Silence.
“Say it, Malia. Please.”
“I can’t. I can’t ask that of you.” She shook her head then, then added, “What do you really want me to say, huntsman?”
“You’ve fallen for a whaler,” I whispered and she snapped back, yanking her hand free of mine.
“No, I’ve fallen for the huntsman, the one who leaves a trail of blood and horror, the one who cares so little for the life of something so large and beautiful, why would he care for the life of something so small and insignificant like me?”
I froze, realizing the weight of her words. “I do care about you. I would do anything for you.”
“Except walk away from whaling.” She frowned. “You are a whaler. Always have been, and always will be.”
Then she shook her head.
A silent moment passed.
She took a breath, as if searching for a change of topic. “Come, Alaric. I have to show you something.”
With the tension still thick in the air, she led me to her bedroom.
I froze.
What was she doing? But Malia searched under her bed.
Too dark.She couldn’t see anything.
“What does it look like?” I asked, kneeling next to her. My voice was gentler than it had ever been.
Even after she rejected me, I couldn’t find it in me to be angry at her.
Because I understood.
Understood that we came from two different worlds. With pasts that haunted us.
But couldn’t we work things out?
“It’s just a small wooden chest,” she said. I found it easily.
After opening the small chest, Malia pulled out a small, worn pouch and carefully untied it. From inside, she drew out a delicate necklace—a chip of whalebone, rough but polished, dipped in deep blue paint. At its center was a faded dark star-shaped marking.
My eyes narrowed the moment I saw it.
Every whaler knew that crew. “That’s the mark of the Black Star fleet.”
She looked up at me, surprised. “You know it?”
I nodded slowly, voice low. “Not many do anymore. That crew was notorious—drunken nights in every port, riotous living, brutal on their men and even worse to the whales. A cursed lot.”
Malia traced a finger alongthe chipped bone. “My mother never explained it to me. She just gave it to me one day and told me to keep it close.”
My jaw tightened. What had Malia’s mother kept from her? If Malia’s mother was a noblewoman, what was she doing with a necklace from the lowest of all the whaling crews? “That fleet was lost at sea long ago. My parents argued about my father wanting to join them. It was all I ever heard. Then the ship sank. They say a whale drove its head into the side of the ship, ending its life and the madness. It was good when that ship sank, because the arguments between my parents ended too.”
I held out my hand and Malia placed it inside. “Why would your mother give you this?” I asked. “Do you think she was in love with one of those whalers?”
Malia’s eyes flashed, a mix of hurt and indignation. “No, no. She was too noble—and vain—for that. And she loved my father–then my stepfather–as far as I know.”
She swallowed hard, her voice softening. “I think she remarried so quickly because she couldn’t bear the grief of losing my father. He was a good man. A kingly man.”
