All the Stars and Teeth(23)
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bastian leads us to the ship’s hull, and though I knew already there were no other souls aboard, I’m still unnerved to see for myself that there truly is no crew. It’s a small ship, but Keel Haul is still a ship, and I’ve never known a ship to sail without a crew.
Just what did he mean when he said that, without him, the ship would stop sailing? Somehow, magicless though he is, Bastian has a ship that can sail entirely by his sole command. And though I know he won’t tell me how, during our journey together I intend to find out how that is.
At least the lack of a crew means Ferrick and I each have our own cabin. They’re tiny rooms with only a hammock hanging from the ceiling, but I don’t mind; surrounded by the sea, I can hardly think of sleep.
“Have you anything for me to wear to bed?” I ask Bastian, who frowns from his position in the doorway.
“I’m not accustomed to bringing princesses aboard Keel Haul.” He’s hardly apologetic. “Can’t you wear what you have on?”
I lift a brow. “This is a ceremonial outfit I just killed a man in. So no, I won’t be wearing this to sleep, thank you. And all I have beneath this dress is skin I’d prefer to keep covered, considering I’m on a pirate’s ship.”
While Ferrick’s pale skin darkens to crimson, Bastian’s expression contorts into feigned horror.
“Keel Haul may be ferocious, but she is still a lady. I would never dare plague her sensitivity by having you parade around naked.” Bastian says the word as though it sours his tongue, yet amusement twists the undercurrent of his tone. “I’ll find you something suitable for now, and you can grab something more fitting when we reach Ikae. It’s a port town off the coast of Mornute.”
“I know where it is.” I try to ignore how my stomach flutters with the same eager anticipation I feel when the palace chefs bake fresh ginnada. Of course I haven’t been there, but I know all about that town from Yuriel and Aunt Kalea. Home to the finest jewels and fashion, it’s a tourist town I’ve always wanted to visit. My aunt brings me gowns from there each year, and they’ve quickly become my favorites. The items they produce are lush and wonderful, though it’s not a town known for being affordable.
I give Bastian the once-over: his scarlet frock coat is impeccable and the fabric thicker than any you can find in Arida. It’s even finer quality than I’d originally thought, with tiny slivers of golden threads stitched around the cuffs. He would have had to pay off a royal tailor to get a coat with golden trim and the royal emblem embossed into the cuff links—that, or he stole the coat. But his tan pants are also hemmed and tailored to perfection, and though he lives on a ship, his scruff is meticulously trimmed and styled. It’s no wonder he managed to pass himself off as an adviser—his aesthetic is commendable. Especially compared to Ferrick, whose emerald blazer, along with his shirt, is far too loose, and his pants too tight. It makes his shape that of an upside-down triangle. He’s dressed like he’s taken his clothing straight from a shipwreck.
But as much as I’d love to parade around Ikae shopping with Bastian, the late summer air already cools with the threat of the changing season. We’ve only until the end of summer before Aunt Kalea’s to move to Arida and accept soul magic.
“We shouldn’t waste time,” I say. “Let’s set sail straight to Zudoh.”
Leaning against the wall, Bastian flourishes a hand, moving it as he talks. “Trust me, Princess, I’d love to do that. But remember when I said that getting to Zudoh wouldn’t be so easy? They erected a barrier around their island when they were banished. We need a way to get around it, first.”
Beside me, Ferrick frowns. “And we’ll find that in a town known for fashion?”
“You’d be surprised.” The light in Bastian’s eyes never seems to dim, and his crooked smile is far too bright for a pirate. “Every town has an underbelly. You just need to know where to look. Now, if you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll be back.”
The moment he’s gone, I feel Ferrick’s presence as heavy as an anchor. “Do you truly trust him?” he asks.
I nearly snort. “Of course not. He’s a pirate.” I move around him to exit my cabin, searching the hall for somewhere to clean up, but he follows.
“Then why do this?” Ferrick presses, his voice an urgent whisper. “There has to be some other way. We can sail back to Arida and tell your father—”
“I may not trust the pirate, but I never said I didn’t believe him.” I saw Bastian trying to warn others about what was happening, and it was useless. Father thinks that he’s protecting Visidia; if I want to take hold of my fate and protect this kingdom, I have to act against him by going to Zudoh and finding Kaven myself.
Returning to Arida now, after breaking out of the prison, would be a death sentence. And not just for me. If I can pull this off, no one else will ever know about Aunt Kalea’s betrayal.
I’m forced to sidestep my way through the tight quarters of the ship’s head to reach the single washing basin. Though the age-worn ship creaks with every step, Bastian’s spent time maintaining it. The brilliant white wood shines with fresh lacquer, and the rooms are neatly organized and swept clean, as though the pirate was expecting guests at any time.