Page 23 of Death’s Kiss (The Order of the Tide Raiders #1)
T he stars seem particularly bright tonight.
Holding up my hands, I form an open circle between my thumbs and index fingers. I challenge myself to find and name each of the different constellations. They’re all scattered like hidden worlds across the wide midnight plain above me.
Sounds of laughter and shouting and even whistling reverberate from both above and below where I currently lie in mine and Kleio’s secret spot.
My back rests flat against the knotted cords of black netting holding my horizontal body aloft.
The nets themselves are strung around each of the thorn-like spires and border every edge of our northern fortress, but I have no idea why.
Not even Skelm could claim they’re for safety measures and keep a straight face.
My personal purpose for them is for nights exactly like this one. When the outside world has become too much to process and my numerous facades much too heavy to wear .
The TideLords left directly after the close of the first pillar trial.
We were assured that the seventh Lord, the only one missing from today’s events, would be there to judge the next.
A part of me can’t help circling back to Vash’s earlier suspicions and wondering if there’s any weight to them.
Should I be concerned about what’s going on with the landmasses? The drifters?
Anytime I begin mulling over his worries, I myself just can’t seem to find the point. Why bother caring when they’re just as likely to be our allies one day as they are our targets the next?
Besides, I'm a castaway, I don’t see what good the landmasses are to me anyhow.
I stop searching the celestial seas in order to turn over my left arm for inspection.
My thumb brushes absently over the brand around my wrist. The one that claims me as gods-blessed and supposedly determines me worthy enough to come back from Nawai. Worthy enough to be sent to the The Sons and Daughters and, by extension, the Tide Raiders.
Yet not worthy enough to retain my memory, apparently.
The brand is bright against the fading summer tan of my skin and it encircles my wrist like a bracelet. It depicts a skeleton belonging to some great sea serpent eating its own tail.
We are told by the Sons and Daughters after washing up on the Sál Moon that the unique mark symbolizes our descent to the netherdepths and subsequent return from it.
It symbolizes the great cycle between us and the spirit realm of Nawai, just beneath the veil.
Although personally, the longer we’re here, the more I find it appears eerily similar to a shackle.
While others have varying different shades coloring their Tide Raider brand, like hues of greens, blues, purples, black, or even gold, mine is indisputably white . As is my affinity mark and even my hair.
White is a blatant sign given from the drowned gods to signal a castaway.
Without family, without home, without color .
In my case, also without memory .
“Pouting?” A familiar taunting voice shouts down at me from above.
Tilting my head backwards towards the spire window now fully open, I spot Kleio grinning in my direction.
She lifts up a bottle of liquid recklessness and I can’t help but chuckle with the shake of my head.
My amusement only grows while watching her climb through the awkward opening and roll down onto the nets, managing to stick the landing without spilling a drop.
“Why would I be pouting?” I ask easily as Kleio carefully makes her way over to where I lay before the very edge of the nets.
"Oh, I know how you hate to lose. Though I myself wouldn’t consider the second highest score in the first pillar trial losing by any means, I’m well aware of your aversion to anything less than first,” she teases, finally reaching my spot and sliding down to sit beside where I lie.
"I'm not technically second," I remind her with a roll of my eyes. “I’m tied for second, which practically makes me third. Even worse, I’m tied with that fucking jackass so yeah—it kind of does feel like a loss.” Each word grows more heated until I’ve completely proved her point.
Kleio snorts a laugh over the glass bottles' rim before tipping it backwards and taking a lengthy drink. She pushes the liquid recklessness into my hands next. “Well then, drink up, loser.”
My second always knows precisely what to say to turn my moods and I find it impossible to restrain my own snort of amusement. I swipe the bottle from her hands before promptly tipping it back myself. The green liquor slides down my throat with an electrifying sort of sensation.
“Where on Pontus did you manage to get a bottle of anquil liquor from?” I demand.
Kleio answers simply, "Vash," before stealing back the bottle.
I huff in acknowledgement before lying back down, both arms coming to rest behind my head. “I do appreciate the pep talk, Hiraeth but I’m really alright. You should head back inside and rejoin the others. ”
Kleio swallows, sliding closer to where I’m strung out along the netting. I accept the bottle she hands me, choke down two rather ambitious mouthfuls, and send it her way once more.
