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Andor

“Where’s Brynla?” Feet, my crewman, says to me as he passes me a mug of something. “We’re about to start our card game. Always helps to have an even number of players.”

“I think she’s on deck,” I say, sniffing the drink. I make a face. “Oh, did Toombs make his grog again?”

“It’s rum,” Toombs announces, slapping me on the back, making the drink spill over, the acidic molasses smell filling the air.

“It’s grog,” I correct him. He holds out his mug and I sigh reluctantly, tipping my vessel against his. “Down the hatch, I guess.”

I drink back the awful stuff while everyone else chants, “Down the hatch, down the hatch!”

I manage to swallow it down and suddenly my mug is already refilled and I’m somehow holding two mugs.

“That one is for Brynla,” Toombs says. “The girl has been awfully quiet these last two days. She might want something for the nerves. We’ll be landing in the Banished Land tomorrow.”

“Ask her if she’ll play cards,” Feet adds.

I nod and head up the stairs to the top deck, two mugs filled with grog rum.

It’s quiet up here, the winds steady but the seas calm, and the sky is peppered with bright stars.

The first few days at sail after leaving the Midlands we had the same rough waves as we had going into it, but as we get closer to Esland and the Banished Land of the south, the more things have turned.

I wonder if it’s an omen, a warning that things might not be so calm ahead.

Kirney is at the helm for the evening, which is just as well when Toombs has broken out the homemade rum.

I nod at him at the wheel and then look down the deck to see Brynla at the bow, Lemi lying dutifully by her side.

She’s staring right at the moonlit waters, the reflection slightly pink in the faint glow of the cycle’s pink moon, and though her face is turned away from me, I can picture the serious, wistful expression on her face.

Ever since we got off the Midlands with our lives barely intact, she’s become a little distant.

Sometimes I wonder if her pain is back and she’s been trying to hide it.

Other times I wonder if perhaps I said too much.

Maybe I acted too strongly. I thought I was keeping myself in check; I thought I was doing the noble thing, the right thing, by offering to let her go.

To free her from the bargain she never wanted to make in the first place.

Perhaps she regretted not taking me up on it.

Perhaps the moment we step foot in the Dark City, a place I’ve never been but one she would know like the back of her hand, she plans to leave me for good.

Or lead me into a trap.

Moon didn’t say anything about her aunt except that she was waiting for us.

So she’ll be waiting for us…

I push the thought out of my head. Brynla saved my life the other day. I have no reason not to trust her. It’s especially fair when I keep asking her to trust me.

Lemi’s head comes up and his tail thumps a couple of times against the deck when he sees me. Honestly, the idea of Brynla not being by my side pains me, but I’d miss the dog almost as much.

Her head turns slightly and she eyes me from the side, but she doesn’t move from where she’s leaning on the bow, the waves slicing below in a rhythmic manner, music to my ears.

Her hair is in a loose braid and she’s wearing her leather breeches and a navy shirt she borrowed from me, made more fitted by tying it with rope at the waist. I’ve never seen a woman wearing my clothes before, and I have to admit, it does something for me, like it’s a visual sign that she’s mine .

But I’d be a fool to start thinking that way, especially when so much hangs in the balance.

“I have something for you,” I say, holding out the mug. “You’re under no pressure to drink it. It’s Toombs’s rum. Well, grog. Rum grog.”

She takes it and gives it a sniff, her nose wrinkling. “Ah, Toombs’s infamous grog. I was wondering when he would finally break it open.”

Then to my surprise she puts the mug to her lips and gulps it back with ease.

“Whoa,” I say, reaching out to stop her. “Careful now, this is very strong.”

She winces, making a face. “I know.”

Then she drinks the rest of it in a few more gulps until the mug is empty, and she hands it back to me.

“Gods of the realm, I can’t tell if I should be impressed or turned on,” I admit.

She bursts out laughing.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in days,” I add quietly.

She composes herself quickly and I feel bad that I mentioned it at all. I love her laugh. It sounds like joy and music.

“Sorry if I’ve been keeping to myself,” she says, looking back at the sea. “I haven’t been feeling right.”

“Does it hurt?” I ask warily. “Is the pain back?”

She shrugs. “A little, barely noticeable.”

I can’t help but feel deflated. Now it’s my time to drink. I slam back a few gulps before I have to quit. Gods, it’s awful.

