will be sailing again.” He says it so plainly that my heart soars. “Just as soon as I figure out where I’m going. But you won’t be coming with me.”
My heart crashes back down, straight into my throat. Though I never truly let myself believe otherwise, I’d hoped Papa would at least consider me. I’ve been studying every night, just like him. I know I could be so helpful, if he’d let me try.
My sadness swells, but I won’t let him see it. Papa never shows his emotions, after all. Maybe sailors aren’t supposed to. Maybe this is a test, and I’m not meant to show mine, either?
“Are you looking for something?” I take a seat on the edge of the small bed behind him. Then I lift my chin high, trying to sound serious and worthy of his notice.
To my surprise, it works. Papa doesn’t tell me to leave, or cast me a withering stare. He simply sits in his chair and runs both hands through his blond hair, tugging at the ends with a sigh.
“Yes” is all he says at first, and I hesitate, unsure whether to press or keep quiet. In the end, I decide to go for something in between.
So quietly I almost hope he doesn’t hear, I ask, “What is it?”
The chair beneath him squeaks as he tips it back and draws a long sip from his decanter. Even from here I can smell the sweetness of rum on his breath. “Do you truly want to know, Ornell?”
Something in my gut stirs, telling me I should leave; I’ve never seen Papa like this before, and something about it doesn’t feel right. But before I can move, he’s talking again, and I can’t bring myself to disturb him. He’s never talked to me so much at one time; I should want this.
Slowly, I nod.
“I’m looking for the one who has my heart.” His voice is smooth and factual, each word like a punch. “I’m searching for the way to bring the woman I love back from the dead.”
Everything in my body numbs. “But … Mama’s not dead.” I know they’re naive words even before I say them, but they tumble out. Never has Papa spoken like this; never has he put emotions like love into his words. It must be the rum bringing it out of him, for his eyes grow more glazed and bloodshot and the words tumble out faster with each sip.
“No, but Corina is,” he grits out. “And no matter how many times I’ve tried to save her, I’ve always failed. Tell me, have you read this?” Kicking his feet onto the table, he toes at the edge of the leather-bound seafaring book that sits open to a sketched picture of a bird flying into a town that sits upon the clouds. I’ve never read it, but I’ve skimmed enough to know it’s about the legends of Visidia—things like kelpies, hydras, and the Lusca—legends Mama told me were forged by drunken sailors who needed to find ways to get through long, lonely nights.
“There’s a legend in here about the godwoken—four deities who were the first of the gods’ creations, each tasked with a duty—the protection of land, sea, sky, or humankind. They protect our world with bodies that hold the power of the gods. One scale from their skin or a feather from their wings, and someone would be the most powerful human ever known.” His eyes are alight with a hunger that has my hands trembling. Desperately, I steady them into my lap. “But their magic comes with a price—to have what you most want, you must give up what you most love.
“When I was eighteen,” he continues, “I was engaged to a woman I would have moved the stars for—Corina. We were set to marry the next summer, when one day she joined her father for a fishing trip and never returned. Little did she or I know, it wasn’t truly a fishing trip at all, but a poaching trip to capture mermaids and steal the scales from their bodies. In the end, those mermaids used their voices to win the fight, and they took the lives of every one of the sailors aboard that ship. I was never meant to see Corina again, but that was a fate I couldn’t live with. I knew from the moment I heard of her death that I needed to find a way to get her back, no matter the price I had to