Royce takes his seat in the boat opposite me.
“Did you get everything we needed?” he asks Phipps as though he hasn’t just left a man behind to die.
“Aye, Captain,” Phipps says. He pats the massive amount of sail filling up the majority of the longboat. If he finds it odd Aris isn’t with us, he doesn’t mention it.
None of them do.
“Where’s Thipps?” Phipps asks.
There’s frantic movement in the boat followed by a gasp when his eyes land on his brother’s body, laid out on another new sail folded in the front of the boat. I look away.
“He saved the princess,” Royce says quietly.
“No,” Phipps whispers. He falls to his knees next to his brother’s form. “Thipps. Come on, Thipps.” He pulls on the collar of his shirt, yanking him up. Thipps’s head rolls backward.
“He’s gone,” Royce says in a gentle tone I’ve never heard from him before.
“No. No.” Phipps scans the crew like this is some joke. His breathing grows more haggard with each face he seeks out. He shakes his brother. “Wake up.”
“I’m sorry, Phipps,” Royce says.
Phipps smooths back his brother’s hair. “He can’t be gone. I never got to tell him he really was better at playing the accordion.” His voice grows sharper, louder, with each declaration. “He doesn’t know that I cheated whenever we arm wrestled. He didn’t . . .” He breaks down into sobs, clinging to his brother’s shirt. “I never told him he was my better half.”
“He knew,” Royce says. “He knew you loved him.”
Phipps’s knuckles have gone white where he grasps his brother’s shirt. “No.” His sobs cover the boat and leak out over the water. They rip through my ears and threaten to tear the rest of me apart, to break loose all the cries I’m holding in for Aris and for Thipps.
I clamp my hands over my ears, but that does little to dampen the sound. Each pain-filled cry lodges in my soul all the way back to the ship.
The island has become nothing more than a spot of light in the distance by the time a ladder clatters down the side of the ship. Men begin climbing and hoisting up the new supplies. Phipps wails and snaps at the sailors who try to take Thipps’s body from him. He yells until they allow him to carry it himself. He struggles under the weight but slowly makes it up the ladder. Eventually, only Rhat, Royce, and I are left. I sit there with my arms crossed.
Rhat climbs up, and Royce rises to hold the ladder steady for him. Once Rhat reaches the top, Royce gestures for me.
I’m half tempted to knock him overboard and row the boat back myself to look for Aris. But who knows what I’d find at this point. And I’d still be leaving Hettie behind.
I stand and move toward the ladder. I pause at its base. “People have always called me a monster because of my skin,” I say, “but you’ve proved you’re a real monster.” I jab a finger at him to illustrate my point. “I’m going to spend every moment of the rest of my life making your life as cursed as mine.” I can practically see the coin glowing through his jacket pocket. Could I get to it before he is able to stop me? If I succeeded, I’d turn him to gold right here.
“It had to be done,” Royce says.
I sneer. “You were only waiting for the right opportunity. I heard you and Rhat talking after we left Lagonia. You wanted a perfect way to be rid of Aris, and what better way than to leave him behind?”
He rubs his forehead, refusing to even look at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you wanted to wait and see what I could do, what I was worth alive, but I’ll never turn anything to gold for you.”
“Is that what Aris wanted?” The small boat rocks back and forth as he leans forward. “I’m not him. I know gold won’t make me happy. It might buy me a new ship, but no amount can buy me a loyal crew or bring back the men I lost to Captain Skulls. So you can keep your cursed gold. I never wanted it.” He sits down hard, sending the boat reeling.
I plunk down to keep from falling overboard. “What do you mean you don’t want the gold?”
“I only accepted your proposal because it meant I could shadow Aris. I thought if he had you, he’d lead me straight to Captain Skulls. I could finally get my revenge and my place in the armada back. I could finally prove Aris was the one who sunk my ship under Skulls’s orders, that he was the one who lost the treaty.”
He stares up at the stars. “I almost had it tonight too. That man with the two Xs on his head—I know he was part of Skulls’s crew. He could’ve vouched that Skulls and Aris met up several weeks before we were set to carry the treaty.” He shakes his head and stares at his lap.
I feel like I must still have gold in my ears. “Aris didn’t sink your ship.”
“Is that what he told you?” He finally musters the energy to meet my gaze.