“Liar,” she mutters beneath her breath.
Her tone is too uncharacteristically snappish for me to disregard. My gaze flickers over to find her eyes locked onto the stars.
“I know you, Merena,” Kleio states, after a moment, exasperated. “And you’ve been off since the start of this level. Even before the trials and the other cardinals arriving. You’re just so—” she motions with a hand for emphasis while taking another sizzling gulp, “ restrained .”
My lips form a line while twisting the golden band around the middle finger of my right hand. It’s one of my very few, and therefore highly treasured, possessions. A four-star compass is engraved on top with a burning blue gemstone in place of the north symbol. My captaincy ring.
“Comes with the territory, I suppose.” My voice is barely more than a distracted murmur.
Kleio eyes me for a moment. “Just because you’re a captain doesn’t mean you’re no longer entitled to having feelings or reactions of any kind.
We chose you because you’re a leader, one that doesn’t follow every single order rule.
I actually seem to remember you spent most of your first five years here, breaking as many as possible. ”
I listen to her speech while sipping on the bootleg bottle.
The pleasant heady buzz filling me, courtesy of said bottle, allows my next words to slip past my tongue easier than usual. “I did, and as I remember it, that rule-breaking and back talking didn’t get me anywhere except into more trouble. Trouble that led to rather unpleasant punishments.”
Kleio winces, and the brown curls of her high knot start pulling loose in the midnight breeze.
“If I seem restrained, it’s because I know I’m not the only one who can be subjected to the disciplinary procedures that will follow.
” I pause in order to swallow. “I’m not just risking my own neck anymore when telling a Preceptor to fuck off.
If I’m caught sneaking out or breaking curfew or even throwing a punch the next time someone calls me a name—do you seriously think it’s only me who’ll be suffering those consequences? ”
My voice has started to rise, and I gruffly hand the anquil to my second. Her face studies the sky while mulling over my rant. After a moment, Kleio says, “We can handle it.”
I snort, moving up to my forearms and giving her a look with brows raised. “Oh? Is that so? Let’s say they toss you to Bealu the next time I decide to get a little mouthy. You’re telling me that you'll be just fine with that?”
Kleio’s face pales before turning a bright pink as she pulls again from the bottle. I mentally replay the look of absolute terror on my second’s face that night they were caught on the shore by him. I recall quite clearly just how suffocating the threat of his vile affinity was to them all.
“I can handle Bealu, Merena,” Kleio states evenly, and my brows raise further. "Okay, no, I don’t happen to love his method of ripping out my few happy memories, but it isn’t like he hasn’t done it before.” The following sigh she emits is long and low.
Kleio shifts to meet my gaze, and I discover the usual warmth in her eyes has dimmed, it makes something painful constrict in my chest. “I think you forget that we made it through all seven years of hell too. We all made it to the eighth level. Each one of us has earned our place here. We are not innocent, we are not soft, we are not in need of your protection at every twist and turn.”
My teeth bite the inside of my lip while my second’s assessment washes over me.
After a considering pause, I nod quietly to her in acknowledgment.
Kleio’s voice comes out softer now. “I think you also sometimes forget who it was throwing punches right beside you whenever anyone called you a name or made crude jokes about your memory loss or any number of other terrible shit they threw your way. ”
The anquil makes my head a bit lighter, and it’s easier to relax deeper into the netting while letting out a breathy chuckle. “How could I ever forget you slamming that poor level-six into one of your energy shields until his nose shattered?”
Kleio lets out a guffaw at the memory. “Poor level- six ? We were only in level-four! It was his fault for picking a fight he couldn’t win.”
My grin isn't forced one bit as I gaze up towards the velvet sky.
"Today, or I guess by now it was yesterday, whatever. When you were facing that kelpie—I damn near lost it. I mean, I think Herse and Greer were holding me back by their fingernails at one point.” Kleio snorts faintly to herself. “So I do understand your instinct to protect us.”
We each take another drink.
“And it’s not that I don’t love watching people shit their pants whenever you give them one of your I-will-end-your-next-breath glares. I really and truly enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes as the temperature plummets, ” Kleio adds. Her hands come whooshing down to the nets in emphasis.