“Lark made the decision on his own.” He imparts through gritted teeth. And that is all he seems willing to say. He waves a hand as if to dismiss me. Pirates and their ridiculous traditions. Lark is not old enough to understand the consequences of his actions. Surely they can go against his decisions when they arelife-threatening. Surely no one wants that boy's death on their hands.
Cursing, I make my way back to the quarters. My once-beautiful gown is now soaking wet and freezing as the wind batters into me, causing my whole body to shiver. Relieved to finally escape the elements, I open the door to the quarters and close it behind me.
“Lark?” I carefully make my way down the narrow corridor, leaving a wet trail behind me. The boards creak under my bare feet, each sound feeling too loud in the quiet after the storm. He’s in none of the smaller cabins, nor is he in Harrow’s room. There’s only one hiding spot left.
I find him sitting underneath the wooden table in the captain’s quarters. He’s pressed as far back as he can go, knees drawn up tight to his chest. His arms are wrapped around his shaking body, fingers clutching at the fabric of his sleeves as if he’s afraid to let go.
For a moment, I don’t speak. I lower myself slowly, careful not to scrape the floor or startle him. His breathing comes fast and uneven, shallow gasps that hitch in his throat when he notices me move.
“It’s me, Eryse.” Not wanting to scare the boy, I carefully crouch down next to him, then crawl underneath the table to sit with him. I make sure to keep a small distance between us, close enough to be there, far enough away so that he does not feel crowded.
His gaze flicks to my hands, then back to my face. My chest tightens at the sight of him.
“I thought it would be only fair to give you my name, as you have given me yours.” I begin, keeping my voice low and steady, so as not to startle him. He doesn’t stop shaking despite my attempts at comfort.
“I am not a sea witch, you know.” I look ahead of me, watching him from the corner of my eye. He perks up a little. “But I think witches are pretty cool. The captain’s sister is a sea witch, did you know that?”
Lark furrows his brows and tilts his head, as if turning the thought over in his mind. After a second, he gives me a quick nod, some of the tension in his shoulders easing.
“I like her. She’s very nice, unlike…”
“Unlike her brother?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips, careful not to push it too far.
He blushes and quickly shakes his head. Of course, he would never insult his captain. Pirate loyalty and all that. “No, that’s not what I wanted to say. She’s just so soft, while he’s …not. Not anymore.”
I nod my head in understanding and shift my weight until I’m sitting more comfortably on the floor. The table leg presses awkwardly into my back, and I cannot sit fully upright, but I don’t mind.
“Well, he’s a pirate.” I counter with a shrug, teasing him in the hopes of distracting him from what just happened.
“Hey! I’m a pirate too, you know.” He straightens his back at once and points a finger at me. “Pirates are good. We’re one big family.” He shakes his head, as though it’s pointless even saying it to me. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re a girl.”
A laugh bubbles from my throat before I can stop it.
“And you think girls can’t be pirates?”
“I have never seen a lass on one of our ships.”
With that, he crawls from his hiding spot and picks up a small cutlass he must’ve dropped earlier. He hesitates for just a heartbeat, then shoves it into the mount at his waist. I lift the hem of my dress and follow him out. His chest puffs with pride as he gets to his feet, standing taller than before. A soft swelling of relief appears in my chest at the sight of his reappearingconfidence. He’s young, but it seems like he’s already learned the values that guide him, the rules that keep him standing even when fear tries to drag him down. I can only admire that in him.
“I was chosen for this when I was eight. The girls back home were very impressed.”
Home? I don’t know why, but I've never paid much thought to the fact that pirates would actually have somewhere they consider home. My father certainly didn’t tell me about this. I thought they considered the sea their home and their ship. My heart begins to ache at the thought of this boy having a mother and leaving her behind at such a young age. The reverse of my own childhood.
“I am sure they were.” I smile softly at him, then gently check his arms and shoulders for wounds by running my fingers over the skin there, my touch light and careful. “Do we have to see Harrow? Or are you okay?”
“I am okay. The Sea made sure I am.” He says, smiling as though it's nothing to be afraid of or worried about.
So he was wounded. The Sea of Renewal has cured him. With a smaller bank of memories, he is more at risk of losing something valuable. I hope the sea showed mercy and took an unimportant one.
His head swings to the side as the door to the cabin opens. The planks squeak as Nightglass enters the cabin and lets out a breath he’s clearly been holding for a while.
“There you are, kid. Come here.”
Lark doesn’t hesitate. He runs straight into his open arms, and Nightglass hugs him tight, one hand cradling the back of his head as if to make sure he’s safe. He seems to inspect the boy for wounds just as I did mere moments ago.
“I’m okay, Dad. You can stop,” he says, eyeing me through the side of his vision, his head firmly pressed to Nightglass’s chest. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Hold on a second. Do my ears deceive me? Dad?
