The Girl from Everywhere (The Girl from Everywhere #1)(58)

“He didn’t say. Just don’t do it. Unless you want him mad at me.”

I sighed, but I hadn’t been planning on leaving anyway. At least not yet. I nodded out at the ocean. “Any luck?”

“Oh, lots,” he said, grinning. I checked the bucket beside his feet; the only thing in it was seawater. “All of it bad.”

“I know how that feels. Here,” I said, slipping the dead fish into the pail. “It’s only a little mangled.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Rotgut pulled up his line to check the bait; the hook was empty. He put on a fresh piece of squid. “I ran away from home once,” he added, almost cheerfully.

“What?”

“I suppose technically I’m still running, since I never went back. That’s why you want to learn to Navigate, isn’t it?” He cast his line. “So you can leave us.”

I leaned on the rail. “Don’t try to guilt me.”

“I’m not.” He was quiet for a while, both of us watching the painted wooden bobber. “Even though we’d never, ever see you again.”

I pursed my lips. “You just said you’ve done the very same thing.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t regret it. Of course, that’s what life is. Gathering regrets to mope about in your old age.”

“Is that what they taught you in your monastery?”

“Nah, I didn’t learn that till after I left. Trouble is, once you leave it’s too late. You can’t come back. You particularly.” He checked his hook again: nothing. “So I would just figure out first if you’re running away, or running to.”

“Running to what?”

He snorted. “I guess that’s your answer.”

“You know, I haven’t made any decisions yet,” I said, annoyed.

“Okay. When you do, give me a chance to say good-bye before you go.” Rotgut dropped the line back into the bay.

The afternoon sunlight was heavy on my shoulders, so I went below to change. The air was stuffy in my cabin, and I was grateful to swap the silk dress for my shirt and trousers.

Back above, I watched the surfers out past the reefs, lithe and tan, flying effortlessly ahead of their white wakes. The sun was harsh in the sky, and it scattered on the water like shards of broken glass. Unbidden, my mind revisited the events of last night, and then skittered away from the embarrassment of it all, then of course back again, like a shark to a carcass. What a mess. I pulled the pendant of my necklace back and forth on the chain, and my eyes went to the lei. It had fallen in the night and now lay in a heap on the deck, wilted and withering.

The choice before me was no clearer in the light of day. Although if Blake made good on his threat to turn us in, perhaps the choice had already been made. In a way, it would have been a relief not to have the option. And yet . . .

I couldn’t deny the temptation. In fact, it was easy to make excuses; I’d read the history. The monarchy was already in decline. Much of the island was owned by foreign interests. Even Blake had said it: the kingdom of Hawaii was already disappearing. Perhaps we were even meant to take the money—perhaps that history had already been written somewhere. And if it was supposed to happen, who could blame me?

The red flowers, sacred to Pele, lay at my feet. Creator, destroyer. I knew exactly who would blame me.

And then, as though summoned, came the voice from the pier. “Miss Song?”

Blake was standing at the bottom of the gangplank, holding his hat in his hands. He’d replaced the black mourning ribbon on the band with a blue that matched his eyes. “May I come aboard?”

My pulse quickened, but I had to know what brought him. Back at the stern, Rotgut was still fishing. It wasn’t as though I was leaving the ship. I beckoned Blake up the gangplank.

“You look well,” he said to me.

“Did you come to check after my well-being?”

He pursed his lips. “After the behavior of your ‘tutor’ . . .”

I blushed; I couldn’t help it. “You have the wrong idea.”

“I know.” He ran his hands along the hat brim, smoothing the ribbon. “But what’s the right one? I was convinced you were conspiring with the league, but it appears you were in fact conspiring against them. Thievery, my father said. What did you want with that old map?”

I swallowed. Denying it would be foolish at this point, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. At least, not all of it. “I . . . my father needs the map. Your father is willing to sell it if the league forgives his debts.”

It was his turn to blush, but he did not lower his gaze. “And what is the price?”

“It is . . . quite high.”

“Must be, to outstrip my father’s debts. And every penny they get, they’ll use to further their goals.” He rubbed his chin with one ink-stained finger. “So you were trying to steal the map instead. I’m sorry I interfered. If I’d known, I would have helped you.”

“You hate your father so much?”

Blake hesitated. “I cannot condone his actions.”

Hope rose in my throat. I took Blake’s arm and pulled him close enough to whisper. “You can still help. I’d be willing to pay you to—”

“Please, Miss Song. I would need no pay if only I could find the map. I looked this morning.” He shifted on his feet, still playing with the brim of his hat. “I have no right to ask, especially after my accusations, but if you could see your way to appeal to your father . . . ?” My laugh was bitter, and he nodded sadly. “I deserved that.”