by Rebecca Rode
“Four. Five. Six.” My father’s voice was growing strained.
Barrie’s legs trembled so badly, I wondered how he remained on his feet. As his head arched with every blow, a wrenching cry tearing from his lips as new slashes appeared in his bloody back, I felt a piece of myself die.
“Nine. Ten.”
Barrie hung by his wrists, his trembling legs a useless heap beneath him. My father’s counting had quickened, and I realized that Dennis had increased his speed to match. Barrie’s back was a mass of bloody flesh now. My heart felt suspended in the air each time the whip flew backward, preparing for another strike.
“Eleven.”
Finally, Barrie raised his head and released a long, animal-like wail toward the skies. A deep chuckle emerged from Kemp, one he didn’t attempt to hide. Those behind him giggled like obedient children.
“Halt,” Father said, the sound barely squeaking past his clenched teeth. He stretched a hand to stop Dennis. The first officer straightened, looking relieved. The cat swung in his hand, flinging drops of blood onto the deck. Barrie’s blood.
“Please,” my friend whimpered. The rope binding his wrists was all that kept him upright. He was utterly defeated, body and soul. I’d seen older men lose consciousness before now.
But it wasn’t Barrie my father watched. It was Kempton. The two men locked gazes, their hatred searing across empty space until there was no doubt where either of them stood. The father I knew would never have a boy whipped to the sound of men’s laughter. By the expression on his face, Father was considering placing his own stripes on Kemp’s back. I would have happily strung the gun master up myself.
“The boy’s sentence has been served,” Father announced, to my relief. “Cut him down and assist him belowdecks.”
“But, Captain,” Kemp said. “He has four stripes left.”
My father whirled on the man so suddenly that Kemp stumbled backward and grabbed at the pistols on his belt. I’d never seen the captain so enraged. Not in battle, not ever. There was an alarming wildness to his eyes.
“Don’t cross me again, gun master,” Father hissed in a deadly tone. “Or I swear I will gut you here and now.” He looked about at the men, who’d begun to murmur. “Well? Cut the boy down and see to his wounds.”
Dennis repeated the order this time, but it was unnecessary. A few of the men jumped forward to help like eager mutts. Others hung back, uncertain of what had just occurred. Digby and Kemp exchanged a long look as the men gathered Barrie into gentle arms. The surgeon had several hours of work ahead of him. The wounds would need cleaning and bandaging, and Barrie would have to be watched carefully tonight. I’d already volunteered.
Barrie had been spared a little pain, and my father had shown mercy. So why did I feel so sick inside?
I released a shuddering breath and found my father’s gaze again across the deck. Some of the wildness had left his eyes, but there remained a fierceness that whispered I’d missed something important here.
Perhaps my secret wasn’t the only one he’d protected today.
My nerves felt as frayed as the edges of a storm-worn sheet. Paval wanted me to believe the best of my father, to trust him. But my silence this morning had cost Barrie dearly. Who would suffer next while Father and I hid in the shadows of our secrets? How long could I pretend that my father was precisely who he said he was—yet did I dare confront him again if it meant risking banishment?
That moment hadn’t arrived, not with Barrie’s punishment and Errick’s memorial service today. But I was tired of waiting for answers that might never come.
It was time to find out the truth about Father’s past for myself.
That evening, when Father retired to the quarterdeck to speak with Marley about our heading, I left my corner of the cabin and retrieved Father’s secret chest. It opened silently. The bag of gold coins still lay tucked inside, though it appeared smaller than I remembered. I hefted it in one hand and realized why—it was about half the weight it had been before. What could Father possibly have spent that much coin on while at sea? Or had he hidden it elsewhere for safekeeping?
Disturbed, I returned the coin bag to its corner and dug through the rest of the contents. Maps, a watch, a few pieces of KaBann silver. Nothing that proved a history of piracy. A few pieces of folded parchment at the very bottom. I shot a glance at the closed door, feeling the seconds tick by, and decided to take the chance.
The first was a missive addressed to Father. I didn’t have to read far to know who had written it. I grabbed the other letters and scanned through them, anger rising with each word. The woman who’d given birth to me clearly had no regard left for her former husband. Each missive felt more urgent than the last, more demanding. She wanted me returned to her as if I were some valuable foal Father had stolen from its rightful owner. As if she hadn’t flung me aside like a worthless piece of rubbish.
A single sentence on the last page caught my eye.
You hide our daughter away, but I would present her to the world. I resent that you’ve taught her to be ashamed. She deserves to walk with her head high, to take pride in who she is just as I do—not spend her life cowering in the shadows, defeated and guilty. Give her the opportunity to choose for herself.
The last line reminded me too much of my own words to Father, that last day in Hughen. That realization bothered me just as much as this woman’s disparaging tone with a man she’d once claimed to love. But they were both just as wrong as ever. I wanted the opportunity to be what neither of them wanted—a sailor. A captain. Free.
With a sigh, I folded the missives carefully and returned them to their place. Nothing here proved that Father was a pirate. A mixture of emotions battled inside. Disappointment. Relief. Frustration. A heavy guilt that I’d sought answers this way. Anger that he’d forced me to this in the first place.
