The door to my rooms closes without a sound, because I keep the hinges well oiled for just such activities. Kearan is no longer at the helm. His shift ended a few hours ago. Let’s find out what he does when his time is his own. He insisted I don’t know his new habits. I should set about changing that.
He’s not in the bunk area, where Iskirra is halfway through inking a compass onto one of the girl’s upper thighs. He’s not in the galley with the men playing cards. Nor is he anywhere on the top deck. That leaves the lowest level, which isn’t off-limits, but there’s very little reason for anyone to want to be down there, unless they’re trying to hide something.
The hatch barely makes a sound as I open it, and I lower my head into the opening, looking at the area upside down. There’s a small light toward the fore of the ship, so I drop down, my toes connecting with the hull before I land into a crouch. Behind me is all the storage for the journey. Ahead are the cells for those who misbehave. And after that— I hear crying.
But it’s definitely not coming from a man.
I creep closer, keeping my body low to the floor and hugging the edges of the rounded walls, using the beams of the hull to hide behind as I inch closer and closer.
When my ears catch up with my instincts for silence and nearness, I realize the crying can only belong to one person.
Only Roslyn can manage to sound like that, and her little whimpers break my heart.
“I came down here to be alone,” she says.
For a heartbeat, I make the mistake of thinking she’s talking to me.
“I know,” a deep voice answers. Kearan’s. “I also like to be alone when I cry.”
She makes a sound like a snort. “You don’t cry.”
“Don’t I?” he asks.
“No. Grown-ups don’t cry.”
“Oh, yes, we do.”
“What do you have to cry about? Sorinda actually wants you here.”
At that, Kearan laughs. “No, she doesn’t. I’m here because Alosa wants me here.”
“Then at least somebody wants you here. Nobody wants me.” A little sob makes her shoulders shake.
“That’s not true, and you know it. You know why you’re not allowed to be here.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re bad at it. Go away.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Kearan says, “I miss my mother. It’s okay if you miss your father, even if you want to be here.”
Roslyn cries harder, but this time, she wraps her arms around Kearan, and he pulls her to his side, completely enveloping her in his arms.
“How did you know?” she asks.
“I was once a little boy away from home.”
She sniffles. “I miss him, but I also want to be here. How come I have to feel both things at the same time?”
“That’s just life. You can feel joy and pain at the same time, just like you can want to be here and be somewhere else at the same time. But it’s okay. You get to have your little adventure on the sea, and then we’ll get you headed back to your papa once we reach the Seventeen Isles.”
She rubs at her eyes. “That’s just it. I don’t want to leave. I wish Papa could be here with me on this adventure. I’ve never been sailing without him before. But he’s different now. He doesn’t know how to enjoy being with me on the open ocean anymore. And nobody understands that. Everyone thinks I almost lost my life when I was shot, but the truth is, I did lose it. No more pirating. No more adventures. No more sailing. I say I’m bored and angry, and that’s true. But even more true is the fact that I’m sad. I miss my life and my old papa.”
Most of Roslyn’s tears fade into Kearan’s clothing from where he still holds her.
“It’s okay to be sad,” he says. “And you don’t need to hide being sad ever. If it’s okay, I’d like to stay here while you be sad. You can squeeze me as tightly as you want and get my shirt as wet as you want. I won’t go anywhere.”
She nods against his chest as more tears fall, and I find myself backing away.
This is what I find Kearan doing when he’s not on duty? Comforting a child?
Damn him.
Damn him to the stars and back.
FIRST THING THE NEXT morning, I rouse Roslyn from her bunk before the day crew even rises to prepare for their shifts.
Her sleepy eyes widen when she sees me hovering over her bunk. “What is it? We can’t have reached the Seventeen Isles yet!”
“Shh. No. Grab your dagger and meet me on deck.”
The weather is a bit chillier than it was yesterday. We’re slowly making the transition from the tropics to more temperate climates the farther north we go. The cooler air feels nice in my lungs, and I take a deep breath.
Roslyn’s changed her clothes and slid on her knife holster by the time she reaches me. She looks thoroughly confused when she notes that it’s just the two of us at the fore of the ship.
“Don’t be seen or heard,” I say.
Her face turns downcast as she says, “For the rest of the trip, you mean?”
“It’s the first rule of being an assassin.”
It takes her a moment, but her eyes widen, and her smile comes out in full force. “Don’t be seen or heard,” she repeats.
“Take out your knife and walk around the deck. Learn which floorboards creak. Follow the pirates on board without them knowing you’re there. Learn to place yourself in shadows and little nooks.”
“Why do I need to have my dagger out while I do it?”
“Because assassins must often be sneaking about while balancing their weapons, but for stars’ sake, do not stab anyone.”
“I won’t,” she promises.
“When you’re ready, we’ll move on to the second rule.”
“How will I know when I’m ready?”
“Bring me a secret. Something you observe or overhear. Not something trivial. Something good. Then I’ll know you’re ready.”
She gets to work that very instant. She tests her little feet out on every square inch of the ship. From my usual position on the aftercastle, I watch her following her crewmates around. More often than not, they catch her and ask what on earth she’s doing.
But she is undeterred. If she’s not up in that crow’s nest keeping lookout, she’s snaking her way through the ship, desperate to catch a juicy secret to bring me. I hadn’t realized just how busy it would keep her. I thought for sure she’d grow bored by the task, but she’s more determined than I’ve ever seen her.
“Something weird is happening with the little one,” Dimella informs me one day. “I caught her riffling through the ship’s log. It’s not exactly a thrilling read.”
“She’s hunting for secrets,” I say.
“In the ship’s log?”
“Do you not have a personal journal that you write in at night?” I ask my first mate.
“I do,” she says, her voice showing her surprise at my noticing.
“And was your journal where you’d left it after you spotted her at the ship’s log?”
“No, I thought I’d maybe forgotten where I—That little sneak!”
I fight a smile as Dimella goes to punish the little one as she sees fit. Later that day, I find Roslyn swabbing the deck instead of enjoying her time off.
“Captain,” she says. “Couldn’t you tell Dimella the nature of our lessons to get me out of this?”