The Sea Siren

Chapter Forty-Nine

Vivian

"Slowly... for fuck's sake, walk slow."

My hand wobbles against the globe of the cane that is aiding me in remaining upright. The day is blistering hot. The first rays of light since coming aboard enter my body.

My crew watch me in silence from afar.

In all the years I've been with them, never has there been a time where I couldn't bring myself to my feet, fight the fevers. The wounds refuse to heal, my own body rejecting recovery.

Perhaps, because they pale in comparison to the aches of the heart.

When I'm lucid, I have a split mind. The mania has begun to pass, day by day but something within me remains torn. Anger and regret plague me in equal measure.

Despite what this man, what his family, have done to me, I feel more regret than I thought I would. I wasn't myself, driven on fear and desperation, while I ran through that palace but the moment I stopped and turned for the King's quarters, I did so purely out of hate.

I thought my heart would settle as I laid my blade into Michel, into the King's frail chest.

But I am more lost than I was before.

More alone.

I have failed myself.

Failed my crew.

Failed the captain who saw a stranded girl driven mad by revenge and took her in.

Even now, as I huff out breaths, wobbling as I stare out over the ocean, finding no one on our tail, I can feel him.

Maybe it's just because I know him. But he'll come.

He's coming.

And this time, there won't be a truce as we called before. There won't be words.

Violence is the only way to settle this.

They have a chance if I leave. Perhaps.

The man I knew on this vessel would spare this crew if I wasn't on board. But clearly, I misjudged his character and can no longer rely on what I believed I knew of that man.

"Viv?"

Grimacing, I shift my weight to take another step, refusing to give up. Not while the crew watches. Sweat has soaked through my clothes in the short walk to the quarterdeck. It rolls down my temples as I hobble where Bastian stands, his hands on the helm.

For weeks now, he has watched me fail to recover with concerned eyes.

He knows there is a deep-seated wound within me not easily removed. For the first time since that island, fight has left me. My weary body and even wearier heart has no strength and he out of all of them can see it.

"You look better today," he says, without sounding convincing.

"I figured the sunrays would drive out the fever," Aggie says stubbornly. "Weeks in one room with the shutters closed would make anyone ill."

Too nauseas to complain, I say what I need to, the only thing important on my mind. "You've set course?"

Bastian's eyes wince, but his anger remains concealed enough. "It will be a long trip to the Borderlands."

"We have enough provisions."

His lips thin. "We do. You are still certain you want this?"

"It's the only way."

"The only way for what?"

"He may spare you all—"

Bastian looks down at me severely. "Have we already lost?"