I followed Finn away from the shadow of the old ship’s elevated hull until we found a rocky area where waving seaweed and fish swarmed.
“Dinner.” Finn gestured to the plants.
I ripped at a patch of the drifting weed, and Finn snorted a laugh behind me. He shot forward and put his hand on mine. “We must find the edible strains.” He brushed his webbed fingers gently over the patch, identifying a red plant with thin, vein-like leaves. “Gracilaria.” He pulled away a small bunch, then continued riffling through the foliage, finding a brown weed. “Sargassum.” He plucked some and handed them to me. “And we never rip it, we just take what we need.”
“Got it.” I nodded, caressing the weed with the same tenderness as Finn, but I had no idea what I was looking for.
I liked seeing him like this, the care and consideration he took toward the environment. He said his healing powers hadn’t returned until he met me, but he’d been picking up rubbish long before that. It proved he’d always had this shred of compassion, the part that cared for animals and the sea.
“How’s your wrist?” I asked as he selected more plants and handed them to me, his ornate bracers shining in the watery light
“I will be glad of some rest.”
“The sooner we get to the summit, the better. If the rest of the prophecy is in the box, you will no longer have to suffer.”
“Yes.” Finn stilled, his eyes looking anywhere but mine. I studied his face, desperately trying to read the words he wasn’t saying. Finn noticed and blew out a bubbly breath. He caught my chin, tilting my head so oureyes met, and running his thumb down the side of my cheek. “Let’s not talk about the summit or my father, and just enjoy our time together.”
When we returned to the ship, the others had strung up tattered cloth hammocks for each of us inside the hull. They’d artfully tied them between old pieces of the boat, so they formed a circle of beds. Around the hammocks, they’d lit an eclectic mix of rusty lamps, which must have been gathered from around the ship. Their trembling light bathed the space with a milky glow. No doubt, Pisceon had used a spark of Neptunus lightning.
Glacies and Aarna were lying in a hammock together, hands linked. It was wide enough for two, but just barely.
Edward sat on the floor beside one of the beds, trousers hitched above his leather boots, eyes gleaming, and a barnacle-ridden glass bottle in one hand. He’d found a rum stash and refilled his sack.
Skye lounged in the next hammock over from the princesses, and Pisceon rushed forward to collect the food from us.
“We didn’t know if you two would like to share.” He jerked his head at the hanging beds.
My cheeks heated, and I glanced nervously at Glacies, who pulled herself from Aarna’s embrace and smiled at me. “It’s okay, you know. Aigéan, and I have never been...”
“Oh.” I swallowed and cast my eyes over the hammocks. There were only five, so it looked like they had chosen for us, and Finn would be sharing with me.
“If you don’t want to, I can always share with the Siren girl.” The corners of Pisceon’s mouth quirked.
Edward scoffed.
“In your dreams.” Skye crossed her arms over her chest, her bed wobbling as she threw him a scowl.
I was too tired to care, so I crawled into the hammock and nibbled on the medley of seaweed Pisceon handed me. I preferred fish.
Finn and Pisceon began warding the ship, their beautiful voices echoing through the dusky sea. When they had finished, Finn moved toward our hammock, his tattooed chest flexing in the lamplight.
I climbed out so he could get in first and accommodate his broad torso. The bed sagged between the wood, and Finn settled in, his tail curling up the length of the bed. I hesitated, eyeing the space beside him, then I climbed back in—awkwardly—my legs tangled with the curve of his tail, and the hammock wobbled precariously.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as I elbowed him in the chin for the third time in thirty seconds.
After a few more agonizing moments, I twisted sideways, resting my arm and torso across his chest. One leg was cocked where his hips met a tail. I burrowed into his chest, breathing him in, and his thumb stroked my knee.
Edward and Pisceon settled into their swinging beds, Edward dragging a few bottles of rum along for the night.
The gentle glow of the lamps was comforting, and my eyes drooped as the current moved the hammock, Finn’s chest rising and falling beneath me.
“Let’s take a moment to remember before we go to sleep,” Aarna said, sitting up, and Glacies stirring beside her.
“Whatever do you mean?” Edward asked, still wide awake. As the Drowned didn’t sleep, he was our dedicated watchman.
“Let’s go around the circle and share one memory of thosewe have lost,” Aarna whispered, her ebony tresses fell over her shoulders, and the lamplight was reflected in her eyes.
“Layla and I were only a year apart in age, so when we were younger, we always pretended to be twins. We were competitive to a fault—” Aarna giggled. “Layla never wanted to be a warrior; she wanted to be a princess and wear lovely jewels, but then I started training, and she made it her business to get better than me. I never told her, but I think she achieved it.” Aarna smiled at the memory. “I can’t help but feel this makes her death my fault.”
