All the Stars and Teeth(25)

I’m more comfortable on this ship than I ought to be.





CHAPTER NINE


I’ve never slept better than I did my first night on the ocean. I didn’t dream of my execution as I’d feared, nor did I dream of Aridian magic or Aunt Kalea’s color-changing eyes. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t dream of my magic or ruling Visidia.

In fact, I didn’t dream at all. I slept through the entire night, despite the hammock.

My cabin is dark and windowless. When I press my hand against the wood, coolness nips at my skin. There’s no way to know the time, yet I’m well rested and my mind already races. This small cabin is no longer comforting, but claustrophobic. I crave the briny air in my lungs.

I tighten the satchel so it holds up my pants, stuff on my boots, and throw Bastian’s scarlet coat over myself before I climb the creaky wooden stairs up to the deck. My blood pounds with excitement I hardly understand—I should be focused on getting to Zudoh and finding Kaven before summer’s end. Not getting distracted by the joy of waking up aboard a sailing ship.

Frigid air floods my lungs the moment I step outside. It’s coated in a thin veil of mist that wraps around my skin and sweetly strokes my face, greeting me like a forgotten friend. The odor of brine and seaweed is thicker than I’ve ever known it. It tells me we’re farther from Arida’s bay than I’ve ventured, and while my skin crawls at the thought, it’s not from worry.

It’s excitement. Perhaps excitement that would be best experienced under different circumstances, but still. I’ve craved this for years.

I make my way to the bow, lean over the ledge, and suck in a breath until my lungs nearly burst. The gulls above me cry out as they dive into the water, scooping frenzied fish into their beaks and gulping them down before soaring back into the sky and rejoining their flock. The day has barely broken through the hazy gray skies, and the droplets of water that splash onto my cheek are still cold.

Still, a relaxed warmth fills my chest and I sink into its comfort.

“Good morning, Princess.” Bastian stands behind me, a loaf of bread in his palm. He cracks it in half and hands a chunk to me. “There’s some dried meat as well, though I’m afraid the food on Keel Haul is nothing as exquisite as the food on Arida.” The ship groans against the tides, and Bastian pats the edge of it gently. “Sorry, love. You know it’s true.”

I’ve never seen Bastian in the daylight, and am surprised to find he looks even more like a seasoned voyager than Father. While the sun has bathed itself in his skin, casting gold beneath his warm brown complexion, his eyes hold a brightness that can only come from being drenched in starlight. They’re a striking hazel with brilliant flecks of yellow, and he’s got a smattering of freckles dusted below them. He’s not like anyone I’ve seen before—he’s molded by the world, crafted by travel and adventure. There are stories in those eyes, but I don’t fall for them so easily.

I take the offered bread.

“Good morning, pirate.” I bite into the loaf, surprised to find it’s still soft. As if reading my expression, Bastian turns rueful. Slowly, making a show of it, he draws something from his breast pocket. It’s wrapped in an emblazoned handkerchief, and I’m too curious to be amused. Palm flat as he holds it out, he uses his other hand to slowly unfurl whatever is inside.

It’s ginnada, and I’m salivating.

“You stole that from Arida,” I say, only posing it as half a question.

“I don’t think of it as stealing.” He makes a motion to rewrap the dessert but stops with a laugh when he notices me staring. “I think of it as diligently restocking Keel Haul before a hungry princess and her extra-mouth-to-feed fiancé join me. You’re lucky I did, too. Otherwise, we’d be having stale bread and wine until we find somewhere to restock.” He runs a hand through dark chestnut hair, and I notice it’s speckled with sandy pieces the sun has latched onto and bleached.

“You mean somewhere to swindle?” I ask with a smile.

Bastian snorts. “Just take it. I saw the way you scarfed these things down last night.”

“You were watching me all night, then?” Bastian rolls his eyes when I ask this.

“You flatter yourself. In that crown of yours, you were hard to miss.”

This pirate’s tongue is too clever for its own good; I don’t bother trying to best it with a response. Instead, I snatch the ginnada from his hand and take a bite, groaning as the sugary almond and buttery crust melt in my mouth.

“I’m glad I stocked several more.” Bastian laughs as I cram the rest of the ginnada into my mouth. “It’s not often you happen across a giant festival with free food. It’s best to take advantage of such fortunate circumstances.”

Another gull wails before it dives for its meal. I watch it, finishing off mine while Bastian leans against the ledge of the ship and stares out into the sea. He may have been handsome beneath the glow of the stars, but here in the sun he’s glorious and comfortable. He must know every inch of Keel Haul.

“Keel Haul is a magic ship,” I say. “Isn’t it?”

His shoulders stiffen as he keeps focus on the gulls. Two of them fight above the water for a fish, their wings smacking angrily against the waves as their squeals fill the air.