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“Better.” Jarin tore at a piece of bread with his teeth. “He’s resting in his hut. Kohara made a tincture for his wounds and it seems to be helping.”
“And the ship?”
He grimaced. “Lots of work to be done.”
“I’ll help.”
“Really?”
“Of course. So that we might leave the island faster.” She gestured around at the pirates. “And I’m stronger than any of them.”
She said the last part louder than necessary, and was gratified when several men scowled at her.
Jarin shook his head ruefully. “Sure, you can help. But if you end up rolled in a sail again, on your own head be it. Pirates don’t take kindly to insult. Especially from sirens.”
He flashed a quick smile and winked at her, causing her stomach to flutter.
“Come on, break’s over.” He stood, pitching his leaf-plate into the scrub. “Let’s put you to work.”
Jarin led the way down to the beach, Riella trailing him while gazing around.
The plant life was enthralling to the siren, and she stopped every few paces to inspect the ferns and flowers and tiny creatures on leaves. The tapestry of green had a distinctly calming effect on her. It was a similar feeling to swimming through the coral reefs.
Once the fresh ocean breeze reached her, Riella broke into a run, the pristine white sand squeaking underfoot. The crystal blue sea called to her. No matter how beautiful the land was, the ocean was her home. More than her home—it was her. She was part of it. Or at least, she had been.
She stood in the water up to her waist, sighing at the cool relief of the water. The Pandora sat on the beach, supported by wooden beams driven into the sand.
At night, when the tide came in, the water would tug at the vessel, tempting it to ruin in the oceanic depths. She smiled at the thought, despite needing the ship very much. It was heartening that not all of her siren inclinations were gone.
The pirates swarmed over the ship like fish at feeding time, hauling ruined soaked wood from below deck, while others sawed and hammered new, dry wood farther up the sand under palm trees. Jarin waved his arm at her from one of the palms.
With a certain amount of reluctance, not wanting to leave the water, she went to him.
“You’ll work up here with me,” he said, tilting his head toward the Pandora. “So I can keep an eye on you. Don’t want you tearing my crew to shreds.”
“Fine by me.”
Jarin took up a saw and buried the serrated edge into a thick plank of wood, pumping his arm back and forth. The veins on his muscular, tensed arm became even more prominent, and the sweltering mid-summer sun imparted a lustrous golden sheen to his skin. Appalled at herself for noticing, Riella snatched up a saw and began working on another plank, facing away from him.
The scent of the cut wood filled the air, mixing with the salty tang of the ocean. Although she wasn’t afraid of the pirates, she was glad the nearest ones were out of earshot. It was impossible to be at ease when surrounded by your natural enemy.
“Tell me why you can’t die,” she said.
“Jeez. Right into it, huh?”
“Tell me.”
“I’m just lucky, I guess.”
“No. You said your mother made you that way. How?”
He merely grunted, tossing a piece of cut wood on a pile.
“Tell me,” she repeated. “Please?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “She cast a spell on me, alright? Because she thought the palace would come after me on account of her crimes.”
Riella immediately stopped sawing, fascinated. “What crimes?”