I don’t believe him. Yet there is so much pain behind his words, so much anger.
“How do you think he knew about this island?” Royce throws his arm back toward the fading lights twinkling over the water. “I hadn’t even heard of it until a few weeks ago, when he claimed he had traced the woman who blew up my ship to here, knowing I’d bring him if there was any chance that woman was still around. Now, since I never found the woman on the island, I fear he met with Captain Skulls, probably to finalize his plans for robbing you before we sailed to your kingdom.
“So your cursing me won’t do any good,” he continues. “It seems I’m already as cursed as my father was. Looks like we have that in common.” He leans against the edge of the boat as it jostles a few feet away from the ship.
“You’re lying,” I say. Royce has given me no reason to trust him in the past week, whereas Aris has always been kind, attentive, and honest. I can’t doubt him. Not now. “And you certainly don’t know anything about being cursed.”
Royce laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Not all remnants are physical, Kora. I’d gladly show you my journal full of every detail, every pain, every nightmare caused by watching my own father be buried alive under a never-ending pile of gold.” His features have taken on a pained sharpness. “But I’m pretty sure Aris burned it or threw it overboard just to spite me.”
“That happened to Aris’s father.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You think he was too ashamed to tell me about it? He wasn’t. And I hope Triton or Poseidon or whoever rules the seas sinks your ship a thousand times over for ever claiming it was you.”
At this, Royce looks surprised. “That man has no shame.” He shakes his head. “What else did he tell you? Did he tell you why he spends so much time at sea? Was it because his mother can’t bear to look her own son in the eyes because every time she does, she only sees her husband?” His voice rises. “Did he tell you about the time he found his mother throwing everything of value from the house in the middle of the night because she thought it would bring him back?” He’s practically shouting, and there’s a wild look in his eyes. “Did he describe what it was like having to explain to her every morning that her husband was dead because she refused to believe it?”
My eyes go wide, and my mouth hangs open. But I don’t know what to say.
“If he wanted my past so badly,” Royce rages, “he should’ve been the one to explain to my mother that all the servants left because they wouldn’t be paid in cursed gold. He should’ve been the one who had to drag his father’s coffin by himself because no one else would touch it for fear of catching the curse.” He raids his pockets, coming up with the coin he’s always rubbing. “He should be the one carrying around a coin from a cursed treasure to remind himself that every decision he makes carries great weight. So he can know how one moment of weakness can ruin so many lives.” He pitches the coin into the bottom of the boat. It clinks away under the benches.
Royce’s lips form a tight line. “I’d gladly have given Aris those memories if he’d take the pain with them.”
I’m speechless. I think about the journal tucked under my pillow. Whose words have I been reading? Those of the ever affectionate and vibrant Aris or those of the broken man in front of me?
“I wanted to warn you about him, but I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Royce says softly.
“You’re the one who was talking about killing me and seeing what my powers are,” I retort, though my heart isn’t in it. In fact, my heart may be breaking.
The anger is gone from his voice, replaced by exhaustion. “What you overheard was Rhat and me trying to reason out what Aris wanted with you. If he was only after the gold, we thought he would’ve killed you already, so we figured he was after whatever powers you have. That’s why I asked you on deck that one day what your curse entailed, but I can see why you didn’t share that information with me now—I was trying to puzzle out what he wanted you for. And we knew then we needed to get him off the ship, but we couldn’t figure out if you were working with him. But when you volunteered to go to the Island of Lost Souls, I figured you really did want to save your father, especially since Aris was so against going—probably because he knew he’d be recognized this time.”
“But you were talking about ransoming me.”
“Not you.” Royce shakes his head. “Aris. That suggestion was Rhat’s attempt at humor—he knew I didn’t want Aris to die, yet at the same time we couldn’t exactly let him go until we had proof.”
“But you said he was broke . . .” I let the words whither before I can imply the same applies to the monarchy.
“His family’s been broke for years. Why else do you think he took up with Skulls in the first place? He’s a Wystlinos.” He puffs out his chest in a mock imitation of Aris. “He’s always thought he was too good for physical labor. He’s always taken the easiest route. That’s included a lot of drinking and gambling instead of working, which is probably why he was jumped before I got inside The Cat’s Cradle. He likely owed them all money.
