I licked my lips, savoring the taste of him and, as if it had renewed Vidar’s thirst for me, his mouth greedily fell on mine to share in my pleasure. He kissed me gently but deeply, reminding me one last time before we slept that I was his. My body. My heart. My soul. And if there was anything in between, he had claim over that as well. And I knew, without a doubt, that Vidar belonged to me just the same.
Do not sit upon a throne of ash
And call it victory
~Mina Lucera
Seventeen days on the sea was no feat for most of the men on the Weaver. They were pirates, hunters, and general deckhands who had spent most of their time on the water since they were young. In that time, Addison had stocked at least half of the men with weapons, prioritizing those who didn’t have a bronze blade at all and promising that she’d make better ones for those whose weapons were worn and old. If supplies allowed it, of course. Harpoons were tipped with small, bronze points and slugs were fashioned for the pistols and flintlocks. No detail was going unrefined as we started our journey into the unknown.
In the distance, halfway through the second week, Vidar and I watched the volcanic island chain of the Black Water pass us by. Memories of that place were grim, but without those horrid nights as children, our paths would never have crossed. Despite the ugliness of it all, I could not bear the thought.
I sat with my legs hanging through the railing, watching the water beat against the hull of the storm. Vidar had careened hisbeloved ship in Gilly Pine when he started doing business with their governor. Her hull was slick and scraped clean of barnacles and she was cutting through the water with excited speed. The fresh sails certainly didn’t hurt, either. I just hoped our journey through Daughter’s Pass and into more dangerous and unforgiving waters did not lead to our doom before we could make a difference. In truth, I’d never sailed through those waters. Swimming beneath them was one thing, but the ocean was a treacherous place on the surface.
Looking over my shoulder, I glimpsed the hold where Lyla had been sitting in the dark for over two weeks. The only light she was given was when someone ventured down there to give her a plate of food. Not that she’d complained. She grew up in the dark, after all. And as the hemsbane dried, the stench of it grew less stifling.
But her comfort wasn’t the thing that was on my mind. Sirens healed and her tongue would grow back, if it hadn’t already. Someone would need to refresh the wound or the harness would need to be strapped back onto her head to keep her silent, but the hassle of removing it every time she needed to eat seemed an unnecessary risk.
Still, despite what she was and what she had done, cutting out the tongue of another siren did not sit well with me, even if I was not the one to perform the act.
“Aye,” someone said. “I’ve been wondering, too.”
Vidar crouched down beside me, his elbows perched on his knees.
“What?”
“About her tongue. This is a long journey. I suspected she would need some… maintenance.”
I exhaled sharply, climbing to my feet. “I suppose someone should check on the progress of her healing.”
“Boil has been the only one willing to bring her food. Says she hasn’t moved in days.”
“You should have told me. I can bring her food if it makes the men uncomfortable.”
“You think lettingyoudo it makes me comfortable?”
“Then come with me. I would like to talk to her if she has the ability.”
“Why?”
“To learn. If she’s unwilling to speak, then I am sure Cathal will do what no one else seems keen on doing.”
Vidar groaned, hanging his hands on his belt, and then conceded, accompanying me into the hold where the barn animals, hemsbane, and crates filled the space, making it look much smaller than I was used to. It was less than a year ago that I’d been a prisoner in that same place.
Lyla indeed looked like she had not moved in many days. She was slumped against the back wall, stuffed in the corner like she was a dummy that someone had laid in that position. She was staring at one of the goats.
“It’s been more than two weeks,” I said to her as Vidar casually sat against a barrel filled with dry beans. “I suppose you understand why I’ve come to see you.”
Nothing.
I didn’t think it was possible, but Lyla certainly looked paler than she had before. The dark circles around her eyes had grown heavier. Her collarbones jutted out sharply and her legs looked so white, I could see her dark veins faintly beneath her skin. I looked around at the bundles of hemsbane and sighed, glancing at Vidar.
“I think the hemsbane is making her ill,” I said.
He shrugged carelessly and I didn’t blame him. Lyla didn’t deserve to be comfortable, but it did raise some concerns. I walked toward her cell and knelt, resting my hands on the bars.
“Lyla, we will have to check that your tongue is—”
“All it does is chew,” she muttered, still staring at the floppy-eared goat. It was sitting on a patch of straw, chewing its crud in acorner as far from Lyla as it could get. “But it’s had nothing to eat since yesterday.”