Trust him even when the rest of the world doesn’t, Paval had said.
If anyone deserved to know who Father was, surely I did. But he hadn’t left any answers here in the cabin. Father was too smart for that. He probably suspected I would dig through his belongings for clues. He hadn’t trusted me before, so why would he change his mind now?
I stared at the chest’s contents a moment longer, letting the hurt sink deeply into my heart. Then I grabbed the money pouch, dumped a few coins into my hand, and stuffed them into my pocket.
Trust went both ways, and I had a debt to pay.
I stood in the hold at midnight, waiting for Aden to arrive. The watch had just changed and our group was asleep, Dennis and my father included. Darkness filled the hold, save for the gas lamp in my hand. A candle would have been better as even this felt too bright, but open flame was strictly prohibited belowdecks. Although I’d spoken with Aden down here once before, this time my skin felt abuzz. The very air encircling me seemed to whisper that this meeting was the biggest risk I’d taken yet.
It’s just training. Nothing has changed.
That felt like another lie.
Aden stomped down the ladder, obviously unfamiliar with stealth. But my irritation fizzled when he approached, casting shadows in the low light. His shirt was streaked with black. He’d spent the watch cleaning out the guns under Kemp’s direction. By the look on his face, it hadn’t gone well.
“I don’t know why your father likes that conniving son of a—er, Kempton.” He scowled.
I couldn’t hide a chuckle. “Too highborn to curse now? Maybe we’d best start your lessons there.”
His frown faded. “My mother often says I swear like a seaman. She’d be horrified to see me now.” He shrugged. “No, it’s because I respect your father’s judgment. He must see some speck of competence in the gun master, or he’d have sent him off long ago.”
It wasn’t Kemp’s skill that had gotten him the post. It was more that he commanded the respect of the crew—respect tinged with a bit of fear. A balance that had worked well for the past two years. In fact, Barrie’s lashing had been the first in mo
nths. The men were usually quick to obey and skilled at their work, two attributes that meant good leadership, as my father often said. But Father didn’t know what Kemp did to his enemies, and I didn’t dare utter the words. Not now, with Kemp watching for the slightest excuse to expose me and take the ship. I decided not to tell Aden that we’d already cleaned the guns last week.
The thought fled as Aden watched me, shadows from my gas lamp bouncing across his face. That expression was back, the raw one from earlier. He watched me as if nothing else in the room existed—not the barrels of stones and bags of rice behind him, nor the scampering of tiny rat paws hiding from the light.
Even now, after a day’s worth of distance, I was painfully aware of him. He’d drawn closer now, and I had to look up to meet his gaze. His frown was gone, replaced by a wistfulness. Like he waged a battle in the silence of his own soul. I wanted to lift my hand and caress his face to assure him that he wasn’t alone.
Panic slapped my mind in a wave of wakefulness. I yanked my gaze away. This boy seemed honorable enough, but he also had the power to destroy me.
“You mentioned your family,” I managed, then cleared my throat. “Do you think your mother worries about you?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes you just bring things out of me.” He smiled grimly.
I frowned.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you more. I do. But the less you know about this, the better it will be for you if—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “If something happens.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t concern yourself. We’re two days ahead of schedule now, thanks to your father. I’ll be gone very soon, and then everything will go back to normal for you.”
Right. I couldn’t remember what normal was anymore. Even if I managed to secure a future on the Majesty after our arrival, something would be missing. Something I couldn’t admit had ever existed in the first place. Something very, very dangerous.
“So,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “You’re the teacher. Where do we start?”
I’d planned a lesson that would force more details from him. I hoped he wouldn’t see through it. “Music. It’s a big part of life on a ship.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re singing me a song?”
That was laughable. I could sooner hold a handful of water than a tune. “Hardly. The men would suspect something if you suddenly knew all their songs. But you should know some, especially island tunes. They’re known for their music. Have you ever played the carrigan?”
He stared at me blankly. “Does it have strings and a bow? If it’s similar to the viola, I can probably play it.”
Far from it—carrigans were dried reeds fashioned into rough flutes. He really hadn’t traveled much. “The viola?”
“Most people choose the violin or the cello. I thought the poor, ignored viola could use a voice. Besides, it’s deeper and feels more… mournful somehow.” He actually flushed.
It was so endearing, so unexpected, that I had to will myself not to stare. “It would be better to pretend you don’t play anything, then. But try to participate in their music. Learn the songs.”
“I will. But first, you handled today’s… situation… very well. I feel terrible for Barrie. I hope he heals quickly.”
I grimaced. I’d checked on Barrie on my way down here, and I’d heard quiet sobs in the darkness. The boy wouldn’t sleep well for weeks. “It’s the way of things. Most men have cat scars on their backs.” Not me, of course. Yet another injustice.
“It’s all gotten so complicated. This voyage was supposed to be quick and uneventful.” He released a long breath. “I shouldn’t have brought this up. Let’s talk about something else.”
