“But, Captain—” It’s Roslyn again. “We’re so thirsty.”
“If we don’t stop, we’ll die of thirst,” Niridia says. “I think that’s a worse way to go than in the hands of the pirate king.”
I can’t handle this. Cannot handle seeing their distraught faces. Cannot handle not being able to protect them this time.
And I snap.
“That’s because you’ve never suffered at his hands before!” I look around at all the bodies on the deck, watch the wind chafe at their dry skin. Watch their ragged breathing with open mouths. “You’ve seen him at a distance because I’ve kept all of you out of his clutches. But I’ve been there. I’ve been beaten until I blacked out. I’ve been starved until I wanted to eat the skin off my own bones. I’ve been chained up in that dungeon so dark and cold for months on end that I forgot the way the sun felt on my skin.”
I take a steadying breath, trying to pull my mind back out of those dark times. “You must trust me when I say, it is far worse to die at the hands of that man. We. Don’t. Stop.”
They’re silent now. No one has a response to that.
“If anyone tries to leave this ship, I will personally drag you back and lock you in the brig.” And with that being said, I lock myself in my rooms.
I am not at all surprised when the knock comes later.
I debate for a minute whether or not I will let him in. I can’t handle anyone arguing with me.
“Alosa, I’m not here to argue with you,” Riden says.
So he can read my mind on top of keeping the siren at bay? Has he really come to know me so well?
I let him in.
Then I go back to leaning against the mountain of pillows on my bed, crossing my arms, and staring at the royal-red goose-feathered comforter.
“Don’t hate yourself,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is out of your control.”
“I know that. I hate that I can’t save them, but I don’t hate myself for it.”
I can tell he picks up on my meaning immediately. “Why do you hate yourself right now, then?”
This little secret has become a burden of its own. I’ve pushed it from my mind ever since we ran low on water.
“Because I’m not thirsty.”
He cocks a brow.
“Riden, the sea nourishes me. Every time I stock up on my abilities, it’s like eating or drinking. I’m. Not. Thirsty. And my entire crew is suffering. And I just told them that we couldn’t stop, when I’m not feeling what they’re feeling. I’m selfish and horrible.” I draw my knees up to my body, rest my crossed arms on top of them.
He puts a hand on my arm. “You are not selfish and horrible. You are what you are. There is no changing that. If anything, this is a good thing. It keeps you clearheaded, allows you to make the decisions necessary to keep the rest of us safe.”
“Half of them don’t believe me. They don’t see the threat that my father is. They have no idea what he’s capable of.”
“They trust you; it’s just harder when the pain of thirst is clouding their own minds.”
“And what about you?”
He bends his head down so his eyes are level with mine. “I trust you, too. Alosa, if it were my own father behind us, soon to catch us, I would make the exact same choice you are making right now.”
I take some comfort in that, in knowing I’m not the only one who would have made this decision.
“How did we turn out the way we did when such horrible men raised us?” I wonder aloud.
“Because we are not our fathers. We saw what evil looked like, and we knew we wanted to be different.”
I stare at the hand on my arm, thinking over his words. I may not be my father, but that doesn’t mean I always know the right choice to make.
And right now I’m terrified, desperate for someone to confide in. It can’t be Niridia when she’s at odds with me over this.
“Am I going to be forced to watch everyone I care about slowly fade away?” I say. “Will I be the only one left on this ship? The only one my father catches? It feels like my only choices are to be lost to the sea or to be lost to him. I’m not sure which is worse.”
“Neither of those is going to happen.” He says it with such confidence, like the cocky bastard I’ve always taken him for.
“And how’s that?”
“You’re going to master yourself underwater.”
I scoff. “So I can save myself?”
“No, so you can save all of us.”
I shake my head. “It won’t happen. The siren can’t be tamed when she’s in her natural habitat. I almost slit your throat last time. I don’t think you realize how close you were to death.”
“And I don’t want you to be at risk of losing yourself. What if you fall in the water after the Ava-lee takes her next hit? Just like that you’d be lost to us. Unable to save anyone. Isn’t it worth it to try again?”
“Not if it means I’ll kill the entire crew.”
“Alosa, we’re already surrounded by death on all sides. We need to take this risk.”
My mind is so exhausted. All those disappointed faces …
“You said you didn’t come here to argue with me. I want to be alone now.”
He takes his arm back, watching me carefully. “You’re running out of options. And we’re running out of time.”
*
The next day, the entire crew watches as the island approaches.
And we pass it by.
Niridia can barely stand to talk to me or dole out my orders she’s so furious. Mandsy is in the infirmary with more exhausted patients. Sorinda stays by my side, in the shade, but close nonetheless. A physical support.
It’s too much to hope for rain. There’s not a cloud in the sky. Water won’t be coming that way.
We have days left. Only days.
Niridia approaches me another day later, when the island is at our backs near the fleet.
“Niridia—”
“Quiet,” she snaps.
I level her with a warning glare.
“No, Alosa,” she says. “I’m going to talk. I seem to be the only voice of reason on this ship these days. Riden tells me you’re refusing to practice with your abilities underwater.”
“Of course I’m refusing! I nearly killed everyone last time.”
She grabs me roughly by the arm and drags me toward the stern. The crew watches, and I try to decide how I can put her in her place without lowering morale further. The crew can’t see its first mate and captain at odds.
But she releases me before I can think of anything to say or do.
She points a finger in front of us. “Fleet! Right there! We’re out of options!”
I take a step back from her.
“Our choices are death, death, or death,” she says. “Go make yourself useful! We need the siren! At worst, she gives all the women a quick death. At best, you use your newfound control to find us a way out of this mess. You’ve made stopping for water impossible now. This is our only choice.”
I growl. “Damn, Riden.”
“He is the only thing that has kept us alive so far. I owe him my life thanks to what he does to the siren. Now we need her again.”
With everyone looking on, I realize I have no choice. I’m going to have to risk killing them all and hating myself afterward. I have to risk it for them.
*