If there was anyone I would have believed, it was the woman standing next to me. She wore grief like a second skin, though when others looked at her, all they saw was her stoicism. If they knew her, they would be awed that she was still standing upright. That she lived.
“I’ve spent so long courting vengeance that I don’t know what’s left in me,” I confessed.
Maybe it was the sea air or Billy’s ghost haunting me, but once the words were out, I knew they were right.
And behind that fear lived a new fear–that I would lose what will to live if I couldn’t protect Rose.
Inu’s chest rose with a long breath.
“I still think about going back.” She said quietly. “Sometimes I can’t breathe because knowing he still lives is an injustice that dishonors the memory of my family. I should have killed him before I left, but I was a coward. Every time we dock, I have to convince myself to stay. To not go back.”
I’d long suspected that was true. Her melancholy grew whenever we neared shore. More than that, I knew what I would do. The man who killed her brothers, her father, her mother–who displayed their heads as warnings on the day he forced her to marry him–lived.
That was an injustice I struggled with, not correcting it more than once.
“All you had to do was ask, and I would see it done,” I said.
“I know,” she said simply. “That is why I never asked.”
We let the air sit between us, the sound of the waves lapping against each other in their own quiet story. It was easy to run to the sea. People were complicated and took more than they gave. The sea, though–it took, but it always gave back tenfold.
“I don’t know if there is a secret to letting go of the past, but I do know that the reasons to are loud,” I said.
As if the universe believed in signs, Rose’s laughter spilled across the deck before Oscar erupted in expletives. I turned to see them sitting with Val and one of the crew members at the square table while the crew looked on. They’d been playing all fours for an hour now, and Rose was becoming rather good at it, though it’d be nice if she stopped betting things from my collection.
Lantern light swayed as she scooped up her winnings, and Oscar slammed his cards down.
“Loud is an understatement,” Inu said, a lilt to it that was subtle yet gave away her amusement.
“I’m glad you both found common ground,” I said.
“She is loud and entitled, but she also has a warrior’s heart,” she said. “It was strange to see their world. They both fit into it like gloves.”
That was an understatement as well. Even though Oscar proclaimed to hate London society, he was at ease in it. Navigating social norms like a skilled sailor. Rose though–it was her home. She was exceptional among sharp comments and veiled judgment.
“A world neither of us could fold ourselves into,” I said.
“Do you ever worry she will tire of the adventure? That she will go back to what feels safe?” Inu asked.
This was the part of Inu that people rarely saw. I would have told her I was honored that she’d allow me this vulnerability, but that would have only ruined the trust she was giving me. I knew her question was rooted in her own fear.
“Yes,” I answered truthfully. “If that day ever comes, I hope I remember that it was all worth it. Even if she tires of me, this ship, the sea–it was all worth the crippling loss.”
Inu nodded.
There must have been something in the night air because the pressure in my chest forced new words out, confessions that haunted me.
“If I lose her, then I’ll lose myself again,” I said.
The faintest corner of Inu’s lip twitched.
“You could have picked someone less reckless and impulsive to put your sanity into,” she said.
Despite the worry growing with every mile, I released the ghost of a small snort of laughter.
“Aye,” I said. “If I had any sense at all, I would have, but I don’t think I chose her-she chose me, and who was I to argue with her?”
“A man with limited sense,” she answered.
