Page 12 of The Withering Dawn (Wicked Tides)

Nazario had gone to the helm and stayed there for the rest of the day. I could tell by the look on his face that he intended to have the wheel until he could not stay awake any longer. Whoever Antonio was, telling him where he might possibly be had altered his character. He looked more determined. Reinvigorated somehow. I was glad I could give him that motivation but saddened at the fact that the motivation came from somewhere dark and unresolved.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself outside of a locked cell and, not wanting to disturb Nazario’s very obvious focus, I isolated myself at the bow of the ship, sitting with my legs hanging through the railings so I could watch the water beat on the hull.

The Amanacer was different than other ships I’d been on. She felt almost alive and the men treated her as if she was. She was clean and well cared for. Even the figurehead had character. It was a horse head, its chin tightly tucked over an intricately carved sun painted gold. The whole thing was a bit abstract, though. It took me a while to figure out the shape holding the sun was a horse head, but once I did, I found myself staring at it for a good portion of the day.

The breeze was cool. I hiked my dress up so my bare legs could feel it, deciding that every experience should be savored in case my fate was yet the inside of a cell or death. After learning that Henry and the others who attacked me were dead, I did not want to fool myself into thinking the crew would not have their suspicions. Every stroke of bad luck seemed to lead back to me and I wondered if perhaps I truly was cursed like Nazario had said.

After many hours, the tension in my body that I barely knew I’d been harboring began to seep away like bad blood draining from a festering wound. And as it did, I felt lighter and lighter. It was only when I heard boots walking my way that the tension came back. For most of the day, the men didn’t pay much attention to me. The occasional sideways glance didn’t bother me, but feeling someone approaching made me sit up straight.

I turned and saw Cathal, Nazario’s quartermaster, walking toward me with a rickety wooden stool in one hand and a thick slice of bread in the other. He set the stool down and sat with an exaggerated groan, making him sound much older than he looked. Then, unexpectedly, he handed me the bread atop a white cloth.

“Cap’n says ye need to eat,” he said.

I took the bread, which had a layer of mashed beans on top, and put it in my lap.

But Cathal wasn’t leaving. Instead, he perched his elbows on his knees and started staring out at the setting sun. The features of his sun-tanned face relaxed, emanating the kind of serenity I felt when I stared at the horizon.

“Nothin’ like a sunset on the open ocean,” he said.

I took a small bite of bread and chewed it carefully, unsure if I was supposed to engage in conversation. I couldn’t help taking in the colors of the sinking sun. The whole sky was exploding with red brilliance, lighting up the clouds like plumes of floating fire.

“That’s why the ship is called the Amanacer, ye know.”

I turned to him, curious. “What does it mean?”

“Cap’n named it. Means ‘the dawn’.”

“But it is dusk.”

He smiled. “Right. Suppose that’s different. When we were all just boys, Nazario found himself a book of poems. One was called ‘The Withering Dawn.’ It was about how there is no darker moment than the time before the sun rises. But after dawn, we are all filled with hope that there will be no darkness again only to be disappointed when the sun sets once more. But just like the world is darkest before dawn, it is brightest afterwords. Dawn is the in-between where we decide whether we are going to be glad to have come out of the darkness or too fearful of its return to enjoy the light.”

I swallowed my bite of food, letting his words stew for a while. I wanted to know which side of the line I stood on and as I continued to eat, I pondered if I’d ever seen the line in the first place. Hope was something I’d lost a long time ago. It happened gradually and when it turned to ash, it was too late. I hadn’t even realized it was burning. I wasn’t even sure I could rebuild it or if my complacency was because I knew it would all fall apart.

And then Nazario opened my cell gate and hope rekindled like a phoenix from ashes. It felt awful somehow, like I had something to lose again.

“What are ye thinking?” Cathal asked.

I turned to him, wiping my thoughts clean so nothing would show through my expression. He narrowed his eyes at that like he saw through my efforts.

“I know that look,” he said. “It’s the same look we all get when we’re thinking too much.”

I shrugged. “I just enjoyed what you said. I think the Amanacer is a beautiful name.”

“Right.”

We sat in silence again. The fact that he was lingering made me wonder if Nazario had asked him to do more than just feed me. Perhaps it put the others at ease if someone was close at all times. I didn’t mind. Cathal didn’t seem the cruel type. He seemed like he could be if he had to be, but he wasn’t there to hurt me. I could tell that much. In fact, his presence was oddly comforting.

“This man Nazario is after,” I said. “What did he do?”

He chuckled, but not a trace of amusement was in the sound. “Antonio is a man with very specific tastes. Unfortunately for us, when he came to Luvega, he had many orphans to indulge those tastes. He adopted seven of us boys. We lived in his great big mansion. We ate well. And every night, one of us would be called to his room.”

He stopped for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. I could see him picking at his nails. By the looks of it, he did it often. Each finger was calloused and his nail beds had scabbed over on a few fingers. I had thought it was from hard work before. Now, I was questioning if that was all it was.

