After a long pause, he says, “No.”
“Then don’t mourn her. She didn’t die because of you. She wasn’t on that ship because of you. If she truly cared for you, she wouldn’t have chosen another man over you. So she wasn’t on that ship for you. She was there for herself. She chose someone else for herself. What happened afterward was an accident.”
Kearan swallows. “Those words are about as soothing as a blunt knife.”
“And just like a blunt knife, they still get the job done.”
He rolls his eyes, and some of his normal coloring returns.
“You really turned to drink because a woman died? And one who treated you like rubbish, at that.”
His gaze narrows. “That’s not why I started drinking.”
“Then why?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “I did lose Parina. That hit me hard. I came back from the voyage without pay. Then I found out my mother had passed. Some ridiculous cough that wouldn’t go away.” He looks up. “I had nothing. No money. No one left who cared for me. Nothing but a house with a fine stock of ale, courtesy of my good-for-nothing father, who’d quit the world a few years previously.
“So I started drinking to cover up the pain. I took on with Riden’s father’s crew when I grew too hungry for the drink to be enough.”
Confusion settles within me. “And then you stopped because of me?”
He grins. “I may have exaggerated that a bit. It wasn’t just you. It was Alosa’s crew, where I could see myself part of something bigger again. Not a family, exactly, but something like it. It was Enwen, who stuck with me all that time, even though I never deserved it. I still don’t deserve it, yet he keeps trailing me around like a lost puppy. He goes around insisting I call him my best friend, as if we’re a couple of little girls. Grown men don’t go around calling each other their besties.” He catches himself digressing and pulls himself back on track. “And then there was you, who gave me an excuse to stop in that moment because my easy access to rum was gone.”
“Drink is not an answer to pain,” I say, because I don’t know what else I can say to help. I’m entirely out of my element. Kearan just gave me his entire life story, full of pain and loss. I’m unused to being entrusted with such vulnerabilities. I add, “We can’t change the fates of those who are gone. We can’t unmake decisions—our own or others. All we can do is keep living, ourselves, and if you hate yourself, then live for others.”
He looks at me with the most peculiar expression. Disbelief?
Confusion, perhaps?
“That sounded far too self-reflective to be advice you just thought of,” he says.
“I did just think of it,” I lie.
“Do you hate yourself?”
“I didn’t say that. You’re reading too much into—”
But I can tell it’s too late. Kearan has deduced far too much about me. When I was trying to focus on him, no less.
“You think your life isn’t worth living, so you live for others?” he asks. “Is that what drives you? All this time I’ve been trying to figure you out, and—”
“Kearan, we were talking about you. Don’t change the subject.”
“Is that why you serve Alosa? Because you’d rather let someone else make choices for you? You think you’re not capable of directing your own life?”
I round on him. “This from the man who let drink control him for three years?”
“And you turned to killing. What was so bad that you became an assassin? What did Alosa save you from?”
Everything is cold and dark. I hear splashing and gasping, a shriek that cuts off into gurgling. The screaming of my sisters.
A body floating in bathwater. My mother’s sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.
I blink the thoughts away, refocusing on the man sitting in my room. How did we even get here?
“Alosa saved me from nothing. I saved myself. And then I got my revenge for what I couldn’t save. Alosa just gave me a purpose again.”
“Again? What was your purpose before?”
“It’s none—”
“Of my business. I get it. I’ll just pour out my deepest hurts and insecurities to you, but you stay bottled up. I hear that’s super healthy.”
He stomps out the door without looking back.
WE HONOR THE FALLEN by lighting lanterns the next night. Though we’ve been doing this for days to prevent the beastie from sneaking off with anyone, this time it’s different. The lanterns are for the dead, not the living. Souls lost at sea are able to follow the lantern light to the water’s surface. From there they can see the stars and be guided home. Each star is someone who has passed on, living a bright new life in the heavens.
When I was little, I would search the sky for hours, trying to guess which bright dots of light belonged to my family. So many nights I longed to join them, and many times I thought of speeding the process along.
Then I met Alosa. She reminded me that the stars have a plan for each of us. I shouldn’t cut my time short. My family will still be waiting for me no matter how much time I spend on the seas. There is still much good I can do before I reunite with them.
Now there are four new stars up in the sky. I can’t distinguish them, for the stars in the heavens are as numerous as the sands on the beach.
But I can’t help but wonder if there’s anything I could have done to prevent them from joining the night sky so soon.
IT TAKES A FEW days to put the ship to rights, but we thankfully had everything we needed on board to fix things. Radita is truly the best at what she does. She has the ship perfectly functional once more. Vengeance certainly shows signs of wear, but if anything, it makes her look more hardened. Like she’s seen tough waters and survived. I like her better for it.
We set sail again, our ship following the Wanderer’s path, though we’ve long since passed the point where Alosa last heard from them. Since the water beastie didn’t attack the ship until we attacked it, I have every reason to believe they kept on sailing. Wanderer had a far larger crew. I don’t think a few missing sailors would have deterred the land king’s men.
When Alosa’s response to my report arrives, I feel relieved as I open the scroll. I want her advice. I don’t want to be in control for a moment. I just need to know what she would have me do next.
It was bigger than the ship, you say? And you still managed to take it out? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. There’s no one better at killing than you. I know you’re downplaying your role in defeating the creature. Good work, and I’m proud. I am also saddened by the losses. We will honor them tonight after dinner. I know you’ll have already done so on the ship.