Sea Wolf (A Compass Rose Novel, 2)

by Anna Burke

  It is my last chance for redemption.

  Chapter Five

  The chart room welcomed me into its cocoon of silence. I slid into my customary chair and stared at my hands on the table, unable to contemplate the course ahead. I needed to select the appropriate maps from their shelves. I needed—

  I didn’t know what I needed. My insides felt hollowed. All that remained were the cardinal points. They whispered soothingly, the magnetic field a second skin over my own.

  Ching. Miranda. South.

  The sea wolves did not seem worth it. What was wrong with continuing on as we had been, mapping the coasts, building up the ship, and enjoying each other’s company? Why had Miranda wrecked everything so thoroughly? I wanted to be enough for her, like she was for me.

  I also missed my mother. Tears slid down my cheeks and splattered on the tabletop. “Wait and see what she is made of before you make any big decisions,” I imagined her saying. “Don’t jump into anything.”

  I’d jumped all right, and I’d taken Harper with me. My relationship with Miranda played out before me like some sick film reel: Miranda, carving up my hand. Miranda, telling me I was just a tool. Miranda, walking Annie. Miranda’s whip. Miranda’s dismissals. Miranda’s lies. Miranda’s secrets. Miranda’s mutiny. Did the good outweigh these stones?

  She loved me, in her way. But she didn’t trust me. Her secrets came out because fate had exposed them, not because she’d decided I was worthy. Yes, I understood her fears. My loyalties had been split, though she could not fault me for that. And yes, I understood a part of her was protecting me from my role in the Archipelago’s slaughter, but that had not been her decision to make. How could we ever be equal if she resented me for the deaths of her former crewmates and friends?

  And the sea wolves. How many people had told me I had eyes like a sea wolf since signing on to her ship? Most thought the wolves were a legend, but Miranda had known differently. Maybe I was one; maybe I wasn’t—it was just another unknown in my genetic code—but regardless, Miranda knew how I’d been treated all my life for my heritage and my abilities. What had she said in our last fight? That I’d left a ship where I’d been shat on all my life to be second mate on hers long before I would have achieved that rank under Comita? If the sea wolves, whoever and whatever they were, explained my navigational abilities, I would be less of a freak. I’d sit easier in my own body. And Miranda hadn’t thought I needed to know.

  Miranda didn’t know me at all.

  And now she expected me to accept Ching Shih as part of her crew on our fool’s journey to the south pole, inciting Admiral Comita’s wrath, and risking everything for the faint hope that, what, our little crew could single-handedly bring about systemic change? Orca had been right. Miranda was insane.

  The door to the chart room opened, as I had known it would, to admit my captain. I took in her tired face, her scars, her warm lips, and her blazing eyes. I had a choice before me. Unlike previous occasions, this time I knew the stakes.

  “There you are,” she said.

  “I came to plot your course.”

  “That’s why you have so many charts out. I wondered.”

  I did not smile at her joke. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  But you’re listening too late.

  “We need to send Harper back to her mother,” I said. She eased into a chair across from me. The bloody line on her palm had faded to a brown stain.

  “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not? If we go off the radar, Comita will try to track us down.”

  “We’ll feed her an excuse. Sending Harper back will raise suspicions. Does she want to leave?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “It isn’t your decision to make.”

  I stared at her. The hypocrisy of her statement thrummed through my bones. I weighed a thousand pounds of anguish. “Miranda.”

  She flinched at the pain in her name as it left my lips.

  “At least give her the option to leave,” I said.

  “If she comes to me and asks, I will grant it.” She searched my face. “Do you . . .”

  “I can’t go back.”

  Never again would I see Polaris. I hadn’t been happy there, exactly, but it had been a home, of sorts, while I served under Comita. A home I’d thrown away.

  “I never meant to hurt you, Rose.”

  My vision blurred with more tears. I blinked them away. “What you meant to do doesn’t matter. I get it. You’re the captain. But I need more than that.”

  Her hands closed over mine and held them tightly. “I’ll give you what you need.”

  I wanted to believe her. I wanted, so desperately, to fall into her arms and let her reassure me that everything would be fine, that we would work this out, that nothing was beyond repair.

  “You can’t,” I said instead. “Not like this.”

  “What are you saying?”

  I swallowed. The words were larger than my throat, and I choked on them as I tried to force them through the raw wound of my mouth. “I can be your navigator. But I can’t . . . I can’t be more than that right now. I need time.”

  Her hands remained on mine, but the warmth receded. We were frozen at the table, trapped in amber by my statement. I longed to retract it.

  “Is this about Amaryllis?”

  “This is about you lying to me, Mere.”

  “I told you—”

  “And I get it. You have to make those choices, and I can handle that as your navigator. But it hurts too much like this.” The tears scalded my cheeks as they ran in torrents down my chin and onto the table, save for the torrent streaming down my neck and into my shirt. A briny pool formed between my breasts.

  Miranda’s tear-blurred face was stricken. Her scars stood out against her skin, and once more I had the sense they were not so much scars as hairline fractures, and if I pushed her too hard, she would shatter.

  “Are you ending this?” she asked.

