All the Stars and Teeth(68)

“We’re close,” Bastian says, scanning the horizon. His muscles tense.

Ferrick and Vataea have made themselves comfortable on the deck. They’ve a small pile of food between their too-close bodies, and there’s a confident spark in the mermaid’s eyes. It doesn’t look like Bastian and I were the only ones getting a little friendlier.

Ferrick clears his throat and stands as Bastian and I approach, as if to distance himself from Vataea. “So how do we do this?”

“We need to keep a low profile,” Bastian responds immediately. “We don’t want to tip them off. I’ll anchor Keel Haul farther from the island and we’ll take the dinghy. I’m hoping the fog can keep us covered. Vataea?”

“Yes, Captain?” she asks, voice playful.

“You’ll have to go ahead of us, to show us a safe path. If you can, stick to the southern edge of the island; we’ll be safer there.”

This far south, the water is surely too cold for the average human, but Vataea doesn’t hesitate. It’s clear she’s missed the ocean by how quickly she moves to the edge and throws herself into the sea. I imagine it has to hurt, but when I look overboard, the shimmering rose-gold tip of her tail fin disappears beneath the surface. All that’s left is a small pool of iridescent gold that mixes with the murky water and eventually disappears.

Behind me, Bastian clears his throat. “You know, I rather like being called ‘Captain.’ I think I should make it my mandatory title. Like how we call Amora ‘Princess.’”

Ferrick’s brows arch as a bemused grin sets upon his lips. “Good luck getting that to catch on.” He clasps Bastian on the shoulder as he passes, moving to join me on the edge of the starboard side. His eyes rove the dark water, looking for any sign of Vataea. But she’s nowhere in sight. He taps an obsessive rhythm against the wood. His fingers still as the water moves.

Vataea appears as if out of nowhere, nearly gagging in the middle of the sea.

“This water is disgusting!” she snarls, glaring down at the sea with distaste. “It’s all dead fish and algae, and I keep getting fish scales on my lips!”

“Can you feel the curse?” Bastian presses, which makes Vataea huff in annoyance.

“It’s still ahead. But the farther I go, the worse it’s getting.” Her lips sour into a grimace. “You owe me for this, pirate.” Begrudgingly, she lowers herself back into the dark green tides. It’s difficult to keep track of her, but every so often she lifts her fin from the water and gently slaps it down, creating a path for Keel Haul.

The ship no longer moves hesitantly. It’s lithe and eager, readily altering its course toward the south. There’s little wind in the stagnant air, but still it presses forward as quickly as possible.

Bastian moves to stand at the foremost point of the ship. He grips the ledge so tightly the muscles in his arm bulge and contract. It’s him who’s spurring the ship forward. There’s a readiness in his set jaw and determined grip.

He looks like a man eager to take on the world.

Vataea leads us to a small cavern formed by jagged, weatherworn rocks. The area’s shrouded by the same thick fog that makes it difficult to see any more than three hundred feet before us. It should hide Keel Haul perfectly.

I step toward the helm as we ready to drop anchor. It’s smooth against my palms.

Being here reminds me of the last time I sailed The Duchess with Father, and the memory fills me with longing.

I miss him. I miss Father, Mother, and all of Arida. I wonder what happened after I left. I imagine Yuriel already mourning his loss, while Aunt Kalea packs her bags to move to Arida. I imagine my parents yelling at the Visidian soldiers to hurry and find me. Father’s forehead would be creased, like it is when he’s worried. Mother would be sunk in her chair, picking at the skin of her nails while he paces around her.

The thoughts bring an unexpected rush of anger. Before I see them again, I have to fix Father’s mistakes.

I cannot fail in Zudoh.

Worry plagues my lungs, constricting each breath until it’s as though I’m back in the sea with the Lusca, choking on water. I press my hand to my new blade, then to my satchel, and steel myself.

A gentle hand rests on my shoulder. At first my memory fools me, tricking me into believing it’s Father. But when I turn, Bastian stands in his place.

He stands close, taking my hands in his and repositioning them on the helm.

“What are you doing?” I ask, running my nails over the smooth wood. I want it to feel rougher. Worn in. He only uses it for show.

But even so, desire warms my palms and spreads welcome heat up into my chest. The plummeting temperature is now nothing more than an annoyance.

“You’re going to sail us into that cavern.” He points ahead. The rocks look bigger than they did earlier—looming and vicious, with jagged points threatening to tear into the wood of a poorly steered ship.

“Perhaps we should try in an area that’s more open?” I start to pull away, but Bastian blocks me.

“I trust you.” His words burn my skin with tiny prickles of heat. “You know what this ship means to me, and I trust you to sail it. Perhaps you should trust yourself, too.” He’s challenging. Confident. “I’m going to let Keel Haul out of my control, just for now. If anything starts to go wrong, I’ll jump back in. There’s no better ship for you to practice sailing on, Princess.”