“And it’s no wonder he fell in with Skulls’s crew given all the time he spent at the taverns. I’m sure he was promised a substantial cut of everything Skulls plundered while the armada was away defending the country during the Orfland Wars. That’s why he sold out his country and his friends to keep the war going by arranging for Skulls to steal the treaty, to keep the armada from returning to protect the coastal cities. If I’m right and Captain Skulls is still alive, then Aris doubtless owes him for botching up the treaty job by letting a second copy get through. I just need the proof, proof I might’ve had if Aris hadn’t knocked out the man who attacked you.”
I go over his words, looking for the flaws in his explanation. “Aris’s family isn’t broke. His family throws more lavish parties than the palace does.”
“Did you attend any of them?” he asks. When I don’t reply, he continues. “Once the money ran out, Aris simply told lavish, made-up tales about what happened at his supposed parties and told everyone the guest list was very exclusive—so exclusive, in fact, that no one was actually invited but you. Sure, once or twice when he won money playing Seascapes or through some other means, he’d actually throw one to keep up the pretense. But you got invites to parties that never existed to make it look like he still had money. He knew you were never going to come. It was all a sham. Everything about him was a sham.”
“No,” I breathe. I’m not sure what I’m denying anymore. “You’re the one who wants my father’s gold. You promised it to your men.”
He shakes his head, sending his hair cascading forward. “I only did that to save you. If I hadn’t promised them payment, they would’ve mutinied. Most of the sailors don’t even know about my father’s curse—they’re men Aris hired when Captain Skulls destroyed my last ship. I’ve been trying to save up to hire a new crew, but with repairs and other setbacks, I haven’t amassed much. I never actually would’ve given them the gold.” When he looks at me, his eyes are pleading. Honest. My stomach flips over with every jolt of the boat.
Could Royce be telling the truth?
My mind flashes to every moment I’ve spent with Aris, from when he wasn’t scared to offer me his arm to when he kissed me a few hours ago before going into The Cat’s Cradle.
But there are other moments. Ones I pushed aside. Like when he’d snapped at me to stay out of his argument with Royce. Or when he’d said we were as cursed as my father. If his own father had been cursed, would he really say that about mine? And on the island, he’d suggested making our escape without Hettie. He said the gold was more important. He’d even lied to Royce from the beginning about why we needed his ship. Were those moments of weakness—of trying to protect me—or were they slips of his true character?
Could he really be that conniving? As conniving and strategic as he was during Seascapes, a game he could play without giving away any hint of his true strategies?
I don’t want to believe I was so easily duped. He cared. Didn’t he? He told me stories about Jipper. He danced with me. He was going to show me the world.
Or expose me to it.
The thought hits me, sucking the air from my lungs.
But he’s the one who held me when I had my first vision of Captain Skulls.
And the one who told me not to tell Royce.
I bite the inside of my lip.
Aris is the one who wanted to go back to Lagonia at every setback—after discovering Hettie aboard and after the storm. Was he trying to protect me or slow me down?
Did he cut the sails loose and slash holes in them?
If he really is the one working with Captain Skulls, what Royce said holds true: Aris hadn’t wanted to go to the Island of Lost Souls because he knew he’d be recognized.
When Royce insisted, he’d then told me we’d find help on that island. Yet, he’d been there before—hadn’t he admitted it himself when he told me Royce was the one working with Skulls? Aris would’ve known there was nothing but pirates and thieves there.
My insides freeze at the thought.
He’d tricked me into telling him the secret of my power under the guise of protecting me from his uncle, the one looking for money to raise an army against my father. The same one he easily could be working with.
And after listening to Royce’s account, it’s also not that farfetched to believe that the supposed disdain between Aris and his uncle was part of one more performance, one more lie Aris fed me.
My head shouts the answer, but my heart doesn’t want to hear it. There has to be something I’m missing. Some flaw in Royce’s explanation.
I can’t find it.
The boat taps against the ship, startling me.
Royce scours the bottom of the boat for his coin, tucking it away in his pocket. He turns to look down at me.
“I’m not sure if you believe me or not,” Royce says, interrupting my thoughts. “Aris has had years of practice lying to people. It’s taken me years to sort out the lies he’s fed me. So you can either believe me, and I’ll continue helping you get your father’s gold back as I promised I would, or I’ll let you have this longboat. I won’t keep you against your will. You can row back to the island to be with Aris if he’s still alive. But you won’t find anyone else to help you there.”
