THE ISLAND GIRL

Years Ago

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“She’s Cassen’s property.”

Annora pressed her ear to the dank wood of the door, desperate to hear more of the conversation that would determine her fate.

“So she is,” came the voice of the viler man. “And even more reason for us to have a taste. I’d give her a lesson in obedience that cockless daint is unable to teach.”

As best Annora could tell, they’d been sailing for no more than three days, yet the green crystal seas and white powder beaches of her people’s islands seemed forever distant. These foreign men spoke with a coarse accent tinged with menace. And when they had stared at her prior to cramming her into this closet that now served as her cabin, she felt their eyes defiling her.

How have you been so foolish to arrive here? she demanded of herself. Annora had always wished to leave her home, to be free from her father’s rage and her mother’s ambivalence. Now, however, she found herself longing to be sheltered by them—not the parents she had always known them to be, but the generous, pleasant people they had transformed into months earlier. It was a front, she knew, yet she’d allowed herself to enjoy those weeks leading up to the event, her father showering her with gifts and her mother smiling with pride. What did you expect would happen when you disgraced them so horribly? That your life would return to normal?

Not allowing her ear to part from the door, Annora felt around in the darkness for anything sharp. It would be little good as a weapon against the countless men aboard this ship, but she could use a piece of glass or rusty nail on herself, dragging it from eye to lip just as she should have done before. It would have precluded her from having to become one of the many wives had by their island king, and with far less shame brought to her family than the method she had chosen in its stead. She feared, though, even a horrific scar may not be enough to prevent these foreigners from the acts their leers promised.

“You think all he teaches them is how to tidy things? It makes no difference, though. If his cargo is touched, Cassen will bar this ship from Eastport. Then the captain will have us both keelhauled—until barnacles have stripped us of flesh.”

Annora almost started as she felt the door bow inward, creaking against the weight of a man. Far closer than she ever wished to be, she could hear his breathing now, but she did not retreat from her place at the door.

“No one has to know,” he said, near a whisper.

The other man made an angry noise. “I’ve heard enough. There are others for you to toy with. Leave this one be, or we’ll both pay the price.”

As the parting man’s footsteps faded, Annora was left alone with the wheezy breather, her door still bearing his weight.

“But those ones have no life left in their eyes.” The man spoke with a sullen honesty that served to worsen Annora’s nausea and worry.

The sharp sound of splintering wood shot through the door, causing the hairs upon her arms to stand. He was only picking stray slivers from the surface of the door, she realized, but each tiny piece removed meant he was that much closer to undressing her. She remained deathly still, knowing that any movement she made now he would feel through the slim barrier.

“What is your name, girl?”

The words came as if he knew she was close. Her first instinct was to ignore him, to pretend she was asleep or unable to hear him. He would soon bore of this game and let her be.

“I know you can—”

“My name is Annora,” she interrupted, startling even herself with the strength of her defiance. “What is your name?”

He chuckled before he answered. “My name is Pyke. You will know it well by the time we cross the sea.”

“I will remember it,” she said, summoning what remained of her courage. “And when we reach Adeltia, I will have Cassen punish you if you touch another person aboard this ship.” She did not know this Cassen, but that the men appeared to fear him seemed her only leverage.

Pyke was silent for a good while before letting loose a guffaw that threatened to break down her door.

“You little tart,” he said. “I will have to save you for last.” She felt his weight shift away from the door, then return. “But I will have you.”

The cries and whimpers that came from the compartment beside her own soon after he left let Annora know just how little he thought of her threat. I should have just pretended to be asleep, she lamented, fearful that the one next to her may be suffering more due to her audaciousness. Her searching in the dark continued, hastened by hatred, feeling no more than wooden planks and damp rope or mops. Then her hand fell upon something so familiar that it felt wrong for it to be here. She rubbed her fingers over its cold surface, feeling each of its many crenulations once and again.

It was no great feat to find one perfect half of a seashell on the coast of her former island, but to find one here gave her a sudden rush of achievement—until she remembered what she had planned to use it for. The top edge of it felt purposefully sharp, as if the previous captive had spent endless hours making it so. It would cut through flesh easily enough, either Pyke’s or her own. It would not cut deep enough to end a man’s life, however, and an image of his face came to her, embroiled with a mix of rage and glee, thankful that she’d given him a reason to hurt her even more. If she was to use this weapon, it could not be on him.

The cries from her neighbor had ended, though they refused to leave her mind. A wound to my face will neither stop this man, she confessed to herself. With the shell clasped tightly in her hands she pressed the serrated edge against her chest, fearing the pain that would come, fearing that such an act may cost her her life, but mostly fearing that she lacked the courage to go through with it.