I raised a brow at her. “It wrestled me. I lost a lot of blood. The shark lost an eye.”
She whistled. “Well, I’m not good at words, but now you have a hilt with a shark tooth in it. Whatever. Blade’s sharp. That’s what matters. Wasn’t time to cold hammer it like I would have wanted, but it’s sturdy enough.”
Vidar and I both chuckled as she spun to continue her work.
“The tooth has nothing to do with it,” Vidar explained. “The hilt is iron. Most of the others are bronze. Thought you’d prefer the iron.”
I nodded, holding the cutlass by my side and testing the weight of it.
“It’s different than bone, that’s for sure.”
“You wield Lady Mary well enough.”
“I’ll wield anything that cuts.”
“You think Meridan will take one?”
“She will.” I slid the blade into my belt, getting used to the bulk of it on my hip. It was mine now and I would have to carry it as frequently as Vidar carried Lady Mary.
“It needs a name,” Vidar said.
“Does it?”
He smirked. “All weapons should have a name.”
“My weapons never had names.”
“Humor me.”
I rested my hand on the hilt, my thumb brushing over the shark tooth. The chaos at the doors of my sanity pounded against the walls of my skull, screaming for my attention.
“Nuvendi,” I said in a breathy tone.
“What is that?”
“It means ‘quiet’ or ‘silence’ in Seelie.”
“Seelie?”
“We can’t very well form words beneath the water. Underwater, it is only tones and clicks. We have a surface language. I do hope this blade brings the silence I yearn for.”
“Vidar stepped in closer to me. “It will. Every time you swing it, the world will be a little quieter. Bronze is blessed by Aphrodite. Or cursed, if you choose to see it that way. It will protect you.”
“You believe such stories? That a goddess cursed metal to kill something that offended her?”
“We are hunting a god who invades dreams. I would not be surprised if the stories are all true.”
Taking a deep breath, I nodded, squeezing my new weapon. “I need to talk to Lyla.”
“Let’s get it done, then.”
He immediately accompanied me back along the path toward the clearing. The men were busying themselves, always finding work that needed to be done. Nazario’s crew was integrating quickly with Vidar’s and there seemed to be endless bouts of conversation happening everywhere. When we arrived at Lyla’s cage, Boil was on shift to watch her. He had a mug of hemsbane tea in one hand that I could smell from ten paces away and his pistol laid across his lap.
“Cap’n,” he greeted as we approached. “Dahlia. I trust you’re feeling better?”
“Debatable,” I said.
“Should I fix you somethin’ to eat?”
