Never had I heard Meridan say such a thing. We could not afford to be vulnerable or soft.
“Kroans have been executed for less,” I scoffed.
“Yes, but I think we both know that you’re not as Kroan as you once were. Not allowing yourself a moment to truly fall apart might be one reason madness has plagued your people for so long.” She reached out, putting her hand on mine. “I’ve learned that humans fall apart quite often. And then they wipe their tears and they learn to walk again.”
“It sounds like you admire that about them.”
“I cannot weep, but… sometimes I wish I could, for our sisters. Even for ourselves, sometimes.”
She glimpsed the helm where Vidar was finally pulling himself away from the wheel and surrendering it to Nikolai for the night. I watched him walk down the steps and circle around to his cabin, disappearing behind the door.
“With someone like him, I imagine you can be at your weakest and still not fret over anything. He’ll protect you.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I will keep watch over the water tonight. I can see even better than you can in the dark and you know it. Perhaps you should give yourself a night to be weak. You will not get any other in the days to come.”
I turned to Meridan and smiled faintly. “You’ve gotten quite good at advice lately.”
“Was that good advice?”
I frowned. “It sounded rather certain.” I pushed off the railing and straightened my hair, composing myself. “If nothing else, I owe Vidar an explanation.”
“For what?”
“I cowered from his touch when we left the island. In a way that would cause anyone alarm. Since then, we’ve barely touched each other. We’ve barely spoken.”
“Because of your dreams? Have they truly affected you so much?”
“They’ve certainly stayed with me. I am thankful I was liberated when I was lest there be nothing left of me. I can alreadyfeel there are pieces missing. Pieces Akareth took. Left too long in that state, I fear I would have become…” I cut myself off.
“Lyla?” Meridan said.
“Yes.”
“Do you think there is anything left of her to salvage?”
“I believe she never had a chance to be anything more than what he made her. I selfishly don’t want to think hope is lost for her.”
“That is what makes the two of you so different. Somehow, you see things others don’t. I see a monster in that woman. You see a spark of light buried under tar and mud.”
“I see me,” I confessed. “Killing her would be giving up on what I might become. If there is no hope for her, there is no hope for me.”
“You won’t become that. You have far too many people willing to fight to prevent it.”
“Lyla had no one,” I sighed. I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. “I don’t have the energy to talk about her tonight.”
“Then sleep. Or don’t,” she said slyly. “Either way, go get some rest with Vidar. He’s had a long day as well.”
I leaned over, kissing Meridan on the side of her head before I headed across the deck to the captain’s quarters.
Break me. Break me.
Mend me anew.
~Kole Ilrik
I entered the captain’s quarters with quiet steps, latching the door behind me before I turned to look at him.
He was leaning over his desk looking at sketches from his journal, a steaming cup of hemsbane tea next to him. His shirt was on the chair beside him leaving all of his delicious, sun-tanned skin exposed. He’d also removed his bracer along with his glove and false fingers like he was getting ready to sleep, but I preferred him that way with his flaws on display. Flaws that illustrated a struggle we both overcame.
He looked up from his drawings as I closed the door behind me, his eyelids heavy. I approached the desk, glancing over the sketches he was so diligently studying. He spun one to face me and upon the parchment was a woman, thin and gaunt, with a long, black tail, a head smooth of hair, and bony limbs strung with lean and unnerving cords of muscle.
