Page 83

PRIEST

“Aragon,” Cruz says as he pops his head into the doorway of my cabin. “You told me to tell you when it’s time. It’s time.”

I get out of bed, putting down my book. I have a rare talent for being able to read when the ship is heaving and hoeing and not get seasick. Abe has been on the top deck most of the last few days, his focus glued on the horizon and looking a cumbersome shade of green.

I follow Cruz up the stairs to the deck, my body immediately buffeted by strong winds and light rain and bitter cold that even I can feel seeping into my bones, the sun hidden behind clouds, making it dark as sin in the middle of the day.

I smell it before I see it: the familiar scent of a heartbreaking land.

Nombre de Jesus.

Cruz points to the shore to our left. Abe and Maren are standing at the bow, staring at it. Maren is dressed in a red gown that stands out amongst the endless gray, like a splotch of blood in the fog. I go to join them, wobbling as I go as the ship hits wave after wave.

“This is it,” I say, taking my place beside Abe. “I didn’t think we’d get here so soon.”

“I remember the strait being calmer than this,” Abe says, tucking his scarf around his neck, only for it to unravel again.

“Your memory is tainted,” I tell him, though I’m sure mine is too. “The water was often wild here. We were just safe on shore, that’s all.”

“There really is nothing left,” Maren comments. “You burned it all to the ground.”

I know I should feel shame. The only remains of the settlement are a few charred structures. Even the church is completely gone, reduced to ash and blown away in the constant wind. Only a few graves from the cemetery remain, sticking out in the now-decimated surroundings, the last signs of humanity amongst the bent pines and canelo trees and the occasional guanaco.

I suppress a shiver. I can still taste the blood of that animal. I remember being a monster and starving, as if my insides were eating up my soul—at least, whatever was left of it.

But what I was really ravenous for was Larimar.

And being here now, all the feelings come flooding back.

Are you alright? Abe’s voice slides into my mind, always concerned.

I swallow thickly and give the slightest nod. I don’t want to talk about it, not in my mind, not ever, not anymore. It was one thing to try and grapple with my feelings, to come to terms with what happened on that fateful night and the years of degeneracy after. It’s something else to be here again, sailing past the village where my entire life came crashing down for the second time, leaving my bleeding heart and fractured mind in my hands.

And now that I know we’ve plotted a course to find Larimar, everything has become more important and terrifying than ever.

I haven’t told Abe what Maren told me a few weeks ago: that Larimar is her sister. I don’t trust him not to flap his gums, especially now that I know he’s susceptible to rum. I always knew he had a weakness, but I didn’t think it was the god-awful grog they brewed on board.

No, I’ve kept it to myself.

I’ve stewed over the knowledge that seeing Larimar again isn’t a fruitless task. My obsession with finding her these last few years has existed only in the darkness of my heart. I dreamed of what I would do to her if I found her, how I would make her hurt. I wanted to bite her, drink her blood, defile her. I wanted to keep her in chains again, nail her to the wall, make sure she couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t make that same mistake again. I’d deny her legs, make her keep her tail, and I would fuck that cunt anyway.

I wanted to make her bleed.

For me.

And for all time.

But some part of me knew that finding her would be impossible. I tried. For those years, I tried as the monster, but to no avail. Even when Abe found me and said he would help me get her back, I knew it wouldn’t happen.

I truly didn’t expect him to send a letter to Ramsay to ensure we could board the Nightwind and have a shot at it. Even when we did become part of this motley crew and set off sailing down the coast of Chile on the expedition to Roche Island, I thought the idea of locating Larimar was a fever dream.

Now, though, everything has changed.

Maren’s sister is Larimar. She was the one Larimar talked about, the one the witch gave legs. I keep running it over and over again in my head, trying to dissect everything Larimar told me, to see if there was anything else she had said, but she kept her cards close to her chest.

She did say she was looking for someone—someone who didn’t want to be found.

I have to assume it was her sister. Maren told me she disappeared and left her father and sisters behind in Limonos, never to see them again. She would later divulge that she ended up being found by a prince and married him, a mistake she wouldn’t elaborate on. She was with the prince for ten years, traveling the world.