“Risa,” he whispers, his voice distant, muffled, as though I am underwater. “Look at me.”
“Risa,” he repeats, and this time it is enough to wrench me back into my body. Into myself.
His grip on my shoulder tightens, but instead of restraining me, it grounds me. Tension runs through him, similar to mine. His gaze flicks past me, over my shoulder, tracking the last of the crew as they retreat below deck.
“All of you,” he says, not to me, but to them. “You too, Lark.”
There’s more shuffling. The hatch slams shut somewhere behind us, and finally, silence. I cannot get myself to look at him. I look at his boots instead— his black, worn leather boots. For a moment, I wish the deck would open beneath my feet and release me into the sea. I deserve it for what I have done.
“Look at me,” he says again, quieter this time.
I try, but my eyes won’t focus. The boards tilt beneath my feet, the aftermath of the song still echoing in my bones.
“I didn’t—” The words tangle and break apart again.
“I know,” he cuts in and crouches in front of me. “Breathe.”
Nodding, I try to breathe. I drag in air that tastes of salt and iron. As I glance down, there are red stains on my gown. Panic rises in me once again. I don’t remember hurting him before I made him toss himself over. And I am empty of wounds.
“It’s your nose.” He pulls out a piece of fabric from his coat and gently presses it under my nostrils, then holds it out for me to see. “Your blood. No one else’s.”
I swallow hard and nod slowly. Sable shifts closer, putting himself between the open deck and me. Finally, I draw a slow breath through my nose and look up at him. His eyes meet mine, darker than the water below us. He draws a slow breath through his nose. Lets it out just as carefully.
“I’ll handle this,” he says as his thumb gently presses into my shoulder. “But not here. Not now.”
I nod because speaking still feels impossible with the lump that has formed in my throat. He doesn’t wait for anything more. His hand slips from my shoulder and settles on the small of my back, and gently guides me away from the railing.
But my body is so weak.
My legs give out once again without warning. I barely have time to register that I’m falling.
Sable catches me.
His arm hooks around my back, the other sliding under my knees in one smooth motion. I suck in a breath as the ground drops away, my weight shifting fully into his arms. The warmth of his skin against mine is comforting and confusing all at once. I curl my fingers into the fabric at his shoulders, gripping as though in fear of being let go.
Beneath the quarterdeck, the air is much warmer. He carries me down the corridor, past the holding cell. When he opens the door to a cabin, light spills into the corridor before us. Lanterns sway gently with the movement of the ship, their glow leaving no corner untouched. He steps inside and nudges the door shut behind us with his foot, then carries me to the bed and lowers me onto it.
I know this room. It’s his cabin. His bed.
His hands linger on me for a little while longer before finally letting go, as if making sure I’m steady before he straightens. For a moment, I just lie there, staring up at the low ceiling, my breath shallow and uneven. I still feel as though I’m outside my own body, watching this unfold through someone else’s eyes. The truth presses in from all sides, insistent. I know I won’t be able to keep it out forever, that sooner or later I will have to lower my guard and face what I’ve done. But not here. Not now.
Sable sits on a stool at the side of the bed, watching me. There’s a deep frown between his eyes. As I stare into them, relief settles low in my ribs, replacing the pressure that was theremoments ago. He looks worried, but his body is no longer tense. When he reaches for a cloth beside the bed and lifts it toward my face, I flinch before I can stop myself.
He stills immediately.
“It’s alright,” he says in a low voice. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
I nod and let my eyes drift shut as the cool dampness of the cloth brushes my cheek, my nose. His touch is gentle, as though he is cleaning a porcelain doll that will break if he isn’t careful enough. I try to focus on that. On the simple fact that he’s here, despite what I’ve done. That he didn’t make me into something I am not. That he understands. When I open my eyes again, he’s still seated beside me, pressing the cloth against my blood-soaked skin with the utmost care.
“How do you feel?” he whispers and studies me with a quiet softness that I haven’t seen since we talked on that little beach.
I want to answer him honestly, but how do you tell someone that you feel like you’re drowning, even though you’re above water? The truth feels too tangled to put into words…too complicated.
“Like I lost,” I mumble eventually, a tear slipping from my eye. “Like I lost to the monster.”
Sable lowers the cloth, his brows drawing together slightly.
“I’ve never heard of a monster,” he begins quietly, “who cares about its actions the way you do, Risa. You show empathy, constantly, to people who treat you poorly. That’s a strength, not a weakness. I would’ve thrown him overboard myself if I had the chance. I would do it in the blink of an eye, if I saw him lay a hand on you.”
