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“People sometimes say my songs are creepy and shouldn’t be heard by mortals, witches, or anyone with a soul. I sing down here where it is quiet nearly all the time, and no one comes and bothers me. You can join me if you’d like?” He grins and I notice his teeth are all sharpened into razor points. “My name is Mellyn Freighns. What’s yours?”

I climb up into the crate and sigh. “Miriam Vale. Most people call me Miry and I’m awful at singing. In fact, I was told several times to really not try it again unless I want to hurt people’s ears.” He giggles and I smile softly at him. I know exactly why he makes me feel safer, why I don’t feel threatened, and it’s because of Rowe. Not Mellyn. I’ll take what I can get, what makes my heart actually pause from screaming in my ear. “I didn’t realize there were any kids on the ship.”

“I’m the only one. Clark’s my older brother. I’m guessing he helped you with that.” He nods at my hands. “I wasn’t born on the ship, but Clark came and rescued me three years ago. Well, the captain did. Clark didn’t exactly fight to rescue me from the fighting rings, but I know he means well. He’s a good brother to me.”

I go still. Fighting rings? I don’t know exactly what that is, but I suspect I know. Child slavery isn’t spoken about on Azurestone much, but people whisper, and on the bigger islands to the north, slaves are common.

“Why do they not like your singing?” I change the subject for now.

He strums his fingers across the guitar, the musical sound reverberating around the wooden room. “They say sometimes what I sing comes true, but I don’t have any magic, and I reckon they are all just big babies scared of nothing.”

“Well, they have magic. I’ve never seen magic before until today, and I’m still in shock that it’s real. It’s said the king has magic, but no one sees him anymore…” Well, not since the queen died two years ago. Her funeral was an enormous affair. The entire city was covered in mourning lanterns of the brightest red for the gods, who mark the path to peace with a red road of light for the dead. The king walked with the body of the queen down the center of the city, right down to the docks before her body was sent to sea on a boat set aflame.

I saw him then, blond-haired and middle-aged, as normal looking as most men, yet he rules us all. He is the king, and he was the last person with the map five hundred years ago. He did what I did and begged the gods for his wish. What did he wish for? It’s a mystery that my father always wondered about and passed that wondering question on to me.

“Clark said that my bloodline is diluted with mortal blood; therefore, I’m unlikely to have magic. I’ll sing you a song I thought about when the rock fell from the sky. I watched it from the ship.” Mellyn doesn’t pause to ask me if I want to hear him sing, and the second he strums the guitar and the words leave his throat, I know there is magic in his voice.

“There once was a dancer who loved the rain, she spun in the droplets and prayed to the saints. Oh, how they watched her, just like her love, and they prayed, prayed, prayed,” he sings, the pitch of his voice going up and up at the end. He continues, “When the time came for her wedding to her love, the gods came as doves. They made it rain, they gave her pain, and oh a blessed baby was born on a raining day. Oh a blessed baby, oh a baby, oh a baby, and oh how she danced to her death when it rained.”

I don’t know what to say to him when the song stops, but I stare. I stare long enough that he drops his head. “I scared you. I’m sorry.”

“No…but my mother said she was born in the rain just like me, and a row of doves lined up to watch her wedding to my father,” I whisper. He wasn’t wrong about any of it, well maybe about the gods, but blessed? That is a wish, not a truth. “Don’t be sorry.”

“But I want you to come back and listen. I know you should listen, just like I tell the captain. He listens too,” he whispers, but I hear him. I nod once because I can’t make any words leave my mouth and my body feels heavy as I lean back. Mellyn plays on the guitar, a tune I’ve never heard before, and before long my eyes drop shut for sleep to claim me. I try to linger in my dreams of Rowe, of freedom and safety, but they give up on me too, and it feels like seconds pass before I open my eyes to Draven’s room. Bastard.

I’m warm, surrounded by bed sheets and fluffy pillows that smell like him. Brine and salt mixed in with the heavy scent of sandalwood and everything Draven. I hate that he smells good, really good, and if it were anyone else, I’d be half tempted to get as close as possible. But it’s not. It’s this arrogant bastard, who is holding me prisoner and using me.

I’m surprised I slept well in here at all. This bed is too much. Too comfy. It doesn’t have scratchy sheets like at home, or pillows stuffed with straw that sometimes poke through the thin cotton to stab me. This bed is like lying on clouds, and I’ve never even sat on a bed this nice. The beds in Wyatt’s house were nice, but other than changing the sheets, I would never dare to lie on them. Even that one night with Wyatt was on the living room floor.

