One last promise. I didn’t need to tell her I loved her. That I always would. That the bond between us was endless. As deep as the sea; as infinite as the stars.
I simply whispered, “Until the ocean dries up.”
She mouthed the words back at me, and in my mind, her voice echoed from every corner.
Until the moon burns out.
I sighed heavily, fitting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. We’d decided it would be a risk to walk each other through the shipyard, but trading farewells here feltwrong. But we knew each other well enough to recognize each of our stalling methods.
“I hope she’s just like you,” I said. “And I can’t wait to meet her.”
At the mention of her future daughter, Cebrinne smiled, and I had to hold my breath. It was a full smile. A beaming smile. Her eyes sparkled, herchest swelled, her cheeks rounded. I’d seen it so few times, but the radiance of it never failed to capture me.
The twelfth bell tolled. We’d waited long enough for the hooded Naiad that had trailed us since we’d left the palace to follow our decoys instead.
Time to go.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, hiking the loose pants over my hips. Cebrinne followed me out the door and into the clamor of the market. Her eyes locked on me. Mine locked onto her. We watched each other drift away.
Neither of us saw the man who shadowed our steps.
51
Cebrinne
Calderians swarmed the harbor. A tapestry of motion and color and noise. Waves lapped at wooden keels, seagulls and crows screeched from the top of tall masts, and voices overlapped in a cacophony of racket that seemed to blend seamlessly together.
I’d planned to dart between wandering crowds, but the passageways were so thin between stacked crates, the scale of merchants and sailors so numerous, I hardly had to hide.
The Cerulean’sname offered a prettier picture than the ship itself. She was old. Not as haggard as some of the other trading ships buoyed against the docks, but worn and weathered just the same, a thick film of barnacles and algae visible just under the waterline, her gray sails patched and frayed. She wasn’t a cruising vessel. None of the ships that visited Leihani were. But we’d managed to secure a passage with a fish merchant, a fact I became all too aware of as I stepped across the gangway and onto the quarterdeck, the smell of salt and ocean water warring with the faint scent of seaside decay.
My name wasn’t in any manifest, and I didn’t have a ticket for the captain to stamp. No trail for Thaan to follow. Instead, I offered the captain a leather purse offraggs. Half of our agreed amount. The other half would be waiting for him in his harbor office after my safe arrival. Not that there’d be any way to confirm anything. Selena would be headed north by now with her own troupe of Rivean merchants, and we’d decided it would besafest not to exchange letters of any kind. Our creed lived in the words of Theia. The faith in her prophecy.
And, for me, hope in the certainty that Selena wouldn’t be alone. If I trusted anyone with my sister, it was the Naiad who would have killed a king for her.
The line of human sailors paused their work to let their gaze linger over my skin as I passed, sending a gust of hot wind across the back of my shoulders. It wasn’t that I was afraid of them—but the lack of my song left me more vulnerable than I’d have liked.
The captain snapped his fingers at a man who looked as though he’d just rolled around in a barrel of oil. “Thought you might not show,” he said, a gold tooth glinting as he held out his hand for myfraggs. He gave the leather bag a gentle bounce in the palm of his hand, weighing it, then let it drop into a pocket. “We don’t have private cabins onboardThe Cerulean.You’re either in the main berth with the men or with me.”
Movement seemed to cease as the entire crew waited for my answer. Had I been able to sing, I might not have cared. Either option would have been easy enough to deal with.
But I didn’t enjoy the thought of being locked below alone with men—whether one respectable one or a crew of them.
Shrugging my shoulders, I sank onto a flat crate shoved against the wooden rail, letting my canvas sack drop to my feet.
The captain gave ahehand turned to his first mate. “Another thirty minutes for the quartermaster to fill the crew,” he called. “Then we’ll prepare to hoist anchor.”
Thirty minutes. I’d cut it close.
A small handful of men joined the ship, their lives strapped to their backs in salt-stained canvas. I studied the afternoon moon, high in the sky for this time of day, and wondered if Theia happened to be watching me. The first jolt of slow movement woke me from an idle stupor, and I realizedthe dock was floating away.
Calder was floating away.
The Ceruleandrifted from port enough to unfurl her sails. They snapped open against the sailor’s ropes like the wings of a butterfly, their centers fluttering against the wind, and a sudden jolt propelled us forward.
To Leihani.
Clouds passed, but the sun shone through, each beam growing stronger. The evening rays left my face tilted up and my eyes closed, my legs stretched over the crate like a satisfied cat. Night fell, and the air only grew warmer. I pinned my hair in a pile on the back of my neck and hiked my skirt, suddenly grateful the pleasure servant refused to wear pants.
