I bite the inside of my cheek, and push open the door to the cabins.
Lanterns line the narrow corridor, their flames swaying with the movement of the ship and casting uneven light across the worn wooden floor. At the far end, the small glass window set into Sable’s cabin door spills a brighter glow into the passage.
“Maybe he’s in there,” I say, glancing back at Lark. Fear still clings to him, visible in the tight set of his shoulders, but he follows without hesitation.
I slow in front of the cabin door. My hand hovers over the latch. I am here for Nightglass, I remind myself. I’m simply bringing Lark to his father. Still, my pulse quickens as my fingers close around the cold iron and I push the door open.
The cabin is crowded.
Too crowded. Men fill the space shoulder to shoulder, packed in tighter than the room should allow. Whatever conversation they were having dies the moment I step inside. Some of them look hollow, as if something essential has been taken from them. Others watch me with open fear, shoulders drawn tight, hands clenched as though they expect me to unleash something I cannot stop. Something they cannot stop.
I scan the room first in search of Nightglass. Then, without meaning to, I look for Sable, but he is not here. I swallow, trying to ease the knot tightening in my throat as the door creaks shut behind us.
Nightglass stands near the far wall, half turned toward the entrance. He looks worn in a way I have never seen before, his posture rigid, his features pulled thin.
Before I can say his name, Lark slips free from my side. He crosses the cabin quickly and throws himself at his father. Nightglass drops to one knee and catches him just in time, arms closing around him with relief. Lark buries his face in his chest and breaks into sobs, his small body trembling.
“I’ve got you,” Nightglass coos, his voice low and steady.
There is something so achingly human in the way they hold each other. These men are not just pirates. They are fathers, brothers, sons, bound together by more than salt and duty, and by something darker that I still do not fully understand.
Around them, the shadows of most of the men fail to follow their movements. One stretches along the wall instead of staying at its owner’s heels, another drifts across the ceiling beams, untethered. My gaze tracks the way they linger at the edges of the lantern glow. Each time the light shifts, they pull back before moving closer again.
“I will bring more lanterns,” I say in a tremulous whisper, breaking the silence. I turn on my heel to gather the lanterns that are placed on the main deck and bring them in, leaving a few for Grim at the helm. When I return to the cabin for the last few lanterns, the conversations do not stop as I enter. Some of the tension has eased, and I thank the seas for it.
Now that I am sure they are fine, and Lark has returned to his father, Sable crashes into my thoughts again, dominating all others. As far as I’m concerned, he is not yet safe. I need to find him.
“Where’s Sable?” I ask in a voice that is steadier than it has been before, facing the crew.
Nightglass looks at me and gently squeezes Lark’s shoulders. His mouth turns into a thin line, clearly hesitating before he sighs.
“Lass, better not look for him. He is not himself—”
“Where—” I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly through my nose. “ —is he?”
If he didn’t leave me alone in my darkest moment, then I owe him the same in return. I don’t care what demons he is fighting or why he thinks he must go through this alone. I saw what it did to Lark. I can only imagine what it does to him.
“He’s on the balcony by the galley.” His words come out like a confession.
Ruffling the skirt of my gown into my hands, I practically fly through the narrow corridor until I reach the steps that lead into the galley. I take two steps at a time, then stumble straight into the galley. The oven is not lit. Pots clink against each other as the ship moves beneath us. Strange to see a room once filled with life so empty of it.
My gaze drifts to the familiar door, framed in oak. The salt-clouded glass panes do not spill any light through them, not like they did the first time I saw them.
Sable is behind that door.
What worries me the most is that there’s no light to protect him from the curse the sea has cruelly put upon him. I place my hand around the iron handle, but the heavy presence behind my back makes me freeze.
I know he’s behind me. The shadow I came to know, to care for, in the same way that he cares for me. I remember Harrow’s words. That I shouldn’t acknowledge them, as it keeps them away from where they should be.
From who they should be with.
Tears start to sting in my eyes as I take a shaky, slow breath. I have been so, so good at not admitting to myself what I realized the moment Lark’s shadow detached from his body.
That the ghost is Sable’s shadow.
“Don’t—” His voice echoes through the galley, distant yet near, soft yet thundering. I feel his presence closing in on me from behind, like a million tiny spiderwebs brushing against my skin, but I do not turn around. I do not give in to him.
I push down the handle and open the heavy wooden door. Outside, the sea breeze brings the smell of salt and whips strands of my hair over my face. I find him on the right side of the little balcony, clenching his hands around the iron rail. Hisposture is not straight and confident like it usually is. Instead, he is leaning over the banister, so tense that I see his muscles clenching through his shirt from where I stand.
