‘I won’t leave you,’ I say instinctively.
I rub her hands and blow on her fingers, and she whimpers as they come back to life and warm up.
‘Where am I?’ she asks, eyes turning wildly in her head.
‘Our vessel is calledSaltswept. You’re safe now.’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name’s Ris,’ I say gently, leaving a long pause for her to introduce herself. I show her the blue ribbon tucked in my hair and make the gesture for she. At first I think her hands are too stiff, but she looks at me agog.
‘Hanan,’ she finally says.
She looks less bedraggled and brought back from the brink. I look at the chemise, hanging and steaming as it warms and dries. It is dark and simple, of good strong material. The quality looks to be another Spring Isle farmstead, but there are no flourishes or embellishments. Her voice is cut glass in a way only native to nobility. I try to imagine her in a fine gown, a golden halo of thread woven through her hair.
‘Why were you out there in the middle of the ocean?’
She pauses, biting her lip. ‘I... angered the queen.’
I tense. So my instincts were right: she is a noble. No wonder she has no ribbon and was confused by my self-identifying gesture.
‘What happened?
I remember the way she grasped for my hand in the dark.
‘I had to . . . leave.’
I stare at Hanan and then the baby, who is still looking peaky. ‘I can’t believe she would leave you and your daughter to die,’ I say quietly.
She seems uneasy and unwilling to say more. I’ll have to tease this tale out of her slowly, for she’s clearly been through much. I can fully believe the Bastion treated her poorly, but I need to know if she still has love for the monarch.
She casts her eyes down. ‘Her will is divine.’
There’s something in her tone that makes me wonder, but I can’t pull at that thread too quickly.
‘What is your child’s name?’
She smiles. ‘She’s called Raina.’
I follow her cue, despite the fact that us common-folk don’t decide identifiers for others. ‘And her father?’
She shakes her head and turns her face away.
I squeeze her hand. ‘I’m sorry. That’s like my Biba.’
She looks at me curiously. ‘You have a child?’
I nod. ‘There’s a couple of kids on board actually, although none as young as your Raina. She doesn’t look well. I think you should try to feed her.’
She stiffens and shrinks away. ‘I can’t do that.’
I sigh, getting up from the bed. ‘I can see you’re not in good shape. With a little food and rest, I’m sure it will all be right again.’
She stares distantly in Raina’s direction, but I can tell she isn’t truly seeing the child.
‘Why are you helping me?’ she asks. ‘I’m nobody to you.’
I try to smooth the distraught expression that she must read on my face and sit back on the bed. ‘You were in trouble. Why wouldn’t we try to help?’