  “I just need time.”

  “And I need you. I’ve told you that.” Her voice hardened, as I had known it would.

  “I—”

  “Are you asking me to prove myself to you? Because that isn’t what I do. You knew what you were getting into. You know what I am.”

  “Miranda—”

  “I’ve asked you, repeatedly, if you can handle being with me and being my navigator.”

  “And I could before I knew how much you’d lied to me!”

  “Nothing’s changed! And you should have guessed Amaryllis was alive.”

  “Don’t put this on me.”

  “Why not? You’re putting it all on me, and I’m not the only one in this relationship.”

  “You’re the only that matters, though. That’s the fucking problem.” I cleared my throat to rid myself of sobs. “Don’t you get it? It always comes down to your decision.”

  “I’m the captain. It isn’t like I want—”

  “Yes. You’re my captain. And I thought I could handle that, but I can’t handle being lied to, too.”

  “If you want to talk about honesty, maybe we should look at you.” She yanked her hands away from mine. “Have you proved you’re trustworthy? No. You routinely contradict my orders. You question everything. And Orca—”

  “Orca meant nothing!”

  “You sabotaged my relationship with my first mate.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I can’t look at her without seeing you on top of her. Fuck you for that, by the way. You’re the one with the boundary problems.”

  “So it’s my fault you won’t tell me anything about Ching Shih? It’s my fault you can’t accept I’m working to overcome years of Archipelago conditioning to be with you on this ship?”

  “And I’m working to overcome years of betrayal. Forgive me if I find it hard to trust.”

  “I’m just asking for time. I’m not—I’m not ending this.”

  “Sure sounds l
ike you are.”

  “Please, Mere.”

  Her lips tightened, and I hated the pleading in my voice.

  “Take your time then. Take all the time you need. But I can’t promise I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  With that, she turned and stormed out of the room, leaving me alone with my charts and the harsh sounds of my stuttering heart.

  ••••

  I moved my things to my room. Miranda wasn’t present as I gathered up my scant possessions, and I took one of her shirts with me. It smelled like her. Seamus watched me through slitted feline eyes.

  “Take care of her,” I told him. He turned to groom his tail. That would have to be answer enough.

  Time felt surreal as I deposited my pile of possessions in the small room belonging to the second mate. No private bathroom. No kitchenette. Just a hammock and a battered chest, a small sink, and the gray plex walls. I hated it. I tossed my clothes into the chest and shook out the blanket folded in the hammock, then laid it over Miranda’s shirt, ashamed at how much I hoped her smell would permeate the cloth.

  Nothing felt real. I hadn’t just broken up with Miranda. She hadn’t just threatened to leave. Everything that had happened over the past week had been a nightmare, and I would wake up, soon, to the sound of Jeanine’s sarcastic voice and the hum of a ship that did not contain Ching Shih. Where would Miranda even put her? The brig? An empty bunk? Would she at least put a guard on her?

  I had courses to chart and things to do, but I crawled into the hammock and buried my face in Miranda’s shirt, wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.

  ••••

  Harper found me, eventually. A hand stroked my hair and I heard her whispering to someone else in the room.

  “Is she broken?” they asked.

  “Shut up.”

  Orca. I raised myself from my fetal curl and blinked out of swollen eyes.

  “Captain’s called a meeting,” Harper said gently. “Nobody could find you.”

  “Do I need to be there?” I asked, my voice barely a croak.

  “Yeah, baby, you do.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “What part of ‘shut up’ is so hard for you to understand?” Harper said to Orca. Then, to me, she asked, “What happened?”

  “I . . . I think I broke up with Miranda.”

  I didn’t meet their eyes. An awkward silence fell.

  Orca broke it. “That explains her mood.”

  “I don’t care about her right now,” said Harper. “Baby, you okay?”

  I shook my head. She pulled my face into her chest and rocked me back and forth. I was cried out, but I sniffled, grateful for the comfort.

  “You did what you needed to do. That’s all we can do. And now you need to pull yourself together and get through this. I’ll be right next to you. So will Orca.”

  “For whatever that’s worth,” said Orca.

  “Okay.” I extricated myself from Harper’s bosom and stood. I stank like stress sweat, and my clothes stuck to my body. Harper grabbed a cloth from the small shelf by the sink, wet it, and ordered me to strip. I didn’t have the energy to protest as she sponged me down. As she worked, she murmured soothing nothings, and I let her voice wash over me.

  Orca averted her eyes as she handed me clean clothes. I tugged them on, splashed water on my face, fixed my hair, and took a shaky breath.

  “I’m ready.”

  “No, you’re not, but we’re here for you,” said Harper. And, sandwiched between them, I was marched out of my lonely quarters to Miranda’s council chamber.

  ••••

  Miranda, Kraken, Ching, and several other ranking sailors looked up at our approach. I steadfastly did not meet Miranda’s eyes. Ching—I refused to call her Amaryllis—stared at us from her seat beside Miranda. My seat. I sat beside Harper instead, and Orca took Miranda’s right-hand chair, as befitted her rank.

  I can’t look at her without seeing you on top of her.

