Chapter Twelve

TWO THINGS HAPPENED WITHIN an hour of leaving.

One, my hands burned with pain, ensuring I would no longer have smooth palms by the end of my flee.

Two, a tiny parrot appeared from the darkness, flying straight to me, perching on my bag strap as if I’d summoned it through psychic will.

I rested my oar on my lap, eyeing the small bird, recognising the sprigs of black feathers and tangerine cheeks.

The parrot that’d watched me the past couple of days. The parrot that looked a lot like Pika but had none of his flamboyant, comical personality.

What was a bird doing up at night?

Surely, it should be roosting somewhere the moment the sun went down. Why had a flighted creature flown over acres of sea in the dark? Even seagulls were smarter than that, and they could rest on water.

“Are you lost, little one?” I asked softly, the sound of my voice strange in the water world where I bobbed. The only noise had come from the splashes of my oar and the gentle slap of sea against the bow.

The parrot blinked, splaying out a wing and preening the sleek under feathers. It fluffed up its body, seeming grateful to have found a perch.

What a strange little thing.

What an annoying little passenger.

I looked over my shoulder to the disappearing distance where Sully’s shores hid. I couldn’t go back and drop it off, who knew if I’d ever have another chance. I looked forward at the vast openness before me, at the faint lights of other islands, calling me, summoning me.

I wanted to obey and keep going, but I couldn’t row with a bird as my stowaway. I couldn’t take it so far from home. How terrible would that be to displace it? What if it was Pika’s mate or another one of Sully’s pets?

So? He displaced you. He stole you. Why do you care about a bird?

My shoulders slouched.

I cared because I’d always had a bleeding heart when it came to animals. And perhaps because of what’d happened to me and the captivity I’d just run from, I was hyperaware of what it would mean to this little parrot if I continued with it.

You can’t stay bobbing out here.

They’ll start searching soon.

I was stuck.

Dammit.

“What am I supposed to do with you, huh?” I took off my hat, not needing it with only starlight painting me in a muted silver glow.

The parrot cocked its head, blinking with curiosity. I stared back, wasting ten minutes trying to decide what to do when I should’ve been rowing. “Go home. Fly away.” I tried wafting it with my hat, encouraging it to leave.

It only spread its wings, hovered out of distance until I stopped antagonising it, then swooped back and wrapped its tiny talons around my bag strap again.

“Ugh.” I clutched my oar, worry skittering down my spine that I had to keep going. I had the favour of darkness for now, but I had to put as many miles between me and Sully’s island before the sun woke up.

My heart broke but common-sense tried to make me rational. The bird had wings. It’d flown here of its own free will. It could leave again—it wouldn’t be stuck if I continued. It had the means to return.

Gritting my teeth, I dug the oar into the waves and continued onward. “I’m sorry, but I have to keep going. Have a rest and then fly back to where you came from, okay?”

The bird chirped quietly, stuck its head under its wing, and went to sleep.

* * * * *

Dawn crested far too soon.

The first island still seemed ages ahead, leaving me vulnerable on the open ocean. As the sky slowly lightened, I dug my oar deeper, wrenching out more power from over depleted muscles.

I had no choice but to keep going. Keep rowing. Keep trying.

My back crawled with fear that I was being followed, but I refused to look behind me; refused to entertain the possibility that I wouldn’t make it.

Sweat rivered under my clothes by the time I entered a rip around the rocky, palm tree crowded land. The sea carried me swiftly toward the splashing, crashing shore. I did my best to navigate around the island without puncturing a hole in the kayak or capsizing, only stopping when I found a tiny inlet with sand and an overhanging of banyan trees.

The parrot took off, flying into the many palms as I jumped out into knee-deep water and hauled the jade green kayak to shore. Doing my best to camouflage it, I tucked it under some trees.

Only once I’d scattered a few broken branches and foliage over the top did I grab my bag and crawl through the dense undergrowth.

It seemed this particular island was uninhabited—or at least, where I’d landed.

A raucous bird song hinted it was populated by animals other than humans. Peering into the treetops, hidden in dense foliage, and damp with sweat, I spotted the tiny parrot who’d kept me company during the night.

It sat eating some sort of berry, stripping the outer layer and indulging in the juiciness within. My own stomach growled, prompting a small breakfast from my rations. A sun-warmed orange and a slightly crushed pastry were followed by a few sips of water.

Packing my picnic away, I didn’t drink what my thirst demanded.

I would restrict myself carefully. Who knew how long this trip would take.

Thirsty, achy, and tired, I made a little nest of leaves and lay down.

At least I didn’t have to worry about hiding from people. I could rest in the shady undergrowth, recover from a night of rowing, and begin again at dusk.

* * * * *

I rowed for another night.

The tiny parrot perched on my bag and watched me dig the oar into the sea, over and over again. I didn’t know why it’d chosen to follow me. I didn’t know if I’d stolen something valuable from Sully unintentionally, but I was glad for its company. I found comfort in its intelligent black gaze as we continued to slice through black sky and even blacker ocean.

Occasionally, I’d shine my torch over the glossy surface, beaming illumination through the gloom, seeing gliding shadows of sea creatures, witnessing luminescent fish as they darted through the light, but most of the time, I rowed in utter darkness.

I could be going in circles.

I could be returning to Sully.

I could be rowing to my demise.

My back ached from twisting and spearing the oar into the water. My hands, even wrapped with one of my blouses, oozed blood and blisters.

I ignored it all.

Freedom was worth the pain.

By the time the sky lightened on the second day, a larger island beckoned up ahead. A smaller landmass heralded safety to my left, hinting Sully hadn’t been lying when he said he owned forty-four islands in his private archipelago.

The islands were scattered everywhere. Some close, some far. All of them potential friend or foe.

Pausing, I studied the left island. The size looked too small to hold habitation. It would be safe to rest without being caught. But the sheer sides offered no mooring for the kayak and I didn’t have the strength to row around the entire thing, searching for a bay, only to find none and have to keep going.

I needed to be off the open water before the sky pinked any brighter.

My eyes locked on the larger island ahead. Still a few kilometres away but doable if I summoned the final dregs of my energy. Striking off with renewed determination, the little parrot squawked and flapped its wings.

Goosebumps ran down my arms as it cocked its head, staring at the pre-dawn sky. It chirped again, this time with a worried question hidden in the avian dialogue.

I followed its stare, studying the world above me instead of the water around me. Fear appeared and spread through my heart, quick and insidious.

The sky wasn’t clear like usual.

Every day since I’d been on Sully’s island, the horizon usually held turquoise blue with the occasional rain cloud. Rain fell at night when the humidity level had filled the clouds to capacity. I’d grown used to the stability of hot days and wet nights.

But today, the sky was not stable.

Black-edged clouds gathered in one giant mass. Wind sprung up as if Zeus flicked a switch, whipping the calm sea into choppy whitecaps. A rumble of deep, disturbing thunder echoed in the distance.

My fear morphed to panic.

The parrot hopped from one bag handle to the other, chirping and twittering in worry.

“Shit.” I plowed the oar into the water, shooting us forward. A tropical storm could rip palm trees from the soil, claw apart villas, and decimate islands. A tropical storm at sea where a girl and a tiny parrot sat in a flimsy kayak? It could kill us.

I rowed as fast as I could.

The heavens opened.

And big fat raindrops fell.