Page 56 of A Sea of Vows and Silence (The Naiads of Juile #3)

Cebrinne

C alderians swarmed the harbor. A tapestry of motion and color and noise. Waves lapped at wooden keels, seagulls and crows screeched from the top of tall masts, and voices overlapped in a cacophony of racket that seemed to blend seamlessly together.

I’d planned to dart between wandering crowds, but the passageways were so thin between stacked crates, the scale of merchants and sailors so numerous, I hardly had to hide.

The Cerulean’s name offered a prettier picture than the ship itself.

She was old. Not as haggard as some of the other trading ships buoyed against the docks, but worn and weathered just the same, a thick film of barnacles and algae visible just under the waterline, her gray sails patched and frayed.

She wasn’t a cruising vessel. None of the ships that visited Leihani were.

But we’d managed to secure a passage with a fish merchant, a fact I became all too aware of as I stepped across the gangway and onto the quarterdeck, the smell of salt and ocean water warring with the faint scent of seaside decay.

My name wasn’t in any manifest, and I didn’t have a ticket for the captain to stamp.

No trail for Thaan to follow. Instead, I offered the captain a leather purse of fraggs .

Half of our agreed amount. The other half would be waiting for him in his harbor office after my safe arrival.

Not that there’d be any way to confirm anything.

Selena would be headed north by now with her own troupe of Rivean merchants, and we’d decided it would be safest not to exchange letters of any kind.

Our creed lived in the words of Theia. The faith in her prophecy.

And, for me, hope in the certainty that Selena wouldn’t be alone. If I trusted anyone with my sister, it was the Naiad who would have killed a king for her.

The line of human sailors paused their work to let their gaze linger over my skin as I passed, sending a gust of hot wind across the back of my shoulders. It wasn’t that I was afraid of them—but the lack of my song left me more vulnerable than I’d have liked.

The captain snapped his fingers at a man who looked as though he’d just rolled around in a barrel of oil.

“Thought you might not show,” he said, a gold tooth glinting as he held out his hand for my fraggs .

He gave the leather bag a gentle bounce in the palm of his hand, weighing it, then let it drop into a pocket.

“We don’t have private cabins onboard The Cerulean.

You’re either in the main berth with the men or with me. ”

Movement seemed to cease as the entire crew waited for my answer. Had I been able to sing, I might not have cared. Either option would have been easy enough to deal with.

But I didn’t enjoy the thought of being locked below alone with men—whether one respectable one or a crew of them.

Shrugging my shoulders, I sank onto a flat crate shoved against the wooden rail, letting my canvas sack drop to my feet.

The captain gave a heh and turned to his first mate. “Another thirty minutes for the quartermaster to fill the crew,” he called. “Then we’ll prepare to hoist anchor.”

Thirty minutes. I’d cut it close.

A small handful of men joined the ship, their lives strapped to their backs in salt-stained canvas.

I studied the afternoon moon, high in the sky for this time of day, and wondered if Theia happened to be watching me.

The first jolt of slow movement woke me from an idle stupor, and I realized the dock was floating away.

Calder was floating away.

The Cerulean drifted from port enough to unfurl her sails. They snapped open against the sailor’s ropes like the wings of a butterfly, their centers fluttering against the wind, and a sudden jolt propelled us forward.

To Leihani.

Clouds passed, but the sun shone through, each beam growing stronger.

The evening rays left my face tilted up and my eyes closed, my legs stretched over the crate like a satisfied cat.

Night fell, and the air only grew warmer.

I pinned my hair in a pile on the back of my neck and hiked my skirt, suddenly grateful the pleasure servant refused to wear pants.

My neck ached, and my hips groaned from sitting on a wooden box for hours. But by morning, the sea was as clear and turquoise as aquamarine, and I suddenly understood why it was named for a jewel.

Porpoises dove in and out of the waves carved by The Cerulean’s bow. The sailors danced around me, tacking sails and swinging booms and turning into the southern horizon. The ship chased the different currents of the wind, shifting in and out of the gusts, following an invisible line south.

Naiads were said to hate ships. But here, there was no glass. There were no towers. The only bridges in the sky were the constellations that hung between the stars. I stayed there all night, casting wishes to them like pennies in a well.

Keep Selena safe.

Keep Selena happy.

And don’t let Thaan die. Not before I have the chance to kill him.

“That’s Luaahi,” the quartermaster said, pointing at the speck of land ahead.

His braided hair was an inky black; he almost reminded me of Vouri’s mate, Sindri, though he lacked Sindri’s quiet nature.

I tucked my chin into the palm of my hand, ignoring the squeeze in my belly as I thought of the Naiad I’d killed a year ago.

