Page 18 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

“You’re Seaborn.” His voice dropped low, the kind of quiet that was worse than shouting. “You should be able to pull pearls from empty water. Why aren’t you producing?”

“I don’t know what Seaborn means.” I imagined drawing my dagger, the one he didn’t know I had, and finding the soft place beneath his jaw the way I had always found the hinge of a shell. Quick. Certain. No wasted motion. “No one has told us what it means.”

The captain looked at me for a long moment. Rage moved behind his eyes. Frustration? Calculation? Murder? He stepped forward and hit my face hard enough that my vision went white at the edges. Jina cried out. I caught the table from tipping over, teeth clenched and straightened.

I will not go down.

My jaw throbbed, heat radiating up through my cheekbone. My vision swam again then steadied. My hand moved to my dagger but I caught myself. Not yet. Not here. Not with Jina beside me and no way out.

I swallowed my pride, my dignity, and said nothing. Because that was what he expected from me. I would give him just enough to appear compliant. But if he tested me, if he attempted to hurt Jina, he would find out I was not afraid of dying.

“Seaborn.” He said it like that word disgusted him, like a lesson I should have already learned. “Figure it out.” He turned to Ranis. “Take them below. No dinner.” He pointed at me. “Before we reach land tomorrow, you will give me the count I want, or I’ll throw you overboard.”

Ranis shook his head, at us or at his captain, I didn’t know.

He guided us to a small room and apologized before turning the key to lock. Not even a candle. Just darkness and the pungent bite of urine. Perhaps no light was a good thing. Some things were better left unseen.

Jina found my hand in the dark. We leaned against the wall, slid down together, and tucked our knees to our chests. She pressed her head against my shoulder and sobbed softly.

She dabbed at her eyes. “Are you all right, Sis?”

My jaw throbbed, but I was alive. “I’m fine.” My voice came out flatter than I had intended.

She squeezed my hand. She didn’t believe me, neither did I.

I pulled her close and closed my eyes while the ship swayed. Seaborn. Resse had used it to raise our price. The man above us expected it to mean something more than the ability to open shells. You should be able to pull pearls from empty water. An exaggeration, surely. Nobody could create miracles. Could they?

I thought of the first contact with the ocean when we were tossed off the cliff again. The fire along my neck. The air that had filled my lungs where there was no air. What did it all mean? Did that mean I was a Seaborn?

Too tired to think, I pressed my back against the cold wall and waited for morning.

Chapter Seven

The lock turned. Ranis stood in the doorway, face unreadable, a thin line of light from the passage catching his green eyes and lighting them like gemstones on the Jeju queen’s crown.

“I’m so—” Ranis began.

I cut him off with a sharp look as Jina and I walked out. I didn’t care if he felt guilty for how the captain treated us. What could he have done anyway? He’d have been punished just the same.

Ranis directed us back to the workroom. Of course. Where else would we go? What else would we do?

On the table, a pile of oysters and two bowls of porridge sat waiting. Cold likely. Jina sniffed at it, grimaced. Neither of us touched it. The cup of water coated with white deemed unsafe to drink.

Ranis crossed his arms and leaned against the wall in the same spot he’d occupied the day before. “You should eat, or drink at least to keep hydrated.”

“When did you start caring about our well-being,” I snapped.

I got to work in silence and shut down all conversation with Ranis. My stomach grumbled from hunger, but I dismissed it and pushed through. I’d gone days without eating when Agusto punished me for speaking out of line. So this was nothing in comparison.

Time passed. The door opened without warning.

Captain Russo filled the frame, two of his men behind him, each carrying an empty bucket. When his eyes went straight to the pearl pile, he crossed the room in three strides, snarling.

“This.” He picked up a single pearl between two fingers. “This is what you produced?”

“The shells are sick,” I said, the boldness in my tone steady. “I’ve told you—”

He swept the pearl pile off the table, scattering across the floor like rain. Jina flinched beside me.