"We canât leave Thelos without a navigator." Harken says as soon as the others have gone.
I know what heâs hinting at. If I canât hire one, Iâll have to take more drastic measures. Hellcat's history, before she was mine, is riddled with forced labor. The crew knows full well why I added an article to the code forbidding it unless absolutely necessary for survival. And with the winds growing more unpredictable, sailing without one is a death wish.
"Did you figure that out all by yourself?" I say over my shoulder. "Iâll get us a navigator first thing when we arrive in Thelos. By force if I have to." Sharper than necessary.
Harken doesnât reply. He knows I get condescending when Iâm unsettled.
It isnât the navigator problem that's unsettling me. Iâve made worse bets and won. And not by Sarahâs uncanny knack for landing her hits. Hell, I enjoyed that. I press my tongue against the tender underside of my split lip, feeling the throb of it. Had I indulged her any longer, I might have found myself in need of a jeweler. No, itâs not the myriad of pressures a Captain faces, itâs just her and her presence on my ship.
I lean back against the mast, arms crossed, eyes on the horizon. Harken stands beside me, quiet. I glance down at the deck. Sarahâs keeping to the perimeter and somehow still getting in the way. She doesnât belong here and yet I practically dragged her here.
I tell myself it was necessity. That I couldnât just leave her there, not in the shape she was in. But I know thatâs not the whole truth. I should have turned my back, let her become just another passing ghost in my long, bloodied wake. I thought I was over her, that I had burned through every foolish, lingering feeling years ago.
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And yet, when I saw her again in my world, raw and reckless and still so damn stubborn⦠I had to know what sheâd become.
Besides, I canât unsee what I saw. Her body falling, that flash of light in the shape of a winged creature. It was blinding, unlike anything Iâve ever seen. It seared itself into my mind. And I still canât shake the feeling that I witnessed something crucial, something bigger than myself.
I donât pretend to understand all the old stories, the ones whispered in dark corners of portside taverns and sung low over dying fires. Nor do I know much about dragons. But I do know they donât just wake for no reason. They come when the world needs resetting.
Iâve known for some time now that something big is coming. Piracy isnât what it used to beâwe have to be careful, pick our marks wisely, take only what we need. Even then, the tides are shifting. The empire sinks its teeth in deeper. And we send what we can home to families who have no other way to survive. The world is cracking. And in itâs center? Her.
I could be wrong. Maybe sheâs not some destined figure or some force set to change the world. Maybe sheâs just the same girl who dragged me along for years, only grown now and carrying her own ghosts like the rest of us.
But if Iâm right⦠then sheâs more dangerous than anyone could ever imagine. And for the first time in a long while, I donât know if I want to throw myself headfirst into that abyss, or stay far away from it.
âI have to say,â Harken breaks the silence, still watching the horizon. âIâm surprised with this one. She seems a little rough for your taste.â
I stiffen. The comment is casual, a slip back into our usual banter, but it doesnât land. Heâs baiting me, trying to get a reaction and bring me back to something familiar. But for once, Iâm not in the mood.
âSheâs not my taste,â I say flatly.
Harken hums, amused. âNo?â
I donât answer. His smirk lingers a second longer before he shakes his head. âFair enough.â
Sarah looks up, catching my gaze and her expression shifts like she might come to me. I turn away before she can decide. Slip out of sight before she can take a step in my direction.
Not yet, Sarah.