Page 55 of A Sea of Vows and Silence (The Naiads of Juile #3)

Selena

“ T o Cressi?”

The young, dark-haired beauty stared at me in surprise.

Cebrinne handed her a purse stuffed with gold fraggs .

“And then wherever you want,” I said, holding up two freedom contracts. The glint of my favorite violet ink shone in my large, loopy signature. “Change clothes with us.”

The two women exchanged glances, deep apprehension in their eyes. “Is this a trick?” the younger one asked.

I turned, allowing Cebrinne to unlace my corset. “No. Your contracts are paid. Your debts to the Velvet Pearl are fulfilled. You just need to board this ship east. Board, arrive, and be free.”

The younger one resembled us more than the other. Her features were sharper, shrewder than the doe-eyed woman to my left. She reached for the documents, but I whipped them away. I didn’t need them realizing they were a lynchpin in a completely separate bid for freedom. We couldn’t afford them to.

“Why Cressi?”

“If you’re not interested,” I said, rolling the signed parchment, “I can return these to your matron.”

The young woman grasped the edge of her hat. Her hair dragged with it as she pulled it away. I couldn’t blame her for the scowl of distrust. To have a ten-year servitude paid and tickets out of the country would have been too good to be true in almost every other circumstance .

But not ours.

The four of us traded clothes in silence.

I could almost hear their thoughts, zooming back and forth between them like winged insects, but they didn’t say a word.

We’d instructed them to wear men’s clothes and hats, but only the doe-eyed one had.

The other had chosen a white dress, powder-blue flowers embroidered along the edges of the skirt and corset, its low-cut bodice the opposite of the inconspicuous garb we’d planned.

Cebrinne shoved the men’s clothes at me.

“No,” I said, grabbing the white dress instead. “You’re the one escaping—” I paused, eyes shifting to the two women. “No.”

She shook the clothes, but I’d already stepped into the open bodice.

The two women watched in silence, buttoning each other into our lavish gowns.

How ironic that Cebrinne used to let me win all our arguments, and only after she’d lost her voice did she push harder to make me forfeit my side.

She waited until I was completely finished, her hand on her hip and her toe tapping the tile floor of the women’s washroom along the eastern marina, teal eyes gouging me with obstinance until I heaved a tortured sigh and yanked my stays loose.

“I’d like to look these contracts over,” the shrewd woman said.

Halfway out of her moon-damned dress, I paused to shove them into her chest. “Go ahead. But these are only copies. They’re not stamped or signed by your matron, nor signed by me. Your legal documents are on the ship with the captain. You can have them when you disembark from Cypria.”

She glared, flicking her gaze to her comrade.

“You may go,” I said, wadding the dress into a lumpy mess for Cebrinne.

She unraveled it, straightening the whale-bone corset.

We watched them swish their way out, our tickets to Cressi tucked into the skirts of two pleasure servants.

A stitch tightened into my belly, nerves whispering the ballad of danger.

Cebrinne lowered the dress enough to step inside, shimmying it up her hips. The garment was perhaps a touch tighter on her than it had been on the other woman. Cebrinne’s curves dipped and flared as smoothly as a figure blown from glass.

Straps hung from her shoulders, two ribbons meant to be tied together. I fixed my leather belt then stepped in close, fastening them for her. “When you get there,” I said softly. “Let yourself be picky. Don’t just settle for the first pair of island eyes you see.”

Cebrinne offered a small snort.

“In fact, I forbid you from it,” I continued, moving to tie her other shoulder.

“Put a bit of effort into choosing, Ceba. You’re allowed to choose love for yourself.

So, choose it. Don’t hurry up to get it over with.

Don’t just appoint yourself a husband to fill a slot.

Choose love.” Her mouth twitched with the shadow of a placating smile, but she gave me a slow nod. I held out a pinky. “Promise?”

She took it in hers.

I quickly blinked mist from my eyes. “But don’t take forever deciding, either. Don’t drag your feet. You only have three years.” Cebrinne disappeared as I thrust the shirt over my head, popping out the other side. “Don’t be afraid to be a floozy if you have to. You’ll never—”

She pulled me in. Wrapped her arms around me and sank her forehead into my neck.

