Page 7

Eighteen years old and the way he called me child made me want to curl up beside him and beg for a story. I ignored his greeting, heart loud in my chest as I crossed the room to sit in the armchair by his bed.

I gripped the worn upholstery with clammy fingers and stared at him, trying to discern my father – my softly spoken guardian, my patient teacher, my favourite person in the world – from the man who’d staggered home in the night.

Age had softened his handsome face, threading his dark brown hair with grey. He usually wore it tied back with a ribbon as a nobleman would, though it had been years since he’d deserved the title. Today it sat straggled about his shoulders, frizzy and dried with salt.

I swallowed thickly. He’d always been more a scholar than a sailor, his slim body built for knowledge, not battle. He didn’t have a chance of surviving the Heartless King a second time, especially not alone and empty-handed.

‘You’ve done well with these,’ Father spoke, nodding to the documents in his hands.

Any other day, I’d have flushed with pleasure at his praise. Not today.

Heat spilled into my cheeks, my hands curling into fists on the armrests. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

Father’s bewildered expression wavered. ‘I know you must be scared,’ he started slowly. ‘Terrible things are happening, but we’ve always known a sea merchant like me wouldn’t be safe forever.’

His hand reached for mine but I drew back. He really planned to leave. ‘I can’t let you go when I don’t understand why it’s happening,’ I pressed.

‘Dreadful people do dreadful things,’ Father insisted, his half-smile threaded with worry. ‘This is a pirate’s promise – stoking fear into the hearts of those their swords cannot reach. Soldiers couldn’t keep them out of Bray fifty years ago, and there’s nobody here to even stand a chance against them now. I can’t let them find you here; I must return to the Blood Rose.’

But you can’t, the child in me wanted to cry. You can’t leave me again. ‘What does Felicie have to do with this?’ I asked instead. ‘I know you’re hiding something, Aberdeen told me.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What did your sister tell you?’

A lump clogged my throat, an angry heat clawing at my eyes. They really had been hiding things, all this time. ‘She said you don’t think I could handle it. You think I’m weak.’

The sigh that escaped him told me everything I needed to know. She’s right.

Hot tears threatened to burn through my composure. There we sat, like strangers – the father I loved lost in a fog of lies. When did he decide I wasn’t good enough? When did he stop believing I’d do anything to protect us?

‘I thought you trusted me,’ I whispered.

Father’s jaw tensed. I could see the pity clear as day in his frown. I didn’t want it – hated it almost as much as what faced us. How did we end up like this?

‘I do trust you,’ he insisted, setting the parchment aside to fix me with a look that stirred guilt in my belly. It’s his life on the line here, not mine, I reminded myself. ‘I trust that you’ll look after your sisters. You always have. But if you knew the truth behind all this . . . I know you too well, child. You’d do something foolish.’

His words cut like a knife. So I was a fool, too. No wonder they didn’t tell me anything.

‘Your mother and I swore we’d do everything we could to make sure the three of you were safe and happy,’ Father said.

Happy. I stared at him blankly. Did he honestly think I was happy here?

‘You think we’d be safe without you?’ I fired back.

‘Safer here than in the hands of pirates.’

I sank into the armchair, arms wrapped around myself. This couldn’t be real. Pirates. The mere mention of those unwashed mercenaries and their pointed blades made my heart stutter in fear. The thought of Father facing them in the flesh again turned my blood to ice.

How had it come to this?

He could refuse to tell me what the Heartless King’s crew wanted with my sister, but whatever it was, I couldn’t let him die for it.

I glanced up, seeing my anguish mirrored in Father’s watery gaze. A tear slipped from my eye and I let it fall.

‘Just don’t go,’ I pleaded through trembling lips. ‘Please.’

‘Forgive me,’ he whispered. I knew what that really meant. Don’t cry. Stay here. Be happy. But I couldn’t. The world wasn’t made for women like us – young and poor and hungry. I couldn’t let him go, because I couldn’t protect my sisters without him.

Forgive me, then, I thought, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. My lips were wet and all I could taste was salt. It made me ache for the sea, made my heart throb to be far from here, to be free.