I folded my arms. “Well, we’ve discussed your clothing and your gambling issues already, as well as your interesting musical talent. Perhaps it’s time to discuss your obvious arrogance.”
“One of my finer qualities.” He grinned. “You’re terrible at small talk, you know that?”
“I had a poor teacher.”
Aden made a kind of gurgling noise that turned into a cough. It sounded like a sorry attempt at covering a laugh. He sat himself down on a pile of bags and patted the spot beside him. “Tell you what. Let’s discuss you for once.”
I sat, putting a full bag between us. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“Actually, these lessons were intended to teach me about sailors in general. That includes you. Being an only child must be nice. Nobody to compete with, no expectations or roles to fill.”
I didn’t bother to hide my laugh this time. I had more expectations than anyone. Men and boys weren’t expected to be anyone but themselves.
“I’m serious. This life of yours is so unique and carefree. And your father is proud of you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I see it when he looks at you.”
I blinked. Father was a kind and responsible captain, but he rarely acted like a father with me. And I’d certainly never seen him look proud of the things I did.
“A Maritime History of the World,” I said.
“I don’t follow.”
“My favorite book. You told me yours, but I didn’t tell you mine. I’ve read it over thirty times.”
“A scholar,” Aden murmured. “Interesting.”
“The best captains are scholars.” It came out before I could stop it.
There was a moment of silence. When he finally spoke, there was awe in his voice. “You want to be a captain. Sail your own ship and lead a crew.”
It sounded foolish when he said it aloud, but I kept my gaze steady. My father would retire in the next twenty years. It made sense that his son would inherit the vessel.
Aden nodded. There was no doubt in his eyes, just acceptance.
“I want to discover islands that have never been charted,” I said, watching him closely for a reaction. “To meet the cultures I’ve read about, and study history. I’ve heard that they eat insects in Honnicker. Don’t even cook them—they just pick ’em up and shove them in their mouths. It sounds revolting, but I want to try it. I want to try everything.” The truth of it burned in my chest. I’d never admitted this to myself before, much less said it aloud. “But it’s not likely to happen.” At least, not while King Eurion had a vendetta against everything I was. And here I sat, baring my soul to one of the last people I should be speaking with.
It was just so easy to be myself with him, utterly and completely. I didn’t even feel that way about Father these days.
“I can feel how badly you want it. I hope it happens for you.” His face was infuriatingly blank. I couldn’t read a thing.
“It’s just a dream. I need to make other plans—preferably far from Hughen, because we won’t be returning there anytime soon.”
“You don’t mean that,” Aden said. “You aren’t the type to accept things as they stand.”
That had me speechless. “What?”
His wry smile returned. “I know more about people than you think, Lane, and I know determination when I see it. If you wish to be captain, you won’t be swayed until it happens. Nothing else will ever be enough for you. And I admire that, especially in someone who didn’t have that attitude drilled into them from birth by expensive tutors.”
He’d moved closer at some point, and now we sat right next to each other. We didn’t touch, but I could feel his warmth extending across the space between us. If I leaned over just an inch…
Nay. I was tired of all this—the lies, the pain. The pretending. The doors slammed in my face, jeering that everything I wanted was beyond my reach.
“Drilled into them from birth,” I repeated bitterly. “Because I’m so lowborn, I shouldn’t have dreams at all.”
“No, because you dare to dream and it’s refreshing.”
I didn’t have a retort for that. We sat watching each other for a long moment. Then he raised his hand, slowly lifting it to my face. His fin
gers hovered there for a moment, just inches from my skin. He brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen into my eyes.
His touch sent a shiver down to my boots. My mind screamed at me to run from this, to hide. That a world lay between us, and that was how it had to remain.
His hand dropped, and he rose to his feet. “I, uh, should probably get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He fled before I could gather enough air to reply. His footsteps pounded up the ladder, much faster than they’d been coming down.
I stood, my legs still shaking, the skin on my face burning where he’d touched it. My body felt exhilarated, like I stood in the nest without a harness during a violent storm. I’d never felt so utterly and viciously alive.
Was it possible to live both dream and nightmare at the same time?
I was about to leave when I noticed something white and flat on the bag where Aden had sat. A fold of parchment. It must have fallen from his pocket.
I picked it up with trembling hands. The creases were yellowed and the edges bent, which meant Aden had carried this around for some time. The parchment felt smooth, soft, not coarse like my father’s books. I cupped it in my hands like gold. Dread and excitement pulsed through my body, and my head felt light.
Footsteps on the ladder. Aden had realized the parchment was missing. There would be no time to read it.
I slipped it into my pocket, smoothed my hair, and turned toward Aden.
But it wasn’t him. Dennis stood there, bleary-eyed and somber, the scar on his forehead a dark slash in the shadows. “There you are. Your father’s looking for you.”
My heart dropped to my feet. Had he discovered our plan to meet at night? But why send Dennis to fetch me when we could discuss his concerns in private? Surely he trusted me that much.
“Aye,” I mumbled, and began to step around him. But he moved to block my way.
“Lane,” he whispered. “A serious charge has been made. You’ll want to distance yourself from all this.”