Water gently laps against the boat while he waits for my decision. I stare up the ladder. Hettie is up there waiting and probably wondering why I haven’t climbed up yet.
“Hettie is free to go too,” he adds as if he’s reading my thoughts, “if that’s what’s stalling your decision. I’ll send her down if you want, but you need to decide now. The men on the dock will have undoubtedly sent a few boats after us.”
I swing around to stare into the darkness leading back toward the island as though I’ll be able to see other boats slicing through the water. But everything has gone calm.
I don’t even know if Aris is still alive. I’m not sure I want him to be. Because the more I think about it, there’s no way the words I read could belong to him. There’s no way he could hide so much pain behind such a jovial smile. I wanted to believe it was possible because he gave me hope. But pain like that weighs down a soul. If it doesn’t poison you, it makes you stoic and hard.
Like Royce.
I look away from the island. Away from Aris.
I stare at my tattered gloves. I feel just as ripped to pieces as they are. How had I been so easily fooled, so easily torn apart?
I stare out over the black waves and blink back tears.
I force myself to stand because, if I don’t keep moving somehow, I’ll cry enough tears to drown that whole cursed island and everyone on it. But even then, it wouldn’t be enough to wash away what Aris did to me.
The boat rocks under the sudden movement.
Royce doesn’t hesitate to reach out a hand to steady me. Even after he knows I can turn men to gold.
“I believe you,” I say to Royce when our eyes meet. The words sound feeble in my mouth, but they’re the best I can muster under the circumstances.
He doesn’t take his hand away until I’m safely in front of the ladder. “Trust me, I know what you’re feeling. Eventually, the hatred does go away.” He looks back toward the docks we left. “Sometimes you almost pity him.”
I try to absorb his words as I slowly climb up the ladder, but I can’t. My hands shake on the rungs. I just want to collapse into bed and sleep for days. I don’t want to think ever again. I don’t want to feel anything for the rest of my life. Because as it turns out, the rumors are wrong—my heart isn’t made of gold. It’s very soft and very alive. And now it’s shattered.
Hettie grabs me almost the instant I’m up the ladder. I let her drag me into a long hug. “They told me you were back, and then I saw them bring up that body, and I thought they lied to get me out of that horrible little cell . . .” She glances around us. “Where’s Duke Wystlinos?”
“He’s not coming,” I mumble as sailors raise the anchor and secure the longboat.
I pull away from her and head for the stairs to our room. Men move all around me getting the ship ready to sail. I feel like I’m moving at a crawl compared to them.
I’ve only made it a few steps when Hettie asks again, “What do you mean he’s not coming?” She looks over the side of the ship as though he would be down there even though the longboat is no longer in the water.
I hang my head, too tired to explain. The only thing that keeps me from bursting into tears all over again is the last shred of anger I have toward Aris. And that’s quickly being overtaken by exhaustion.
“What happened?” Hettie prods. “I didn’t spend an entire evening locked in a cell so you could leave me out of this too.”
Royce saves me from having to answer by coming to my side and blocking my view of Hettie.
“I know you’re tired,” he says, “and I promise I’ll let you sleep. But I need you to check on the gold one more time. In case anything else has been separated.”
I can tell Royce is trying to be gentle, considerate. I can read it in the concerned wrinkles of his forehead that he hates asking me.
“There’s something you should know,” I say. “Captain Skulls took the gold.”
His eyes go dark when I explain my earlier vision, but he takes it in stride. “I figured as much. He’s been leaving corpses up and down the coast. But if it’s too hard for you to face that again . . .”
I shake my head. My father still needs me.
I close my eyes and concentrate. I locate the coin first because of its proximity. I only intend to reach out a little, to find the aura of the others, but my sluggish mind doesn’t react as quickly as it should. As soon as I sense the aura, my mind races toward it before I can push it away.
It’s not just my mind. I jolt forward and open my eyes. I’m not standing on the deck with Royce in front of me.
I’m standing in the same ship cabin I’d seen in my earlier vision.
Sitting in a chair directly across from me, guarding a table piled with my father’s gold, is Captain Skulls.
He leans forward and picks up his sword from its resting place across his knees. “I thought you’d come back,” he says.
Then he stabs his blade into my stomach.