I don’t like it. I throw the sheets off, head spinning as I sit up, my stomach growling loudly in challenge. “You can shut up,” I mutter to it, cringing when I see the map markings are still here and I’m in the same clothes I passed out in. Did I imagine the singing boy who knew my mother’s story? I pat myself over, checking that I’m fine. My ribs don’t hurt anymore, and my hands, I lift them to see the burns are gone. Completely gone. Other than starving, I’m fine.

The room is bright, light pouring in from the sun rising, and it highlights the piles of books as I climb out of the bed and tiptoe over to the window, resting my forehead against the cool glass. There’s no ice on the water anymore, and it’s a clear day, barely any clouds in the sky as the sun crawls its way up from the darkness, casting brilliant shades of pink everywhere. Pink sunrises were always my favorite. Rowe always liked orange ones. I wonder if he is looking at the sky and thinking of me, too. We have never been apart this long, and it kills me that I can’t know he is okay, that I can’t see him and hold him tight.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Freckles makes me jump. I never even heard her open the door.

I turn around to see her sliding the door shut behind her. “How did you sneak in here like that?”

She frowns, rubbing her arm. She is wearing similar clothes as before, but her blue top is styled with a knot under the left side of her ribcage, and a flower is embroidered on her trousers, climbing up her left leg with lovely detail. Clothes like these would have sold for a lot of gold back in Azurestone. “I wasn’t sneaking. I’m sorry if I scared you.” She clears her throat as my shoulders drop. “You look well, thank goodness. We all take turns checking on you, well, Draven did more. You’ve been asleep for two days straight. Everyone was really worried.”

“Everyone? Even Draven?” I snort. “I’m sure he prayed for me to stay sleeping.”

Freckles looks uncomfortable. “I don’t think—” My stomach growls, and she stops. “You must be hungry. It’s brilliant timing. Breakfast is on the table. Come, I’ll take you.” I don’t move, and she turns back. “Are you okay? I should have asked that first. You’re safe, you know that? I’m asking because you ran, and it’s completely understandable to be overwhelmed and just want to be alone. I know I didn’t tell you about this being Ren’s room, but he just wants to keep close to make sure you’re safe. Ren has claimed you as one of his crew, and that gives you protection. He trusts everyone on the ship, mostly, but we have a few people that he hires from random islands that just keep the ship running. They aren’t part of the crew but just help from here to there. They get off at the big islands, and he hires new people for the grunt work. The reason he wants you in here and watched by us is because he is concerned that one of them might have heard about the map and be very interested in killing you to take it or kidnapping you or something equally awful. When we get to Havenward, he’s chucking them all off and vetting the workers he chooses to come with us. There will be far fewer on board either way, and then it’s safer for you.” I don’t get a moment to process what she just explained before she pushes the doors open. “I think you’ll feel a bit better with food in your stomach, and breakfast is the perfect place for that.”

Food? I’m going to owe Draven too much at this rate. First, I owe him for Clark, now food too? I’d say no, but I know that I need to eat before I do actually end up passing out. I’ve passed out from hunger enough times to sense when it’s going to happen. Usually I can go about three days with nothing other than scraps. “Will Clark be at breakfast? I need to thank him for healing me.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t like the attention. You can probably thank him by not thanking him,” she suggests, and I get that. I never like attention either. Mostly because when you’re a thief, attention is the last thing you need.

I walk to her side and we leave the room together, where I’m immediately hit with the mouthwatering smell of cooking. All the tables in the main area have been pushed together to make one long table with some bench seats and some regular chairs on either side. I feel eyes on me before I even lift my gaze and meet Draven’s, and he smirks. He’s sitting at the end of the table, a steel cup in his hands, his ring finger tapping against it. He’s leaning back slightly in his chair, plate of half-eaten food on the table. Of course he would leave food half-eaten on his plate. He looks like he has never missed a day’s food in his life.

My eyes drift to the middle of the table, which is filled with enough food to feed a hundred families. Not just the fifty or so people seated. Plates piled high with fruits that I’ve never seen, warm pastries, meats and cheeses. My stomach clenches painfully as I take it all in. I barely feel Freckles touching my arm, nodding to the side of the table near Draven. I’m not sitting with him.

Draven sits up, and the chatter that filled the table fades away. All eyes bounce between the captain and me. He nods to the empty seat next to him. “You’re here.”

I look down at the empty seats on the other side of the table from him and leave Freckles to walk right to them. I’d rather sit with strangers as long as it is far away from him. I pull the seat out, the scraping noise echoing loudly, and the second I try to sit down, an inky black shadow rips the seat away from me, and I stumble onto my ass. A few people chuckle as I grit my teeth and turn to glare at the asshole who just did that. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His reply is a low grumble. “That’s not your seat.”

“Like Noctaris it isn’t,” I snarl.