Chapter 5
It’s dusk when I wake.
I check the lamp on my bedside table. After a little shake, I confirm that it’s empty of oil, but I don’t need a lot of light to navigate my space.
Smaller than most single-person fishing vessels, the cylindrical room consists of an open shower next to the latrine, a small sink, and my bed, all within touching distance of one another. Sometimes I forget how unseemly it is, but after being summoned to the home of the captain, it’s hard not to be reminded of how little I have.
I somehow manage to trudge my way to the corner of my room and under the spigot of my shower, the water blessedly warm from the sun’s heat. I take my time scrubbing the layers of sweat and dirt that have accumulated for weeks and weeks. I drain the rain reservoir on my roof to wash my hair—twice.
My bed had looked too inviting to bother with bathing when I first got in, so I just stripped down to my undergarments and fell face first into my pillow. I’m glad I have four coppers to my name because I’ll add my bedding to the pile of clothes I need to take to the laundress.
The sky is dark by the time I’m done and dry. A caw of laughter comes from beyond the curtains of my window, and I hurry to push them open.
I’m surprised by the bird’s quick appearance. “Hey,” I say, voice soft.
He answers with another squawk, head tilted in invitation for me to give him a scratch.
I oblige. “There’s no way you missed me in that short amount of time,”
I joke.
He scoots closer so he can get his favorite spot. His feathers are black as night, but when they catch the sun just so, they shine with the most gorgeous pearlescent rainbow of colors, blue being the most prominent.
“Oh great, you’re back.” Leaning out of my window I spot Grenadine’s gray halo of curls as she looks up at me from the room below. “I’m going to have to listen to that bird squawking at all hours of the day again.”
As if offended, the bird opens his mouth and caws, the sound similar to a menacing laugh as his gullet bounces up and down.
Grenadine doesn’t find it amusing, the wrinkles of her face compressed tight in indignation. “Your pet is a nuisance.”
The word pet is exaggerated on purpose, considering the punishment for keeping a pet is rationed food for a month. Food is meant for people, not unsanctioned animals.
I retrieve a copper coin and toss it to her. “For your troubles.”
Like the bandit she is, Grenadine snatches the coin out of the air and snaps her curtains closed with a scowling smile.
Music begins to play from deep within the grove. The lights of the lamps hanging in windows and along the walking paths reflect off the ocean’s surface, creating fiery dots atop the rippling black glass below.
Voices carry with the wind as people start heading down to the celebration.
I grab my pack and climb out the window, onto my roof. I have a view of the grove in almost its entirety, my shiel being the highest point in the city. I’ve always found beauty in the city’s complexity, felt pride in our people for surviving in such brutal conditions. But for some reason I can’t pinpoint, it feels less impressive looking at it now.
Pecking pulls my attention from my melancholy thoughts, and I find the bird attempting to break into my pack.
“You are incredibly needy,” I tell him, pulling the dried fish he must smell from the bag. “You can have it. I’ll be happy if I never eat another fish in my life.”
This leads me down an even more unpleasant chain of thoughts, because if we are banned from the Market for two years, there will very likely be lots and lots of fish in my future.
Retrieving my sketchbook, I flip through my drawings. There’s a memory that’s been nagging me since we left the Market. I’ve been fighting the constant desire to sketch it, too afraid while being in such close quarters.
I wanted to be able to take my time with it, to lose myself in it entirely.
I drew the details a little at a time instead, hiding them in my other drawings so I wouldn’t forget them. In between the dresses of the Kenta women, lackluster in black and grays across the paper, between the contours of vendor booths and flags, in the margins, sit the eyes and neck and hands of one man. Even as fresh as my recollection was when I drew them, they don’t do his true memory justice. Even so, I have to get it out, regardless of how disappointing I know the end product will be.
I flip to a clean page and close my eyes, allowing myself to relive the scene in my head. It’s the briefest of images in the middle of the chaos of action, a flash of a moment when I looked over my shoulder and my eyes met his as I ran toward Messer … when the dark-eyed soldier’s gaze implored me to stop.
I open my eyes and place the charcoal of my pencil against the fresh page … and I begin to draw the soldier on his knees. The bird shuffles closer, finding a spot to roost on my bent knee before falling asleep like he does most times he visits me.
Eyes are the hardest. I can get all the other features in perfect proportion —nose, cheeks, chin—but if the eyes fall flat, it’s all a waste, so that’s where I start. Dark and devious, they look up from underneath the heavy slant of his brows. Anguished and helpless. Angry. Broody. Dangerous.
My first rendering doesn’t come out too bad, and I expand onto the bridge of his nose and lose all track of time. It’s not until the bird takes flight that I snap out of it.
Kai’s head emerges over the lip of my roof.
“I was wondering if he was hanging around,” he says, pulling himself up. I close the notebook in my lap. “How are you here?” I ask.
