can eat your breakfast, Rueben,” Caspian said amiably, scraping the last of the stew from his bowl. I had barely touched mine, too entranced by the banter of the crew member with his captain. Was this sort of informality normal for ranked officers? “That gray mush is inedible.”

Rueben shrugged as if he was well aware that no one liked his breakfasts—an opinion with which I concurred—and Caspian looked down at my still mostly full bowl of stew. “Come on, Urchin. You should eat. The show starts soon.”

He turned and left the galley without a backward glance, and I was once again forced to jog to catch up to him. I couldn’t understand this male. Clearly he was callous and calculating, having kidnapped me when I was trying to help him. Yet at the same time he pitied my lack of music and sang to something in my soul and wanted me to eat enough.

I glanced up at the sky, which was now a deep purple above us. “Why are you being nice to me?” I asked, frowning at Caspian’s winged back as he walked ahead of me. The curious part of me was aching to study those wings, to see how they met the curve of his back and trace their lines to their very tip, but I kept my hands clutched firmly on the bowl of stew. “Why not just keep me in your cabin?”

“Would you prefer me to be cruel?” he asked, throwing the question back over his shoulder without stopping. We were weaving between sailors in various attitudes of repose, some sitting on barrels, others lying on the deck, all looking up at the sky.

“Well, no,” I said, feeling flustered. “Obviously.”

“Then why question my kindness, Princess?” He stopped abruptly near the wall of his cabin, and I thought for a moment he might send me back when he grabbed my hips and lifted me onto a barrel.

“What—” I spluttered, trying to catch my balance on the barrel and ignore the sensation of his strong hands against my hips, which lingered even though he had let go. He rolled his eyes and put a finger firmly to my lips and pointed to the sky.

“Just watch, Princess.”

I looked up, the bowl of stew growing cold and forgotten as the sky ignited in streaming light.

It was as if every star in the heavenly canopy had decided to fall at the same time, plunging toward the sea trailing tails of fire.

“It happens only once a month,” Caspian said quietly, as if speaking too loudly would somehow break the spell of the falling stars. “When the moon is new. I doubt you can see it from the Isles.”

“You can’t,” I breathed, still staring up in wonder. “At least, never this many. Never the whole sky.”

“Perk of piracy,” Caspian quipped, still speaking low in my ear.

I didn’t reply, choosing to watch the sky as the stars continued to streak past, their numbers never seeming to slow or dim. Eventually, the rest of the crew grew tired of the show, milling off to take their watches or sleep or play cards and laugh and drink.

Music picked back up from somewhere on board, and the sky dimmed as lanterns were lit again across the ship.

I finally looked down to find Caspian watching me intently, as if I might be the answer to some great problem in his life, if he could just figure out how to tap into whatever it was I could offer. He was leaning against the wall to his cabin, arms crossed over his golden chest in an unfairly statuesque pose.

I wondered again exactly how he had escaped with me, injured as he had been. His bruises had faded to a yellow brown, but he must be incredibly strong or incredibly determined to have gotten me out of the keep while in pain. He had clearly been injured before, if his scars were any indication, and he must have a great deal of tolerance for agony.

I realized I was staring at him as he studied me, and I coughed. “What?” I asked, picking up my cold bowl of stew and sliding down from the barrel.

He blinked, as if he had been lost in thought. “I’m wondering—” he began, before a shout from above us cut him off.

“Cas!” came the voice of Caspian’s second mate, who landed next to us with a thump that startled me so badly I nearly toppled over the barrel.

Caspian caught me, steadying me on my feet with a laugh. “More warning next time, Astraios,” he chuckled, grinning at my death stare. “The princess isn’t used to our landings.”

“Apologies, Princess,” Astraios said with a smooth bow and a roguish grin. I frowned at him, and Caspian raised a brow at his second mate, who straightened without dropping his smile. “Cas, there are sails on the horizon. Should I send a scout?”

Caspian sighed, sounding suddenly beleaguered. “Probably just a human trading vessel. They sometimes come this far north. Check it out, but give them a wide berth. They’re no threat to us, but I’d prefer we keep our distance.” He glanced at me, and I realized he was afraid I would cry murder in hopes of a rescue.

It would have been a good plan, honestly.

“As you command, my liege,” Astraios said with another wink at me. He bent his legs and flapped his great white wings just once, the leap launching him into the sky and across the sea.

But a word had snagged my attention, and I turned to Caspian in horror. “You’re their king. The Siren King,” I said, blanching as I took a step away from him.

“The one and only,” Caspian said, looking at me with a raised brow. “I thought you had gathered as much already.”

“I thought you were a pirate,” I accused, panic rising as I realized the full extent of my dire circumstances.

This wasn’t any random siren captain. This was theirking. Feared throughout, villain of every story I’d been told growing up. Although to be fair, he didn’t look like the villainous old king I’d imagined in my head.