Page 82 of Beneath the Haunting Sea
Her days settled into a pattern, and gradually her plans started to take shape.
In the mornings,she went out to the cove and dug until the tide drove her away, slowly uncovering the boat. It turned out to be bigger than she imagined: a dinghy over twenty feet long, with a fitting for a mast that must have long since rotted away.
In the afternoons she read and read, as much as she could about the gods. She’d found a whole book about their Words, fascinating accounts of men and women whoused them to transform into various creatures and move mountains. But it wasn’t the book Wen had told her about, filled with the actual Words themselves, and turned out to be vastly less helpful than she’d hoped.
She found a story about a girl called Dia, who sailed to the Hall of the Dead to rescue her brother. When Rahn wouldn’t let him go, Dia chose to stay in his place among the dancers soher brother could be free. That wasn’t quite the solution Talia was looking for, but at least it gave her more proof that the Hall could be found.
She read about sailing and ship repair, grateful for all the things Hanid had taught her so many months ago. She hunted through the Ruen-Shained’s disused study and found half a dozen crackly old charts of the Northern Sea, a tarnished but functioningsextant, and an ancient compass in perfect working order.
In the evenings, Talia sewed together her patchwork sail with the material from the dismantled gowns. It grew before her, billowing over her knees like a multicolored wave.
And at night, when she fell asleep, she dreamed of the sea, of herself tormented in her mother’s place, black water crushing her into oblivion.
It took her almosta week to fully uncover the boat, her hands blistering against the rough wood of the shovel. But she managed it at last and was pleased to see that the ship was in remarkable shape. No cracks in the hull or the stern. A workable rudder, even an ancient oar lying in the bottom. She’d need to find a mast, somehow, and seal the outside of the ship with pitch and work up all the riggings. But the littleship seemed to be as sound as if the gods themselves had bound it with Words of protection. Maybe they had.
The afternoon she freed the ship, Talia trudged back to the Ruen-Shained to find Wen perched on the front steps, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He leapt to his feet when he caught sight of her.
“Thought I’d come visit, see how you were. If you don’t mind, of course,” he addedhurriedly.
“Not at all. It’s good to see you.” She smiled, glad she’d washed most of the grime off her hands in the ocean before coming back—though there was no hiding the mud on her hem.
If Wen noticed, he didn’t say anything. He smiled in return, and they walked into the house, shutting the door against the cold wind. The snow had melted over the last few days, but it wasn’t warm enough tostand around outside for very long.
“Tell me all the news,” said Talia.
Wen leaned back against the door. “Blaive’s decided to redecorate. Dairon is all in a huff, and Ahned’s frowning deeply at the amount of money she’s spending. No one’s told him about the party she’s planning yet.”
Talia laughed. “She’s gotten bored.”
He grinned at her, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “Indeed.”
“Whatabout you?”
He sobered a little, and scratched at his ear. “Same as always. Writing too much. Spending too many hours in the music room.”
It was only then that Talia noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she said with concern.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“You came to check up on me.” She said it gently, so he’d know she wasn’t angry.
“I’m glad you haven’tslipped off anywhere,” he admitted.
She poked him in the arm. “I promised I wouldn’t do anything crazy, remember?”
“I’m not sure you are entirely trustworthy, Miss Dahl-Saida.”
They had tea in the parlor, Talia shoving her books off the table before Wen could look at the titles too closely. She pulled up an extra chair by the fire and they sat, sipping their tea and eating cake and playingwith the white cat, who kept trying to sneak his head into the cream.
It felt strangely comfortable, being there with him.
Suddenly she was aware of the ring on her right hand, dirt ground into the silver whorls from her work digging out the ship. For the first time since the day Wen had put it on her finger, she didn’t mind it so much.
Wen sensed the change in her. “Talia?”
“What about ourwedding?” The words tumbled from her lips without her permission, but she didn’t regret them.
He studied her for a moment without replying, absently petting the cat who had curled up on his knees. “I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do,” he said at last. “My—my father isn’t here anymore to press the issue. And as the new Baron, Caiden … well, Caiden won’t either. We …” Wen’slips twitched a little. “… discussed it,” he finished vaguely, waving one hand.
