much harder. “Tell her we’re visiting Curmana next, and that we’re keeping our itinerary flexible. She’ll understand.” I put every ounce of authority I have in my voice, refusing to explain or elaborate—which would require coming up with a lie I don’t have.
Bastian’s jaw clenches, but even if he can feel that I’m not telling him the full truth, it’s not as though he can read my actual thoughts.
“Set our course.” I leave him at the helm and head below deck before he or the others can pry any further.
Down in the cabin, Vataea’s already sleeping off her alcohol, twisted in the ropes of the hammock like she’s been fished straight from the sea. She doesn’t so much as twitch as I clamber into my hammock beside her, exhaustion settling into my bones.
When I shut my eyes this time, I pray that, for once, it’ll be sleep that waits for me, not Father’s ghost.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Black as spilt ink, the night sky is coated with stardust that shimmers dimly in the sea’s reflection. I stare at it from the rigging, weary and sluggish from my broken sleep and the alcohol still filtering through my body.
As usual, the faces of the dead were there to greet me the moment I shut my eyes. Father was among them, face shrouded in smoke and his bloodied hand reaching toward me in desperation as the mass of Visidia’s fallen grab on to him, weighing him down.
I do everything I can to put the memory out of my mind, humming a quiet shanty as I dip my head back against the ropes.
My first time up here, my palms had sweat so much I’d barely been able to maintain my grip. Last summer, scaling the rigging with Bastian was the first moment I remember feeling truly alive. I remember the heat of his breath on my skin as he steadied me, keeping me from falling. The way his eyes glimmered with delight as a seagull squawked at us in greeting, and he squawked right back. The way the sea salt air tore through my hair and brushed against my face, telling me that this is where I belonged.
It was my first taste of true freedom, before I knew the truth about Father and the Montara family.
Before I lost my magic and Father slid a sword deep into his stomach to protect me.
I hadn’t been a queen, then. I’d been Princess Amora Montara—a girl who was naive enough to believe she could protect a kingdom she hardly knew, with a magic that was nothing more than a lie.
It feels like a lifetime ago; when Father’s body was sent out to sea, that girl sunk into the depths beside him. Now a queen I hardly recognize has taken her place.
Silver moonlight peeks from behind a curtain of clouds and I shut my eyes against it, stilling hot tears before they come. No matter how hard I try to think otherwise—no matter how hard I try to pull my thoughts from this dark place and focus on what needs to be done—my mind keeps pulling me back to a single thought: as much as my past self yearned to one day sit upon the throne, perhaps I’m not the rightful ruler of this kingdom.
But for now, until Visidia is back on track, I am the ruler they need. I’m the only one with the knowledge to atone for my family’s past. And until then, I will not cry, but fight to give my people the kingdom they deserve.
Only when the rigging sways beneath me do I open my eyes and steady myself, gripping the ropes tight. I jerk my attention down, expecting Bastian. But my protests stop short when I see it’s Ferrick who’s inching his way up. His forehead is knitted with nerves, and every few inches he climbs he stops to curse under his breath.
“Stars.” I sigh and unravel myself from the ropes, descending a few feet so that he doesn’t have to torture himself by climbing any higher. “You should be sleeping.”
“I could say the same for you,” he tries to say, but his teeth chatter so fiercely that his words quiver. He winces as a particularly vicious tide slams into the ship and he grips the rigging desperately.
I roll my eyes and press a hand to his back, helping Ferrick regain his balance. The sea doesn’t take kindly to visitors during the winter. The dusky water is thrashing and vicious, and every movement feels amplified here