“By the time it had happened to all of us,” he continued. “No one was talkin’ about it. It was the first time we’d all eaten full meals and had clean clothes. But two of the older boys were not so easily swayed by those comforts. Rostya and Leonardo were the first to stand up to Antonio when he brought in the youngest of us. Oliver. A mere six years old,” he said, wincing bitterly at his words. “Antonio punished them, he did. And then he locked them away.” He glanced up at Nazario at the helm. “And him being Leonardo’s younger brother, he started to make an example of him just to hurt Leo. Cap’n became his favorite. He had him come to his room every time he got back from a long day out. Smelled like sweat and wine, he did. Never washed first.”

My stomach turned at the thought. I stared up at Nazario, unable to envision him as a small boy under the abusive hand of a sick man. As a grown man, he was big. Strong. He held himself proudly, lit up by the fiery hues of sunset sailing a giant ship with more confidence than any man I’d seen at any helm.

“Aye, I see it,” Cathal said, the corner of his mouth curling up. “You’ve taken a liking to him, haven’t ye?”

I turned my eyes downward, taking another bite of bread, but I could feel a strange heat light up my cheeks. Rather than push the subject, Cathal just chuckled again.

“I don’t blame ye. Ladies turn his way at every port. He looks like his brother, he does. If tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome is your type, I suppose he’s alright, but maybe it’s best ye don’t dream of getting in bed with him. Let’s just say that we usually have to pay double to the whores he visits. He’s not known for his gentle hand.”

I coughed, suddenly forgetting how to swallow, and Cathal gave me a rather rough pat on my back and laughed again. I wasn’t used to men touching me so casually. If they put their hands on me, it was usually with nefarious intent. I stiffened at the contact.

Unsure what to say, I closed my eyes, upset with myself for being poor company because Cathal was doing everything he could to be friendly.

“Yer not unfamiliar with cruel attentions,” he said with a hollow grin. “You’re more like us than I thought. Welcome to the Amanacer.”

I cleared my throat, regaining my composure. “If I am allowed to ask, what happened to Leo and Rostya?”

He let out a ragged sigh. “They escaped. We all thought they abandoned us. Antonio sent people after them, claiming they’d robbed him. Then, two days later, Leo came back, killed two of the house staff, and led us to the docks where he and Rostya had gotten us passage on a ship owned by a man named Denham Wahl. He was lookin’ for deck hands, ye see. But,” he sighed. “Antonio chased us down. We was on the boat goin’ to the ship and he fired on us. We all got down low, but Leo kept rowing. Wasn’t till we got to the ship that anyone noticed he’d been hit. He died on this deck.”

I looked around, realizing we were on the very ship he was talking about and a shallow fissure opened in my heart.

“It was this ship?”

He nodded. “It was called the Maidstone before. He was an old man, the last cap’n. Indulged in a lot of drink. Died six years ago in his favorite brothel, under his favorite whore,” he laughed. “And when Nazario took over, half the old crew left and the other half stayed. And we got more men. We do what we want. We sail and we steal and we take what we like and that is how it’s been. But eight months ago, we raided a ship flying Antonio’s flag and the four of us decided we were not going to let the man wander free anymore. He’s been haunting us for too long. Only thing is, we never got another clue as to where he was until you and that damned ship.”

I felt angry for the men. For Nazario and the brother he’d lost. For Oliver, even, now that I knew how long they’d all been together.

“What happened to Rostya?” I asked.

“Hm?”

“Rostya. The other boy.”

“Oh,” he sighed, pushing his hair back from his face. “Hung himself in a port not long after we left Luvega. He and Leo, see, they were much more than friends. He didn’t see much value in living after we lost him.”

A heavy feeling swelled in my chest at the thought. I’d never loved anyone that way. Just imagining the pain made me want to weep. I shook off the unpleasant feeling and ate the rest of my bread, trying not to let myself get consumed by the weighty emotions. Emotions that weren’t even mine.

“And the others? The other boys, I mean.”

“That would be Nazario, Aleksi, myself, and Nikolas. But don’t bother trying to talk to Nik. Some sick fuck had his tongue cut out before even Antonio got his hands on him. You two have that in common, though his tongue never grew back. He was only with us for a few weeks before we got out. Came from a fucked family in the first place, he did. But no one in Luvega is living in paradise.” He paused for a moment, staring at the darkening horizon, and then looked at me like he was examining text written in a foreign language. “The island ye came from. Were they like that? Did they… ye know… do things with ye?”

I shook my head. “Not like that. They thought I was unclean. Made me memorize texts and prayers so I could recite them every day and repent for what I am. Although, I have never truly known what I am or what it was I was asking forgiveness for. Sometimes, if a man would admit to impure thoughts about me, they would punish me and the others would watch. All for my own good.”

He frowned. “They punished ye if a man had impure thoughts?”

I nodded, the concept so familiar to me that his confusion was puzzling. I realized, however, that the island was far removed from the rest of the world. The cruelties were different.

“They said I was seducing them,” I explained. “I suppose it might be in my nature, but I’m incapable of keeping it at bay if it is.” I swept some breadcrumbs off my lap and turned to Cathal, whose brows were so furrowed, I feared it might leave permanent lines on his forehead. “Were you asked to watch over me?” I asked bluntly.

