Page 77 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn

He gives a curt nod, before motioning a bandana in my direction. I wrap it around my hair, and he adjusts from behind, the fabric rustling my braided hair until it’s situated. My outfit is essentially everything I normally wear just looser, and he even aids me into a bodice to keep my breasts in place. There’s no way I’m moving about with floppy tits, as a certain blonde would put it. I smile sadly when her face enters my mind, and as Soren’s tying the back. “What is it?”

“I miss Kathleen,” I admit without reservation. “She’s the one that taught me about finding aproperlyfitting bodice and how comfortable they can be.”

“She’s very safe where she is.”

There’s not a lot more said because I’m tired of worrying, and at some point, I have to hope for the best. It kills me to think I may never get to see her again, but imagining her face in my mind’s eye makes me feel like she would be majorly pissed if all I did was wallow when I’m sailing on apirate ship.

I’ll keep my head up for you, Kathleen. We promised we’d share these stories one day.

The two of us make our way to the mess deck, and I follow closely in his shadow. My presence garners a lot of attention, andso does Soren’s, a sea of gazes bouncing between us. Especially when he has to duck to avoid certain beams.

“What do they eat here?” I ask, passing by one man sweeping the deck.

“The swaying of a ship means fires aren’t the safest. So, biscuits, dried meats, and beans. Stews when it’s calm.”

Don’t complain. “Delicious.”

He smiles at me. “Do you miss being spoiled, Jane?”

“That’s your fault. And at least I like beans.”

“Well, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself on board, then.”

The hustle and bustle of the crew is captivating, especially since I feel completely removed from danger with Soren here. They all remind me of the coal miners, where each person has a role to keep the rest flowing.

A man passes Soren, one that looks to belong to him, handing over something wrapped in leather.The Zenith takes it as if nothing occurred, indicating to our table—one of the few in here—which is also bolted into the ground. The behemoth sits across from me, my back to the ship’s wall. I can’t spot my dad anywhere when I survey the space, which feels cramped with the low ceiling.

“Where is my dad?” I ask, feeling like a lost kid since he’s the second person I’ve asked this about.

“Around here, somewhere. Felt him earlier.” A man who definitely belongs to Tempest nears us with a bowl of beans, and some biscuits wrapped in linen, crumbs dusting the table’s surface. His skin is kissed so much from the sun he may as well have been smothered by it; his nose and cheeks are red, his hands as dry as sand. A chained necklace with a wolf pendant dangles as he bends over to place the food on our table. “Tempest says if you need any more food, let us know, sir. Not much of a selection, but we do have plenty of it.”

He turns around just as quickly as he appeared, swaying fluidly like he knows the exact motion the ship will make.

Casually lifting his fork packed with beans, Soren sucks in his lips before pressing them together. “I hate beans.”

The comment incites a small, high-pitched laugh out of me, which only continues to roll into a full one; I didn’t expect his weakness to be alegume. I take a large mouthful, surprised it has some of the same seasonings that Mom used to use. “I think they’re delicious.”

The clinking of utensils on plates and laughter from those around gives us a sense of privacy as he forces himself to eat. I lean over on my elbows. “You better eat all of that. I bet you need a massive amount.”

“Just like training back in the day when I ate shit food.”

After a few large bites that he forces down, he rests his fork on the table and reaches down to the wrapped leather handed to him, sliding it across the table to me. “The blacksmith with your father was adamant he’d get this made before we left. He handed it to me after we parted back in the Undercroft.”

“What is it?” I ask, looking at the soft, brown leather.

“I don’t know, almost like it’s difficult to open and find out,” he sarcastically replies.

I throw him a look like I’d hit him if he were closer. Reaching out, I unwind it until a sheathed dagger is revealed, along with a holster for the thigh. At the center of the hilt is a rose, with what looks like tiny vines wrapping around each side. The sheath is bright red, with bronze fastenings at the top and bottom. “What…”

“I had him make you a dagger. You were so worried about being useless,” Soren clarifies, leaning over and drinking some water. “Figured it was worth getting you something that shows you’re not. You’re your father’s daughter, that’s for fucking sureafter everything I’ve felt. You should have your own weapon fit for someone of his rank. Ofyourrank.”

If I thought I felt romantic things for this man, this takes it to another realm I didn’t know existed. My fingers gently roam the smooth blade, utterly amazed at how beautiful it is.

“You…” I start, connecting my gaze with his. Pride gleams in his eyes, like he knows he did well. “I don’t—thank you.” I glance back down at it. “What if I lose it?”

“Why would you lose it?”

If Misery takes me…“There could be a fight, and it gets knocked out of my hands.”