Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(2)
Sleep isn’t coming anytime soon. I roll out of bed and find the thick wool cloak Dragonsbane left in my cabin. I pull it over my nightgown. It swamps me, hanging down to my ankles, cozy and shapeless. The material is fraying, and it’s been patched so many times that I doubt there is anything of the original cloak left, but I still prefer it to the fine silk gowns the Kaiser used to force me to wear.
As always, thinking of the Kaiser makes the flame of fury in my belly burn brighter until it scorches through me, turning my blood to lava. It’s a feeling that frightens me, even as I relish it. Blaise promised me once that I would light the fire that would turn the Kaiser’s body to ash, and I don’t think this feeling will abate until I do.
THE PASSAGEWAYS OF THE SMOKE are deserted and quiet, without a soul in sight. The only sound is the light patter of footsteps overhead and the muted din of waves crashing against the hull. I turn down one hallway, then another, looking for a way up to the deck before realizing how hopelessly lost I am. Though I thought I had a decent idea of the ship’s layout during Dragonsbane’s tour earlier in the evening, it looks like an entirely different place at this hour. I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see a flash of one of my Shadows before I realize they aren’t there. No one is.
For ten years, the presence of others was a constant weight on my shoulders that suffocated me. I hungered for the day I could finally shrug it off and just be alone. Now, though, there is a part of me that misses the constant company. They would, at the very least, keep me from getting lost.
Finally, after another few turns, I find a steep set of stairs going up to the deck. The steps are rickety and loud and I climb slowly, terrified that someone will hear and come after me. I have to remind myself that I’m not sneaking anywhere—I’m free to wander as I please.
I push open the door and sea air whips at my face, blowing my hair in all directions. I smooth it back with one hand to keep it out of my eyes and pull my cloak tighter around me with the other. I didn’t realize how stale the air belowdecks was until fresh air is in my lungs.
Up here, there are some crew members working, a skeleton crew to ensure that the Smoke doesn’t go off course or sink in the middle of the night, but they’re all too bleary-eyed and focused on their tasks to spare me more than a glance as I walk by.
The night is cold, especially with the wind as vicious as it is on the water. I cross my arms over my chest as I make my way up to the bow of the ship.
I might still be growing used to being alone, but I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this: The sky open all around me. No walls, no restrictions. Just air and sea and stars. The sky above is overflowing with stars, so many that it’s difficult to pick out any one in particular. Artemisia told me the navigators use the stars to steer the ship, but I can’t imagine how such a thing is possible. There are too many to make any sense of.
The bow of the ship isn’t as empty as I hoped it would be. There’s a lone figure standing at the railing near the front, shoulders hunched as he stares at the ocean below. Even before I’m close enough to make out any of his features, I know it’s Blaise. He’s the only person I’ve met who can slouch with such a frantic energy about him.
Relief surges through me and I quicken my pace toward him.
“Blaise,” I say, touching his arm. The heat of his skin and the fact that he’s awake at this hour tug at my mind, pulling it in still more directions, but I refuse to let them. Not now. Now, I just need my oldest friend.
He turns toward me, surprised, before smiling, though a little more tentatively than I’m used to.
We haven’t spoken since we came aboard earlier in the afternoon, and truthfully, a part of me has been dreading it. He must know that I switched our cups on the trip here, giving him the tea that he’d laced with a sleeping draught for me. He must know why I did it. That isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks me, glancing around before looking back at me. He opens his mouth but closes it again. He clears his throat. “It can be difficult, getting used to sleeping on a ship. With the rocking and the sound of the waves—”
“It isn’t that,” I say. I want to tell him about my nightmare, but I can already imagine his response. It was just a dream, he will say. It wasn’t real. Cress isn’t here, she can’t hurt you.
True as that might be, I can’t make myself believe it. What’s more, I don’t want Blaise to know how Cress lingers in my thoughts, how guilty I feel about what I did to her. In Blaise’s mind, it is clear: Cress is the enemy. He wouldn’t understand my guilt, and he certainly wouldn’t understand the longing that has taken root in the pit of my stomach. He wouldn’t understand how much I miss her, even now.
“I didn’t tell you about Dragonsbane,” he says after a moment, unable to look at me. “I should have warned you. It couldn’t have been a pleasant shock, meeting a stranger with your mother’s face.”
I lean on the railing next to him, both of us staring down to where the waves lap at the hull of the ship.
“You likely would have told me if I hadn’t switched our cups of tea,” I point out.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and the only sound comes from the sea. “Why did you?” he asks quietly, like he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.