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She put her hand to her chest. “Odeya said it’s normal to feel many things at once, but it doesn’t feel normal. It feels overwhelming.”
“You’re feeling things because you helped others. It’s good.”
“I did what anyone would do.”
Jarin scoffed. “That’s not true. Most people ignore the suffering of others.”
“But how? How do you bear it?”
His face became serious, and his eyes remote. “Not well, much of the time, to be honest. It’s why the world is the way it is. So many of us can’t bear the pain of being human.”
“How awful.”
He cuffed her on the shoulder, then directed her toward the bustling cobblestone street. “It’s not all bad. The good moments make all the pain worth it. Or, so I’ve heard.”
Riella fell into step beside him while thinking of Seraphine, Tregor, the boy cringing from her on the street, and the women enslaved by Madame Quaan. “I don’t know if I can imagine anything feeling good enough to offset the pain.”
“Maybe one day you’ll find out.”
She sighed. “I’ll be happy if I can get to the Black Cliffs. You said you’d take me there.”
“And you said you’d kill Artus. I’m leading a mutiny tonight, and you can kill him then. But only if we make it back to the Pandora before dusk. Once the ship is mine, I’ll take you to the cliffs.”
She raised her brows at him. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“A mutiny does sound like fun.”
“I’m not doing it for fun. I’m doing it because Artus flogs and kills his own men, and I have to stop him before his strength grows. Even if I’m outnumbered.”
The streets became more crowded the farther downhill they walked, toward the docks. Seagulls floated overhead and the taverns steadily filled, rowdy with rosy-faced sailors and local folk. The scent of smoky cooked food reached Riella’s nostrils. She had never consumed human dishes, and yet her stomach growled. She’d not eaten since the day before.
“Well, I deeply enjoy fighting pirates, so it’d be no burden for me,” said Riella.
Jarin glanced sideways at her. Everyone on the street automatically gave him a wide berth, parting like tidal water as he approached. “You would fight alongside me?”
“If it means you’ll take me to the cliffs, then yes. I’d far prefer to travel by sea to land. I feel very much like I don’t belong here.”
“I know what you mean,” he said half to himself, staring around at the people laughing and chatting.
“Being a pirate is not the same as being a siren.”
“And yet, the people in this city would sooner welcome you into their company than me. You know nothing about me, except that I’m a pirate.”
“What else is there?”
He cleared his throat. “I come from questionable stock, let’s put it that way.”
“Your father was a mountain troll?” She raked her eyes over his body. “That would explain your gigantic, lumbering structure.”
She’d been joking, but Jarin’s expression darkened and he refused to meet her gaze. “My father wasn’t a troll. He was a great warrior.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What of your mother?”
“Tell me what’s at the Black Cliffs, really?”
Riella noted that he yet again had changed the subject, but she answered anyway. If she was more open with him, perhaps he would respond in kind.
