‘I won’t let it be like last time,’ I tell her.
‘Last time?’ she asks. Of course, she doesn’t know. She wasn’t there. ‘Fin, what happened at the Maelstrom? Why are you so afraid?’
‘We’ve got to keep moving,’ I say, shrugging off her concern.
‘We’re doing our best, Fin,’ Isagani says.
‘Our best isn’t good enough!’ I snap. ‘I won’t lose anyone else.’
Isagani looks down at their hands, but I can see the hurt in their eyes. Their palms are sore and blistered from rope work.
‘You’re supposed to be our captain,’ they say quietly, almost to themselves.
‘Iamyour captain,’ I say, staring at each of them.
‘I just saved your life up there, and you’re pulling rank?’ Ris says, incredulous. ‘You’re still keeping secrets from us – what happened last time you were at the Maelstrom?’
‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is it won’t happen again.’
‘These are our lives, Fin. I’m done putting my family at risk for this male pathos fuckery.’
Heat creeps up my neck. I want to tell them everything, to exorcise the memory of that horrific day. But the words die in my throat. I have to put it away. I have to do what I couldn’t then and be strong and lead my crew.
‘I won’t have insubordination on my ship,’ I tell Ris as she barges out of the quarters.
‘Big words for a pirate,’ she cuts back.
‘Go choke on a pickle.’
chapter thirty-nine
hanan
‘You are a treasure,Hanan,’ the queen says, kissing my forehead.
She helps me back to my room and into bed. Her strength is alarming, when mere weeks ago our roles were reversed. She tucks the blankets around my neck, swaddling me. ‘I’ll have the servants send up more food. You must gather your strength.’
‘What did you make me do?’ I croak.
‘It’s a symbiosis, isn’t it, Hanan?’
I feel drunk, like nothing really matters anymore. As though this is all happening to someone else. This is nothing like the drainings from before. Those were like a cup emptying as she gulped me down, time slowly allowing me to refill.
The queen smiles, a sharp and toothy thing. ‘Why do you think Paranish’s mainland is in a state of flux, while the seasonal isles are steadfast?’
‘Because you devour it.’ The words slip out, and they are acid on my tongue. I don’t know what compels me to talk back. ‘The farmer’s complaints of a famine. The harvest will never be plentiful because you cut the life in its prime. It’s never given time to grow fully. You drain life from everything, like—’
A parasite. I stop my tongue and the queen looms over me, holding the blanket tight against my body.
‘Everything must feed. The divine in their time and the salt of the earth in theirs. Speaking of which, I’ve been feeding Pocket.’
I start and sit up. The queen laughs, forcing me to lie back down. ‘You are so charming when you think you are unobserved. But shrouds have no pockets.’
I can feel my face flush, humiliation washing over me. The queen laughs at her own little joke. What has she heard? What has she seen?
‘I’m nurturing your talent, furnishing you with everything you could need to fulfil your potential.’ She strokes my cheek, and then turns away. ‘You have everything you need, right here.’
She opens my window and looks out into the world. I’m supine but I watch her expression as she surveys the rustics at their daily toil. I can hear laughter and chatter from the market below and in the distance, the bells of farmyard animals. Then she faces me again, fingering the woven blanket on my bed. ‘You like this?’ she asks and I look at the fading golden threading.
