Page 31 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

“Were you at the auction for me specifically?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself. I have no interest in your kind.”

“And what exactly do you mean?” I slapped the railing.

He held my gaze. “That’s a conversation for another time.”

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me, anger searing through my veins. “No. I’d like to know now.”

Up close, he smelled of pine and honey, the same scent at the tavern.

He looked down at my fist twisted in his tunic, then back up to my face. “You know nothing of this world.” He pulled back, my grasp releasing him free. “You need someone far more patient than I could ever be to explain it. Got it?”

“Then at least tell me why were you watching me at the cave? What or whom were you looking for?”

He leaned his face to mine. “Entertainment was scarce. I was bored.”

I crossed my arm. “I’m glad my misery amused you.”

“It did.” He walked to the other side of me. “And you held the conductor’s stare like you were deciding whether to kill him.” Something almost like approval moved through his voice. “It wasn’t hard to miss.”

I looked away.

“You spent your entire life in a cavern prying shells for a king who never once asked your name.” He said it without cruelty, which somehow made it worse. “You know nothing of this world. No name. No history. Nothing.”

I lifted my chin. “I know enough. I know that one day I’m going to set my family free. I’ll find work. Earn wages. Save enough to buy swords and hire men who know how to use them. And then I’m going back for every woman that king left in that cavern.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“And what would you like to be called?” he asked.

I was surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

“Jina calls you Sis. That’s not your true name.”

I looked up at the stars scattered across the darkness, thick as pearls across a table. I had no answer. I had tried names before—Minyoung, Song, Wren—and none of them had ever fit.

“I don’t know,” I murmured.

He followed my gaze upward. A long quiet passed between us, the wind moving through his hair, the ship swaying gently.

Lightning cracked far away at the edge of the world, one thin silver vein splitting the dark. When it faded, more stars burned where none had been before.

“How about Star,” he said. “You seem to like them.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He closed his eyes, one hand pressing against his chest. When he opened them, something in his face had dimmed. What had I said?

“Besides,” I added. “That’s the best a pirate captain can do?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Would you prefer something less poetic?”

“I’d prefer a name that doesn’t sound like you named a pet.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t have a pet.”

“First time for everything.” I shrugged. “If I had a dog, I would name her Pearl. She would be white and beautiful.”