Then breathed deep, as though burning the scent of me into her memory like a brand.

I swallowed hard, nestling my head into the crook of her shoulder.

“It’s only twenty-five years,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if the words were more for her benefit or mine. “It will go by in a flash.”

It wouldn’t.

It would drag on, each day longer than the last. I already knew.

Cebrinne pulled away far enough to wipe my cheeks with her thumbs.

She sniffed, tucking her hair behind her ear and bending to open the small canvas bag she’d packed.

The corner of the book I’d given her appeared as she rummaged to the depths, drawing out a small cylinder wrapped in parchment and handing it to me .

My heart thudded as I unwrapped the candle she’d poured with Aegir’s help. The wick had been lit, a dull patch of red floating under the hardened wax surface. She’d already set things in motion under the autumn blood moon.

It’s the promise of a Triad. It will light itself when the first enters Perpetuum.

My shoulders softened. My throat hardened. Here it was. Not quite a countdown. But not quite anything else. I imagined the little golden-eyed boy leapfrogging with his brother. I imagined Cebrinne’s daughter, a version of herself with dark eyes.

I imagined my sister taking that first step off the edge of the world, the silver dust of Death walking by her side.

“You were never afraid,” I said. “I don’t know how to be brave without you.”

Cebrinne shook her head. She tried to say something, her lips cradling silent words. But no sound drifted from her mouth. She swallowed in frustration then tried again, waiting for me to recognize the movement of her lips. Sometimes I could. But this time, I couldn’t.

We each blinked back stinging disappointment. Thaan had stripped us of our lives one small second at a time. How fitting he’d stripped us of our goodbye as well.

Cebrinne had been abducted from her home. Her mind had been invaded; her body violated. In comparison, the act of being silenced might have seemed minimal. But I think that’s what cut the deepest. Out of everything that happened to us, that’s what haunted her most.

Because a man can cage you. Command you. Send you to his enemies as bait. Keep you in his rooms so you can’t escape. Decide what you’ll wear, what you’ll eat, where you’ll sleep.

But the worst thing a man can do is steal your voice.

For a moment, Cebrinne had that look in her eyes.

I’d seen it rarely, watching prisoners climb the steps to the gallows, their backs straight and proud as their executioner fit their noose around their neck.

A determination calm and sure, an unwavering resolve I’ll spend my life chasing for just a taste of.

But as quickly as it came, it was gone.

I twisted my hair over the crown of my head. Cebrinne fit my hat into place. We each smiled, though the smiles shaped our mouths strangely. Lumpy and awkward. I swallowed again. "You were right, by the way."

My sister raised a brow.

"A boor and a boar are separate things. I looked it up, but I didn't want to tell you."

She rolled her eyes, mouth pursed as though pinning down a smile. The bells in the market chimed. We counted them silently. One, two, three…

“Your ship is boarding,” I said, my voice wobblier than I would have liked.

Cebrinne held out her pinky.

I took it in mine.

One last promise. I didn’t need to tell her I loved her. That I always would. That the bond between us was endless. As deep as the sea; as infinite as the stars.

I simply whispered, “Until the ocean dries up.”

She mouthed the words back at me, and in my mind, her voice echoed from every corner.

Until the moon burns out.

I sighed heavily, fitting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. We’d decided it would be a risk to walk each other through the shipyard, but trading farewells here felt wrong . But we knew each other well enough to recognize each of our stalling methods.

“I hope she’s just like you,” I said. “And I can’t wait to meet her.”

At the mention of her future daughter, Cebrinne smiled, and I had to hold my breath. It was a full smile. A beaming smile. Her eyes sparkled, her chest swelled, her cheeks rounded. I’d seen it so few times, but the radiance of it never failed to capture me.

The twelfth bell tolled. We’d waited long enough for the hooded Naiad that had trailed us since we’d left the palace to follow our decoys instead.

Time to go.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, hiking the loose pants over my hips. Cebrinne followed me out the door and into the clamor of the market. Her eyes locked on me. Mine locked onto her. We watched each other drift away.

Neither of us saw the man who shadowed our steps.