She nodded rather than being completely honest. Yonlin didn’t need to know all the things that kept her awake at night. She wanted to protect him from those harsh realities as much as possible. Eira grimaced inwardly. She was becoming her older brother. Olivin had rubbed off on her too much, because all she could see in Yonlin was a younger sibling in need of being protected. Which wasn’t fair to him. Yonlin was a man grown and she wasn’t going to coddle him.
“You?” Eira asked as he stood and stretched. She knew the answer before he said it, given how he had been sleeping with his mouth hanging open, snoring faintly, in an adorably similar pose to his brother when she returned.
He nodded as well. “I’m going to go one deck lower to see the heavy guns. Puck promised to take me this morning. If Olivin wakes up and wonders where I am, will you tell him?” The young man’s excitement at seeing the larger cannons was palpable.
Even though she wanted him involved in the forthcoming decisions on what was to come next for them, she didn’t want to hold Yonlin back from something he would so clearly enjoy. Moreover, she didn’t know when everyone else would wake. So she said, “Certainly. Go and have fun.”
He practically skipped over to Puck’s hammock. Without the slightest amount of fear, Yonlin woke up the fearsome pirate, who—to Eira’s surprise and delight—agreed with much grumbling fanfare to take him right then. Adela’s crew wasn’t nearly as bad as the stories made them out to be.
Or perhaps this “soft spot” Adela had formed for Eira ran deeper and was far more sincere than she expected.
The clanking of wooden bowls and utensils in the galley at the bow was what ultimately began to wake the rest of them. Seeing her friends stirring, Eira made her way over to thegalley where breakfast was being passed out by a pirate she didn’t recognize. It was a grain porridge that had been cooked a previous day and rewarmed by Firebearers, likely hastily, given how inconsistent the heat was. Some sections of the porridge were so cold it was in globs. Others so hot it burned her tongue.
None of the pirates she knew made their way over to her, allowing Eira to claim one table in the corner for herself. She wondered if it was out of consideration because they knew their unlikely guests would want to sit together. Or if it was because they were still wary of growing too close to people whose fates were still unclear.
Olivin was the first to make it out of his hammock. Sitting across from her on the bench that was bolted to the floor, he swung his feet over and adjusted his positioning, spoon poised above the bowl.
“Tell me this is shockingly good and I’m going to be surprised at how well Adela’s crew can cook.”
Eira hummed, making a show of thinking for a moment. “You’re certainly going to be surprised.” She swore she heard a hasty prayer to Yargen before he took a bite.
Olivin chewed slowly, his nose scrunching in a look that accurately reflected the texture of the meal. He swallowed hard. “I’m surprised it doesn’t taste worse; I’ll say that much.”
“Bland, but there are far more foul things,” she agreed.
Olivin tilted his spoon, allowing a lump toplopwetly into the bowl before bravely taking another bite. Eira did the same. Adela had made it more than clear that on her vessels they should be grateful for whatever they were given. So Eira ate like it was the only meal she was going to have that day.
“Oh, Yonlin is down with Puck looking at the guns.”
Olivin nodded. “I heard him pestering Puck about it last night. If my brother blows us all up with his fascinations, I am very sorry.”
Eira chuckled. “There’s a dark comedy if, out of everything, what does us in is a friendly accident.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I so rarely am,” she teased with a grin. Olivin snorted.
“So far the rumors of the pirate queen’s bloodthirst seem to be overrated.”
“She has made it a point to regularly remind me that she is, graciously,lettingme—us—live.”
Olivin chewed for a long minute. “‘Letting’ you live? Would she really kill her own daughter?”
A sad smile crossed her lips. But itwasa smile. She would grin and bear her pain—smile away the bitterness, anger, and frustration. However cathartic it would be in a moment to rage. It wouldn’t change anything.
“She’s not my mother.”
“What? But I thought you said on the boat…” Olivin tailed off, blinking several times as if the truth was coming into focus. “On the boatIwas the one who said she was your mother and you never denied it.”
“Sorry for the deception.” She forced another spoon down, grateful for how long the gruel took to chew. “I didn’t want to lie to you—even a lie of omission. But I was worried that you wouldn’t leave if you knew the truth and I wanted to keep you safe. And we both know I am not the exemplar of safety.”
Olivin let out a rumbling chuckle that reached deep into the lower registers of his voice. It shifted her smile into something far more sincere. The sound of him was like a cup of honeyed lemon tea. Sweet and warm. Light.
“Well, here I am, wrapped up in it.”
“I know and I am sorry.” Her smile wavered as guilt washed over her.
“You did try to push me away.” He lifted his eyes from his bowl, meeting hers, freezing her in place. Holding her in thrall.