She quickly looks at me with an apologetic expression. “You gave me relief for days, Andor. That’s more than anyone has given me. If the pain comes back, you know I’ll come calling. This is the closest thing to a miracle that I’ve ever witnessed.”

At least I’m useful for something , I think, though I wish it weren’t wrapped around her pain.

Then she reaches out and takes my mug from me. “May I?”

Before I can say anything she finishes the rest of the grog. I take it from her fingers before she drops it, studying her as if she’ll give me any sort of hint as to why she’s drinking like a fish.

“Are you all right?” I ask. “Because you’re drinking rum grog like you’re not all right. Even Toombs wouldn’t drink that much, that fast, and he has that for his breakfast.”

“I’m just a little anxious,” she says, rubbing her hands together as she looks up at the moon.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get there.

I don’t know if Ellestra will leave with us, if she’ll put up a fuss if I leave, if she’ll try to kill you.

If Lemi will decide he doesn’t want to leave.

I don’t know. That city has always felt like my home—whether I wanted to claim it or not—and the idea of saying goodbye scares me.

In a good way, maybe, but…I know once I leave, I won’t ever go back.

And though the people there can seem dejected and hardened, they are kind in a rough sort of way and loyal, and I fit in there.

I don’t fit in when it comes to Norland, and especially not the Kolbecks. ”

“I don’t want you to fit in,” I tell her. “I want you to stay the way you are. Let everyone else adapt.”

“Easy for you to say,” she says, glancing at me with a caustic smile.

My chest flares with indignation. “It’s not easy for me to say. I don’t adapt. I struggle with it.”

She takes in the tone of my voice. “Nothing ever seems like a struggle to you, Andor.”

I shake my head. “I’m the black sheep of the family.

The outcast. Everyone has their place in the family business except for me.

Because I refuse to do it their way…” I trail off, knowing that’s not quite true.

“Or should I say, it’s not because I won’t do it, but because I can’t.

I’ve tried, time and time again, to do the role like my uncle has.

I’ve tried to be the master of the coins, to run the numbers, to stay organized on the raids, keep track of the substances Steiner produces and how much money the armies need, but I couldn’t do it.

I just can’t. My brain doesn’t work that way, it’s as if it physically won’t let me.

It’s like a slab of stone falls in front of my thoughts and I can’t get through.

I fuck things up left and right, I forget things, I’m a disaster.

And no matter how hard I try to be the person my father wants me to be, I just can’t. ”

I let out a shaking breath and look out to the waves. “So I adapt but in the only way I can. I find something else, something that no one else will do, because no one else is foolish enough to do it.”

“I steal eggs too,” she says.

“Yes, and you got paid for it. I don’t get paid for it.

I do it because it’s the only way to feel like I’m contributing, to feel like I’m some use.

I know my father could hire out thieves—I bet he’d love to keep you onboard and lose me in the process.

But as long as I do the job and I’m good enough at it, I’m doing my part.

And yet…I’m still on the fringes of the family.

I don’t belong. I’m just Andor, the son my father wishes he’d never had.

” I peer inside the glass. “Fuck. Now I’m the one who could drink a whole one of these. ”

She reaches out and puts her hand over mine.

“Your father is an idiot, Andor. Your uncle too. You make them feel small because you are out here risking your life and slaying dragons and getting the very product that keeps your house in business. They’re jealous and they’ll always be jealous of you, because you know who you are and you don’t give a fuck if someone has a problem with it.

Now, where do we get more grog? Apparently we both need it tonight. ”

We start walking down the deck and she’s starting to wobble a little, the drinks finally hitting her. Once we’re downstairs, the card game is already underway.

“I thought you wanted Brynla to join in,” I say to Feet while gesturing at Toombs to get me two more things of rum grog.

“I couldn’t wait,” Feet says, shuffling his cards. “I’m itching to earn some goddess gold before we get to the Dark City. I want to buy one of those fabled lava teas that make women horny when they drink it.” He looks at Brynla. “Do those teas really exist?”

“No one is buying any horny tea,” I tell them, looking them all in the eye before they get carried away. “None of you are even going inside the Dark City.”

“What?” Toombs says as he comes over with the jug of rum grog. “We’re not letting you go on your own.”