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What?
Sometimes you know there is a fate that you cannot change,she says, giving Sam a strained look over her shoulder.At times I see many futures, many paths, but other times, no. That is set destiny. That is the fated. That is when I know nothing can be done, no warning can be made.
Are you trying to warn me of something now?
She nods.
My heart jumps. Oh gods.What?
She just shakes her head.I cannot tell you what. But what I do know is that perhaps it is time, Maren, for you to tell the crew who you are. Tell them you are a Syren.
I frown.Why? They’ll want to eat me.
Her brow raises.And maybe you should let them. Do you understand my saying?
My eyes widen in fear.You think I should…
Tell them what you are and give them your blood, she says.That’s all I can say. But I promise you it’s not for nothing.
I swallow hard and stew that over as we reach the forecastle and turn around, slowly walking back. I see Ramsay at the aft with Thane and Crazy Eyes and I wonder what he would say to that.
Don’t worry about Bones, she adds hastily, following my gaze.He doesn’t get a say in this. He may have claimed you as his, but you are still your own true person with her own agency. Take his feelings into account but don’t let it sway you.
I find myself nodding.Alright.I glance back at Nerissa.Can I ask you something?
Of course.
Is my future with Ramsay? Or is it not?
She gives me a small smile that makes her metallic eyes dance.
“You already know the answer to that.”
* * *
I don’t sleep well that night. I’m in Ramsay’s bed and that alone should lull me to sleep, especially in the comfort of his strong arms, but I can’t stop thinking about what Nerissa told me. How I need to give the crew my blood and how they need to know what I am. I’m terrified that this fate before me is set in stone, made worse by not knowing what it is that Nerissa saw in that crystal ball.
I get up and Ramsay reaches for me in his sleep, his arm slipping around my waist. He mumbles something and I just slide out of his grasp, then lean over and brush his hair from his forehead, kissing him there.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper, smiling at the sight of him.
He mumbles something again, eyes still closed, and rolls over, breathing deeply in moments. He’s been having nightmares lately, where he wakes up in a cold sweat, whimpering, and I don’t need to ask what it’s about. It’s impossible not to have nightmares after what just happened to Henry.
I get up and leave his quarters, going up the stairs to the top deck, hoping the fresh air will bring me clarity. I walk along and look back at the helm to see it totally empty. There should at least be one person on shift tonight. Then I hear a low groan and I look toward the bow. I squint and realize I can see a figure using the head on the bowsprit, thankfully he’s more or less obscured at this distance. I’ll be avoiding that area at any rate.
I’m about to turn around when suddenly I feel a presence at my back and a smelly hand goes across my mouth. I immediately know who it is.
“All claims are off,” Sterling sneers in my ear, his other hand starting to hike up my shift. “You’re mine for the picking now, strumpet.”
In an instant I feel my teeth and claws sharpen and I open my mouth against his palm, biting down.
Hard.
He lets out a loud yelp as I chew through bone and sinew and nearly bite his hand in half.
“Bitch,” he growls, letting go of me, though now I’m not letting go of him, my claws digging into his arm, my jaw locked like a rabid badger, tearing at him.
He winds up his other arms and punches me square me in the face.
