Calem
The ship never really slept. There was always someone moving, someone doing something, to keep the Sea Mare on track. But after a few days of watching from the shadows and keeping tabs on the crew’s routine, I’d found my opportunity for stealing Harlow’s most prized treasure: Queen Jessamine’s Conch. And not a moment too soon, since we were scheduled to pass Kings Isle in a few hours’ time.
Slipping out of my cot, I glanced around the dark cabin and found my boots. Thick curtains hung over the only window, and faint dawn light ghosted around the edges. Ozias snored away on the folding bed next to mine, a giant, unmoving mound curled beneath a thin blanket. Across the room, Leena and Noc slept on a bed meant for one. Or rather, Leena slept. Noc must’ve heard me move, because he’d propped himself up on one arm and was eyeing the exit. Listening to the skeleton crew move about on deck, likely. There was no doubt he could hear them, too, senses heightened by death and all.
Noc whispered just loud enough for me to pick up over the perpetual creak and groan of the ship. “Don’t get caught.”
“Super helpful tip. Thanks for that.” I flashed him a grin. “I’ll be fine. I did this for how many years before you found my sorry ass?”
“It only takes one mistake.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled as I moved toward the door. Leave it to Noc to focus on the one mishap I’d encountered during my days as a thief. Of course, that mishap had resulted in my death and eventual raising, but semantics. I’d been reckless, stolen from the wrong person, and found myself at the end of a blade.
Lesson learned. Shaking my head, I steadied myself with a breath and focused only on the task at hand. The last thing I needed was to lose control. To shift into a monster on a ship full of innocent people. That would’ve been just peachy.
Slipping out of our cabin, I paused on the other side and trailed my fingers along the gilded frame of a massive portrait obscuring the hidden door. I let it shut behind me, the quiet click an inevitable sound that was near-deafening under the current circumstances. Flinching, I quickly scanned the room. The captain’s quarters were still, as I’d expected. Bookshelves littered with trinkets—glass-blown vases, glittering figurines, jewel-encrusted bookends—and aging tomes dominated most of the walls. And Harlow’s monstrous oil-rubbed desk sat in the middle of it all. Maps and charts were stretched out across it, and a freestanding copper globe stood tall beside her cushioned chair. The locked draws had a certain appeal, and while picking them had been easy, I’d suspected all along Harlow wouldn’t store her conch there.
My eyes cut to the door across the room. Her sleeping chambers. Ozias had joked about me spending the night with her to gain access to her quarters. And while that would’ve been easier—and Ozias wasn’t wrong to suggest such a tactic, given my history—something about that idea had given me pause.
It wasn’t that Harlow wasn’t striking. She was. Possibly even more so than the first time we’d worked together. But every time I caught her gaze, had the opportunity to answer her flirtatious grin with a smirk of my own, an image of Kaori had flashed in my mind. Her dark, intriguing stare hid so much. Occasionally I’d eke a hard-won smile out of her.
None of it made sense. She’d saved my life and become a close friend in that short time we’d spent together training in Hireath. And for whatever reason, every time I thought of doing something dubious, all I could picture was her disdainful glare. I’d spent years enduring Kost’s similar looks, but they had nothing on Kaori.
So annoying. Once this war was over, things would return to normal. At least as normal as they could be with this damned beast lying in wait in my veins. Without any immediate threats, control would be easier. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to suffer from the mental image of Kaori’s disappointed expression.
Quietly, I moved across the room. A row of windows stretched along the back wall, displaying the ink-black waters and faded purple hue of the sky. I needed to get into Harlow’s quarters and snag the conch before the sun fully rose. Otherwise, she’d be awake and ready to take me down with her cutlass.
Once at the door, I crouched before the handle and studied the bolt. I used to enjoy the subtle art of lock picking, the quiet scratch of metal on metal as I coaxed open doors and treasure boxes. The shadows eliminated the need for that particular skill, though. I didn’t even carry my tools anymore. The ink-black tendrils I wielded were more than enough.
Eyeing the keyhole, I called forth a shadow and solidified it to match the opening, creating a key that would grant me access to Harlow’s room. The resounding click was both satisfying and, again, entirely too loud. I held my breath as the door swung inward, and I waited at the threshold.
Harlow slept soundly beneath maroon silk sheets, a brightly colored headscarf wrapped around her hair. Leaning against the nightstand beside her large four-poster bed rested her sheathed cutlass. A threat in and of itself. My gaze bounced from place to place as I tried to determine where she’d hidden her most valuable treasure. I’d turned over her main cabin the night before just to make sure she didn’t have a hidden safe stowed away somewhere. She hadn’t, which meant the conch was in here.
Calling on the shadows, I blanketed my footsteps and moved about her room. Pushed aside trinkets, searched for trapdoors, hidden safes. All the while she slept, unperturbed by my presence. Still, I kept the shadows ready in case I needed to disappear quickly. In the days I’d been following her, she’d never checked on her treasures once. I’d found a trunk of gold aurics and some other valuables of my own volition, but she’d never given away any hints about their whereabouts. The mark of a thief. A smart thief. Normal people always subtly gave things away. Which meant she was being cautious. Careful. The last thing she wanted was for me to go snooping based off a cue she hadn’t meant to give.
Especially since Noc was onboard and Queen Jessamine’s Conch was his by birthright.
The light outside grew stronger, shifting from pale pink to buttery yellow, and I cursed the rays that snuck between the curtains. It wouldn’t be long before her duties as captain forced her out of bed. After I’d perused her shelves a third time, I dropped to the floor and peered beneath her bed. There was nothing but mothballs and a forgotten stray garment collecting dust. As I moved away from the frame, my fingers grazed the edge of a handwoven wool rug. Large and circular, it obscured most of the worn floorboards. It was thick, too. Dense enough to dampen the sound of creaking wooden planks overlaying hidden hollow spaces.
I peeled back the edge of the carpet. The flooring was slightly cleaner, thanks to the rug’s protection, but one plank was just higher than the rest. As if it’d been pried open and shoved back into place time and time again, eliminating a perfect seal. A grin stole over my lips, and I wrenched my fingers beneath the board. I gave it a forceful yank. The board answered with a quiet groan, and I stiffened. Harlow’s snoring stopped. Every sound thundered in my ears as I waited for her to move. The waves crashing against the side of the ship. The scuttle of feet across the deck. Muffled conversations passed between crew members. Shadows formed in a pool beneath my body, ready to engulf me and hide me from view. The sheets rustled, and I glanced back at the open floorboard. A small leather pouch tied off with a red cord teased me with every passing second. Just waiting to be snatched.
Finally, Harlow let out a contented sigh, and her rhythmic snoring picked up again. Adrenaline left me in a rush, and a cool, sweeping sensation raced over my skin. I snatched the sack and replaced the floorboard in record time, tugging the rug back into place. Now, with the prize safely in my grasp, I stepped into the shadows and winked out of existence.
Queen Jessamine’s Conch was mine.