  I fixated on the surface of the wooden table. I’d sat here when Miranda marked me, and through many meetings since. None had felt this painful.

  “Nice of you to join us,” said Miranda.

  She could be such a bitch when she was hurting. Answering would mean acknowledging the gibe, so I folded my hands before me and did my best to look attentive.

  “First things first. Some of you have sailed with Ching before. Some of you haven’t. Some of you fought against her.”

  Harper swore beneath her breath and flexed her hands below the table. I grabbed the nearest and held on.

  “I need you to put all that behind you.”

  This, apparently, was too much for Harper.

  “That might be a little difficult for those of us she personally tried to have killed.”

  “Harper—” Miranda began, but Ching cut her off.

  “You were never supposed to be harmed,” said the most feared woman in the Atlantic.

  “Funny how often that doesn’t work out.”

  “Harper,” Miranda said again.

  “Let her get it out.” Ching leaned forward and linked her fingers, giving Harper her full attention.

  “I saw what you did to our mining stations.”

  “Conditions weren’t exactly something to brag about when I arrived. Given time, I would have fixed that.”

  “Easy for you to say that now.”

  “True. Perhaps I should have left conditions at the mines for Comita’s daughter to worry about. Tell me, had you even given them a thought before my sailors brought you in?”

  Harper’s face flushed purple as she tried to stand. I dug my fingers into her hand and tugged her back down. “I’ll see you in the ring,” she said.

  Miranda interceded. “Amaryllis is under my protection. Any grievances you have against her and her past actions will be addressed through me. When not assisting, she will be confined to quarters for her own safety, and I have assigned a guard.”

  Good. That might make it harder for her to stab me while I slept.

  “Where are her quarters?” asked Orca.

  “I’ve had Zia’s old room cleared.”

  I didn’t know Zia, or where her room was, but I could ask Orca later.

  “Secondly, we’re altering our trajectory. We’ll finish up mapping this stretch, send in the report, and then let Comita know we’re taking an extended leave for repairs. That will buy us some time. Chief Engineer, will this be enough?”

  “Conceivably.” Harper matched Miranda icy syllable to icy syllable. “Completely accurate predictions are impossible where the admiral is concerned.”

  “We will resume the work when we return, unless circumstances demand otherwise. Navigator, Amaryllis will supply the coordinates. You will chart us a course. I understand the charts from the south are out of date. We won’t know exactly what we’re sailing into. That, however, won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

  “No, Captain,” I said. I was just “navigator” now, which is what I had asked for, but it ached.

  “Good. You will not need to work directly with Amaryllis, in recognition of your history. All correspondence will go through me or an intermediary. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Engineer, how are we on repairs?”

  Harper launched into a detailed explanation of the work that had been done, and the work remaining. Following her report, Miranda grilled the rest of the assembled crew on supplies and armaments. Ching listened to the proceedings with a neutral expression until Miranda began explaining the nature of our new venture. Then, she watched the reactions unfold around the table while I watched her, looking for signs of duplicity. Our eyes met twice. Each time, I glanced away.

  “With all due respect, Captain,” said the man in charge of inventory, “it’s a risky proposition without any guarantee of gain.”

  “There’s never a guarantee.”

  “The crew is used to raids, where there’s a chance of
spoils.”

  “And they’ll get a share of whatever we find.”

  He did not seem satisfied with her answer, but he nodded.

  “And if they blow us out of the water?” asked another sailor.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried,” said Miranda.

  The questions continued until the faces around the table seemed temporarily soothed from disgruntled to mildly curious. Perhaps this sort of thing happened all the time: Miranda appearing before them and suggesting the impossible. It took most of my concentration to prevent my face from seizing up again with tears.

  ••••

  The following weeks were among the most miserable of my life. The sections of coast remaining on our mapping mission were easy enough to navigate. I wished for a storm or jagged underwater promontories; anything to distract me from the crushing pressure on my chest. Harper did her best to cheer me up. I pretended it worked, for her sake.

  Sixteen days after Ching Shih reentered my life, Harper and Orca dragged me to the training room. The mat squeaked beneath my bare feet as I settled into a loose fighter’s stance. Harper leaned on the ropes with a better’s avid interest, and across the mat, stretching her lithe muscles, Orca smirked.

  “Ready?” She rolled her shoulders, shook out her arms, and held my gaze while I released a steady stream of air through my nostrils—to ground myself, not because I thought my nose might not survive the bout, though that did occur to me.

  “Like it’s ever mattered to you if I’m ready or not,” I said.

  “Fair.” She leapt forward and struck out with the heel of her foot, missing my thigh only because I scrambled backward. Orca pressed her advantage. I blocked her first punch and threw my own. It went wide, and I caught my balance in time to feel her palm collide with my ribcage. Cartilage groaned. Jeanine’s ravaged chest splayed across my vision. Her death hadn’t gotten any easier to process, either.

  “Don’t feel like you have to pull your punches or anything,” I said as my ribs protested against the singular abuse of breathing.

  Her response came in the form of a sweeping kick that knocked my feet out from under me.

  “Come on, Rose,” said Harper. “You’re embarrassing me.”