The light was dim, but not terribly so. I found it easily.
Malia slipped a key from her apron and opened the chest, handing me a dagger.
It did not come from someone living on the streets. It contrasted the poverty-like cottage around us. Instead of bland colors and outdated designs, the golden dagger hilt was bejeweled. The sheath was made of the finest leather and embedded with dazzling jewels. I pulled it out, noting just how shiny the blade was.
It had never been used.
“Where did you get this?”
“My father gifted it to me when I was a little girl. Said I should always keep it in case someone tries to hurt me.” She shrugged as she continued preparing food. “Discovered quickly that I wouldn’t need it. There are worse ways to be hurt than with a physical weapon.”
Ouch.I watched her for a moment, the internal struggle waging.
I need to warn her.
I followed her. “The twins are coming after you, Malia. You need to–”
“I know, Alaric.” She didn’t cut me off often. “It’s none of your worry. So why don’t you just enjoy a meal before heading back to your crew, alright?” Malia touched my arm, looking at me in her strange way. “Thank you for warning me… I had a feeling they’d find me.”
“Why, though? What did you really do to them?”
“We can talk later.” She returned to preparing food.
I hesitated. She was set onnottalking about this now.
So…
“Can I help in here?” I asked, almost…embarrassed.I was a whaler.
Didn’t do domestic things like this.
Yet, I felt I needed to.
I wanted to.
I owed her so much.
“Sure.” She motioned for me to cut a pineapple. We worked in a content silence, something that was… different.
Much to my surprise, Ilikedit.
When Malia passed me to check on the soup boiling over the fire, she hesitated next to me, then leaned closer.
“What are you doing?”
“You smell like the sea.” Her voice was thoughtful.
I raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“I like it.”
I stared at her, watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t even looking at me, just lost in her thoughts. She continued humming and returned to whatever she was doing, and I realizedthisis what was killing me. She was fascinated by me, and it was showing. Could this mean…
I shook my head and quickly turned my attention to the pineapple. I’d never cut one of these before, but, because she didn’t say anything, I assumed I was doing it right.
I was used to fileting fish or skinning a sea animal, not cutting fruit.
“Here, try this. I think it’s missing something.” With spoon in hand, Malia blew on it before reaching up and putting it into my mouth. It was such a foreign move, I froze. I wasn’t used to being fed, wasn’t used to being a kitchen, wasn’t used to having a pretty girl care about my opinion on such a domestic topic…