He shook the confusion from his face and cleared his throat. “Aye, I was. Don’t let it upset ye, though. We’re all a little rattled to have ye aboard in the first—”

“I’m not upset. Astonished, I suppose, that I am not behind bars. I didn’t mean to kill that man, you know. Rourk, I believe his name was. I don’t particularly like killing and I know he was a part of your crew. When he—”

“Ye don’t have to explain yourself. We were all there,” he smirked. “We saw him draw his pistol.” He paused for a moment, brushing his hair back again. “Saw you step in front of me and the Cap’n, too. What did ye think you were gonna do, little thing like ye?” he laughed.

His smile was contagious, but I kept my own at bay, unsure if amusement was the appropriate response.

“I wasn’t really thinking,” I finally said. “It’s just that you and the captain have been kind to me. Those men had not.”

I pulled my legs through the railing and hugged my knees to my chest, nervous that someone would put the blame for the three dead men on me. Even if no one was speaking up, I knew some of the other crewmen had been thinking about the incident.

The light was fading quickly now and the chill in the air was getting more prominent. After a stretch of silence, I found myself looking up at the helm again and found Nikolas taking Nazario’s place on the wheel. Nazario trudged down the steps like he had iron blocks tied to his feet, lazily pulling off his coat before he glanced up at me for a brief moment and politely inclined his head. But instead of walking our way, he retreated into the captain’s quarters and shut the door behind him. When Cathal heard it, he took a glance over his shoulder.

“Early night for him,” he said.

“Will Nikolas be alright?”

He laughed at my question. “That man would stand at that wheel for a week if he could.” Slapping his knees, he stood off the stool and stretched his arms back with a groan. “Time I got some rest, too. Tensions will be high as we close in on Dornwich. Hammocks below deck are full, by the way. And I doubt you’d want to sleep with us snoring men anyways.” He pointed over his shoulder at Nazario’s door, walking backwards as he talked. “So, if you want to sleep, it’s either in there with the cap’n or on the deck. Or, if yer feelin’ attached to the hold, you can go back to your cell. Either way, don’t eat anyone, yeah?”

The smirk on his face was suggestive, but I didn’t quite know how to respond. I wasn’t used to the casual manner in which he spoke to me nor was I accustomed to choosing where I slept. I watched him spin around and drag his tired feet below deck and then remained there, alone, listening to the howling breeze and the steady sounds of waves hitting the hull for hours. I wanted to spend a little more time in it, taking in every detail and smell. Craning my head back, I saw endless black littered with diamonds above me. I felt as if it was the first time I could look at the stars and enjoy them.

But soon, the inevitable sense of fatigue got its hands on me, too. I thought about curling up on the deck under the night sky. It was a little cold, but I was accustomed to the cold. And then I glimpsed Nazario’s doors and imagined his bed. The soft sheets.

The way he held me when the ship was cruelly jostling us about.

The warmth of his touch.

All things I longed for, even if I wasn’t supposed to.

I got to my feet, slowly walking toward his doors, and listened, wondering if he was lying awake inside or if he was asleep. Either way, I did want to see him. I reached down, pulling on the handle, and was delighted to find it unlocked.

Inside, the room was filled with Nazario’s very distinguishable scent. The scent of black tea, rum, and the crisp smell of air from the open ocean. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and found him sprawled on the floor next to the bed atop layers of blankets, one of which was draped haphazardly over his lower half. He had one hand tucked behind his head and his other on his stomach, relaxed over a thin, red-leather book. I could tell by the way his chest was moving that he was in a deep sleep, but there was something about his heartbeat that felt uneasy. Tense.

I closed the door behind me and moved further into the room, my steps light. When I reached his makeshift bed on the floor, I knelt on the edge of the blankets, leaning over him. He was strikingly handsome. I was certain what Cathal said about women flocking to him was not a lie, though I couldn’t quite understand his meaning when he said he had to pay whores double.

Past his beauty was a sea caught in a constant cyclone. I could feel it like the way air was charged after a lightening strike. His dreams were unsettled again.

I slowly laid down beside him, turning on my side. I didn’t want him to wake up. Everyone needed their sleep, but there was a part of me that did not like knowing the things he might be battling in his dream world. Like the night he slept outside my cell, there were horrors he could not escape when he closed his eyes.

I understood what that felt like and for some reason, I hated that Nazario, of all people, had grown so accustomed to the same struggle.

Impulsively, I reached out, lightly running my fingers over his tense brow. As I did, his forehead relaxed and I got some pleasure from that.

But then he stirred. Slowly, he turned his head to face me and I should have pulled away then, but I couldn’t. I was enamored by his face. I studied it in the dark, my fingers tracing the bridge of his nose and the curve of his lips. And where my fingers didn’t touch, I studied him with my eyes from his high cheekbones to his long lashes and the perfect way his facial hair accentuated his jaw. It was then that I saw his eyelids twitch and I paused. His drowsy gaze was fixed on mine, slowly taking in the sight of me next to him. He said nothing, which made me wonder if what I was doing was alright or if I’d crossed a boundary.

But no boundaries had been set.

Then, without a word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.