That numbness in my heart hadn’t faded. The gaping, widening echo of nothing as the days mottled into seasons. But I’d wondered often what Thaan had done with her body.

If Aegir had somehow managed to get her back.

The sailor leaned his mop handle against the railing, resting his weight onto his elbows as he gazed with me at the sea.

Like the other sailors, he was careful not to look me in the eyes, a flush gathering across their cheeks when they came close.

“It’s not much to look at. Mostly cliffs and rock.

But in an hour, you’ll see Neris, and it’s beautiful.

” He waited for me to respond, as all humans did.

I could never decide if they were simply being polite, or if silence made them uncomfortable.

The sailors knew I didn’t speak, but they often forgot.

Unless, perhaps, they shared their questions and stories for the chance to strike my attention, a thought that would have once irritated me more than anything else.

The sailor sucked his teeth. “The locals believe it’s cursed.

Their legends say any man that sets foot there will drown.

But my uncle once met a man who ventured onto it.

” He paused to waggle his brows at me. “Said he stumbled through the ferns to find a goddess sitting on the rocks, waiting for him. Said it sent shivers down his spine. She took him into the moss and had her way with him. Then they returned to the beach, and she walked into the sea. He thought she was just bathing, and he waited for her for hours. But she never came back.”

Chin still in my hand, I angled my eyes to face him with a brow raised.

“He was probably all sheets to the wind.” The quartermaster laughed, miming a bottle in his hand.

“Sailors are romantic fools. The only thing more superstitious than an old wife is a seasoned sailor, but we hoard our stories like our shanties.” He bent his knees, picking up his bucket.

“We’re in the Nahli Channel now. It won’t be much longer until we land.

If you have valuables anywhere other than in that bag, I’d collect them. ”

He pretended not to watch me as he walked away, but I could feel his eyes hot against my back.

Luaahi passed. Far ahead, the second island winked into view, though the sun’s glare over the water veiled it each time we crested a swell.

Slowly, it grew. The ship swung wide to clear it, offering the floating isle a thick berth.

Everything about it glittered. Golden sand, obsidian rock, palms like swaying jade.

If it was truly cursed, it was only cursed with sirens. I knew well enough how to deal with those. I gave the seawater below a gentle flick. My voice was gone, but my call remained, hidden beneath my fingertips.

With a sigh, I stood, arching my back to stretch. I’d been careful to keep my belongings together on my quarterdeck crate, but I’d fished Selena’s book out early that morning to read under the dawning sun.

Sailors breezed across the main deck in their frenzy to ready for the harbor.

I turned and squeezed between them, careful to stay out of their way as I roamed to the port side of The Cerulean .

My lacquered canvas book lay out of sight, on top of a stacked barrel of salt I’d climbed that morning.

Hooking my toes over the rim of the barrel below it, I hoisted myself up, reaching a hand over my head to feel for the book.

And found only the rough-hewn wooden lid .

I frowned, pulling myself up all the way to look.

It wasn’t there. My mouth warped itself into the soundless shape of a curse, my gaze dropping to the deck surrounding the barrels as I reigned in a sudden burst of panic.

The ship wasn’t full enough with goods for the book to have a place to hide.

It had left Calder with its cargo hold emptied, leaving room for the fish Leihani would provide.

Which left the sea.

My heart gave a violent lurch as the vision of my sister’s stupid romance novel tumbling out to the waves broke through the walls of my mind.

No. It couldn’t have. I’d wedged it under the lip of the barrel lid. Even with the wild roll of the ocean, the book should have remained snug.

Someone took it.

My eyes narrowed. I turned, my attention shifting over each of the sailors as they adjusted canvas and lifted crates, wondering which idiotic man might possibly hold an interest in a silly love story.

Sailors are romantic fools.

A toss of black hair snagged my gaze in time to see the quartermaster disappear down the stairs to the hold below.

Without my song, I wasn't sure how I’d interrogate him. But I shoved away from the rail anyway, trailing his steps into the dim oil-lamp light of the berth. The stench of bodies replaced the scent of ocean air. Stale sweat and unwashed skin, notes of mildew as I passed the hammocks.

Crates and barrels and things draped in canvas covered every inch of the crew’s quarters, but my eyes caught the dim slant of a glass-door cabinet filled with swords and daggers.

Weapons in the event of a pirate attack.

The quartermaster’s voice meandered to my ears over the clatter of pans in the ship’s galley as he spoke with the cook. I’d have to wait for him.

Shuffling my feet backwards into the shadows of the wall, my spine pressed against something both soft and firm.

Something like a chest .

I wrenched myself away, twisting to see what I’d bumped into, and managed to make out the edge of a shoulder and elbow as two arms wrapped around my waist.

Shock opened my mouth.

But no sound came out.