All the Stars and Teeth(42)
Every time Bastian mentions Kaven, he spits the name. I can practically feel the rage he fights to quell, and can’t help but wonder again—how did Bastian get his magic stolen in the first place? What was he doing with Kaven?
I want to press the issue, but for now it’s better to keep my guard up and continue to let him lead. After all, he knows this island far better than Ferrick or I do, and we need him if we’re going to reach Kaven.
“I’ll wear a cape,” I tell him eventually.
Appeased, Bastian nods. “Now, do either of you have questions?” He sits straight, posture oddly perfect. He’s far too well-mannered, and every day his outfit is something exquisitely tailored and overall marvelous. Still, there’s no denying he’s a pirate. The easy way Bastian moves around Keel Haul only comes from years of practice, as does the way his eyes scan the ocean, always seeing and knowing something no one else can.
I’m convinced Bastian is the strangest man I will ever meet. My curiosity about him grows every day.
“When can I learn to sail Keel Haul?”
Bastian bites the inside of his cheek. “Do you have any questions about Kerost?” he specifies with the arch of one finely manicured brow. I can only imagine how long he must spend before a mirror, grooming himself.
I shake my head. “Keep my head low, don’t let anyone see me, and stab anyone who tries to hurt me. I get it.”
“I never said to stab—”
“Bastian.” I press my hands to the deck and lean toward him. “I’m kidding. I can handle myself. But we have several days until we’ll reach Kerost. This is the perfect time to teach me to sail.”
He doesn’t move, only stares back at me, expressionless. “You know Keel Haul is partially run on magic. She doesn’t require much maneuvering.”
“But you’d know how to sail her even if her magic broke, wouldn’t you?” I press, not about to let him back out of our deal.
His nose scrunches distastefully, but he relents. “Fine, but no sailing, yet. First, let’s get you more familiar with the ship. You can climb the rigging.”
My blood’s like harsh ocean waves as it pounds its excitement in my ears.
“You’re fine here?” I ask Ferrick, who mumbles something incoherent and waves me away to follow Bastian toward Keel Haul’s rigging. Though the ropes sway on the breeze, they seem stable. If I don’t lose my footing, I should be fine.
“Have you ever climbed before?” Bastian squints from the bright sunlight. The winds carry the sharp coolness of the water, but the sky is bright and my body is warm from the morning rays. There’s no better type of day to be on the sea, and certainly no better day to practice scaling the rigging of a ship.
I wipe my palms on my pants. “Never. My father would sooner die than allow that. He thinks ships are too dangerous for me.” I snort, recalling the eighteen years of work it took before he even let me touch the helm.
Just thinking about him makes my throat thick with emotion. If only he could see me now.
“There’s nothing to catch you if you fall,” Bastian says. “You should be fine, just be careful. It’s your first time, so go slow. There’s no one to impress.”
I scan the space above, searching for any potential mishaps. But Keel Haul keeps steady and the rigging is stable to my touch. It’s practically inviting me.
I grind my feet into my boots, ensuring a snug fit as I wind my fingers around the ropes. I barely lift one foot before I look down. My racing heart’s a trickster, telling me I’m already high up on the rigging. In reality, it’d only take a single step to hop down.
Ferrick watches cautiously from the deck, his eyes narrowed and anxious.
“You sure you want to do this?” Bastian’s words lighten with amusement as he pulls himself onto the rigging beside me, sporting a silly grin. It makes me want to push him off the ropes as much as it makes my stomach flutter in a way I’d rather not think about. A pirate has no right to look so handsome.
I peer up once more, skin hot with nerves, and tentatively grab on to another groove in the rope. I try to tell myself that my body was built for this. That the lean muscles that thicken my arms and curve my thighs—built from years spent with Casem and his father, training with blades—were made for this moment. They won’t let me fall.
The rigging sways beneath me as I draw it toward my chest and ease onto the next step, one at a time. Bastian’s beside me, slow and patient as I cautiously ascend Keel Haul. We’re halfway up when my foot misses its mark and I falter, digging my hands into the rope and gasping for breath as I hang there.
Bastian has his body protectively around mine within a second. His warm chest presses against my back, steadying me, then he slowly eases his foot beneath mine and guides it back into position. My face goes hot as his hand sets on my hip, making sure I’ve caught my balance.
“Relax.” His words are a mere whisper; they buzz pleasantly against my neck as the wind knocks wispy curls into my eyes. “We’re climbing up the windward shroud, the weather is mild, and you have a handsome and experienced pirate to look out for you. You can do this.”
My eyes shut as I summon the courage to keep climbing.
Step by step, not looking down or any farther up than I need to, we continue our climb.
My hands are raw from the ragged ropes. Forming a fist around them hurts, but mentally every step becomes easier than the last. I hardly notice when Bastian stops. His eyes rest on mine, gleaming wickedly against the sunlight. He wraps one arm through the ropes, then flips himself to face the sea. He winds his other arm similarly, protecting himself from falling, and winks.