“Everyone is at the celebration, so I was able to sneak off.” He sits with his forearms braced on his knees next to me, gaze weary as he takes in my
appearance. “Did you get some rest?”
I fight a yawn. “What time is it?”
“A little before midnight.”
I look him over: dressed in clean linens with his sword displayed on his belt, hair that appears to have been combed into some semblance of order at one point but is currently hanging messily over his brow.
“How’d it go?”
He shrugs. “I spent the better part of the night looking over my shoulder, waiting for my best friend to arrive.”
“Kai—”
“It’s okay,” he says with a half-smile. “I was just worried about you. I would have come to check on you sooner, but my father called me in for a
meeting.”
“Another? More news from Kenta?”
He shakes his head. “They’ve gotten nowhere with questioning Aurora since this morning, and instead of potentially compromising the information by pushing her too hard, they think she’ll lead us right to the uprising if we
let her back out among the population.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised.
“You think it’s a bad idea?”
“You don’t?”
He runs a hand through his hair, the culprit responsible for its disarray.
“I think it’s risky, but can yield high rewards if we’re careful.”
“She’s a loose cannon.”
“She’s probably the only reason you’re not in Kenta’s hands as we speak.”
He’s right. It could have been Kai, or Messer, or any one of our people, but I think of the vendors with kind eyes and passing smiles and can’t shake the guilt. Gathering the courage with a deep breath, I open my mouth to speak, but Kai’s already shaking his head.
“No,” he says, the same as he did to his father.
I push anyway. “It makes the most sense to turn us in.”
He looks back out at the water, jaw set in unyielding determination. “If we give in this time, we’ll have to give in every time. We’ll be in the same
position next year with someone else.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m not willing to gamble with your life to find out.”
“My life is insignificant compared to the Alaha as a whole. I’m just an urchin.”
A flicker of rage ignites behind his eyes, his body twisting toward mine.
“Stop saying that.”
Kai’s anger is rare. He’s always composed and articulate and patient.
His intense emotion makes me want to leave the conversation where it is, hating confrontation, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t plead my case.
I need to know I tried.
“Children, Kai. Children are going to go hungry if we don’t do
something.”
“My father will find a way.”
“And what if there is no other way?” I say, exasperated. “In a few months’ time, if there haven’t been any successful talks with the Kenta, then
will you consider it?”
“It won’t come to that.”
“But—”
“Is the thought of marrying me so abhorrent you’d rather turn yourself over to them instead?”
It comes out like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of me and him both.
The dejection and hurt are plain in his eyes.
I slide my hand over the fist he has on his knee, my fingertips an unspoken invitation, gliding over his knuckles, and he opens his hand,
allowing my fingers to weave into his.
“Marrying you wasn’t part of the plan.”
The anger and hurt from moments before are replaced with hope as he moves closer. “The plan doesn’t change.”
There’s a hitch in my breath as I attempt to rein in the excitement beginning to course through my veins. “What about my place in the guard and finding a way onto land?”
I always hoped I’d be one of the few selected to make the annual trip to the Market. A fool’s dream, but I wanted it nonetheless.
“Everything will be the same as before, except…” He lets out a breath, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll be together.”
A seed of happiness takes root in my chest as the magnitude of what he’s saying begins to sink in. “But Kenta…”
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, leaving no room for argument. I nod.
He rakes his eyes over my face as if allowing himself to finally take in his fill. I do the same, marveling at the man before me—my best friend.
Handsome and kind. My future husband.
I suppose I can get used to that label.
My gaze falls to his mouth, and he follows, his eyes landing on my lips in turn. I don’t dare move, but I need him to do something, anything, to put me out of my misery. He brings his other hand to my cheek, angling my face toward his.
We’ve snuck kisses for years. Never consistently nor spoken of afterward, but often enough that I’d always anticipate another while unsure if it would ever happen again. He’d catch me off guard, here on my roof or while swimming or hiding behind a corner. Some slow and languid, others a quick meeting of lips.
But this is different from all the ones before. There’s purpose and intent in his eyes. His lips meet mine in a gentle touch before he pulls back.
“Breathe,” he says, a wry smile on his lips.
So I do, sucking in a lungful of air. Once, twice. Again. He’s witnessed my blush enough that I’m not self-conscious about it with him. “Try again?”
He doesn’t wait this time, smiling when his lips touch mine, firm and searching as our breaths converge. A spark of desire cuts through all my trepidation, and I open my mouth up to his, giving him permission.
A noise escapes my throat of its own volition and Kai slides an arm around my waist, pulling me further into his body, his breath as heavy as mine. If I’d had even an inkling of an idea of how good it would feel to imagine a future with him, there would have never been any answer but yes when he asked me to marry him.
I know now, and it’s like an echo in my head as we kiss.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
