Chapter 380:

Daphne

"Storm coming!" I shout.

The crew scrambles. Sails are furled. Hatches are battened. Men climb the rigging with practiced urgency. The sky is darkening—not slowly, not gradually, but all at once, as if someone snuffed out the sun.

It’s been two weeks since the prince rescued the mermaid princess.

Two weeks of watching them from a distance. Two weeks of her following him around the ship like a lost seal. Two weeks of his awkward kindness and her wide-eyed wonder.

In the original work, there’s a storm here.

The prince will fall into the water. He’ll nearly drown. He’ll be saved by the mermaid princess.

And they will fall in love.

Good for them.

I grip the railing. The wind pulls at my coat.

I need her to fall in love with him. I need their bond to form, their connection to deepen, their story to unfold. Because once she’s bound to him—once she’s part of his harem—I can use my contract with the dear main character to search for her.

I feel so close. Closer than I’ve been in years.

I’m glad I’ve taken a step closer.

The first raindrop hits my cheek.

***

Caspian

She doesn’t speak much. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

She doesn’t speak at all.

She only looks. Nods. Shakes her head. Her responses are gestures, not words—a tilt of her chin, a widening of her eyes, a small, sad smile.

But somehow, I understand her.

The woman I saved on the island.

She’s been on my ship for two weeks. Two weeks of watching her watch the horizon. Two weeks of seeing her flinch at loud noises and stare at the stars and trail her fingers in the water whenever we sail close to the shore.

She’s incredibly beautiful.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Her hair is dark, falling to her waist in waves.

Her eyes are blue—not the pale blue of the sky, but the deep blue of the sea, the kind that makes you think of drowning. Her skin is pale, almost luminous, like she’s never seen the sun.

I found her on the island. Naked. Alone. Running from pirates.

I don’t know how she ended up there. Don’t know where she came from. She won’t tell me. Won’t tell anyone.

Marina thinks she’s a spy. Smith thinks she’s a fugitive. Nancy thinks she’s just lost.

I don’t know what to think.

I just know she’s beautiful.

She leans against a barrel, seated on the deck, watching the ocean. Her dark hair blows in the breeze. Her bare feet dangle over the edge. She always looks at the water. Always. Like she’s waiting for something.

Or someone.

I’m so curious.

Who is she? Where is she from? What’s her name? What does her voice sound like?

I take a step toward her, then stop.

Turn around. Raise my spyglass to my eye.

The horizon is empty. Just water and sky and the dark line where the storm is building. The Bunny is there too, a black speck in the distance, following as always.

"Your Highness."

Smith appears at my elbow, offering a canteen. I take it. Drink. The water is warm. Slightly stale. Perfect.

"Thank you."

He nods. Stands beside me, staring out at the endless blue.

"I don’t know how merchants do this," he says. "Because genuinely, I have grown tired of this vast expanse of blue."

I understand him.

When we started out, the sea was beautiful—new and exciting and free. Every sunrise was a painting. Every sunset was a gift. Every wave was a reminder of how small we are, how vast the world is, how much we have yet to see.

Now?

Now I’m sick of it.

The same water. The same sky. The same horizon that never gets closer. I’ve seen so much blue I think I’ll dream in blue for the rest of my life.

When we get back home, I don’t think I’ll ever set foot on a ship again.

"Your Highness." Smith’s voice is quiet. "The woman."

I look at her. She’s still seated on the deck, her bare feet dangling over the edge, her dark hair blowing in the wind.

"She can’t stay on the ship forever."

"I know."

"We’ll reach the monster’s waters soon. It’s not safe."

"I’m aware." I lower the spyglass, tuck it into my coat.

"But despite the fact that we restocked, we can’t afford a detour. The supplies won’t last, the men are already restless, and every day we delay is another day the kingdom starves."

Smith nods slowly. He knows. He’s always known.

"Besides." I glance at the woman—still seated on the deck, still watching the sky, still silent.

"She hasn’t spoken a word. Not one. Even if we wanted to help her, to find out where she belongs, to take her home..." I shake my head.

"Our hands are tied."

"Perhaps she’s mute," Smith offers.

"Perhaps."

I go about my day.

The sky darkens. The wind picks up. The crew scrambles, securing ropes, battening hatches, preparing for the storm that’s been building on the horizon.

I help where I can. Stay out of the way where I can’t.

*

I’m woken by shaking.

Not the gentle rocking I’ve grown used to—the familiar sway of the ship, the creak of the wood, the rhythm of the waves. This is violent. The kind of shaking that throws me out of bed before I’m fully awake.

I hit the floor hard. My shoulder takes the impact. I groan, push myself up, grab the edge of my cot.

What—

The ship lurches again. I stumble. Catch myself on the wall.

A storm.

I leave the cabin.

The corridor is dark,darker than usual, the lanterns extinguished, the shadows thick and hungry. I feel my way along the wall, my boots slipping on the wet floor. Water is already coming in. Spray, maybe. Or waves. I can’t tell.

I reach the deck.

It’s dark.

The nights on the ship always unsettle me—how absolute the darkness is, how the stars seem so far away, how the lanterns only make the shadows deeper. But tonight is worse. The clouds have swallowed the moon. The lanterns have been blown out. The only light comes from the flashes of lightning, brief and blinding.

I hear voices.

Shouting. Screaming. Orders I can’t make out over the wind.

I strain my eyes, trying to see through the dark.

Figures move on the deck—dark shapes against darker sky. The mast sways. The sails tear. Men cling to ropes, to railings, to each other.

The ship jumps again.

A wave crashes over the bow. Water sweeps across the deck, knocking me off my feet. I slide toward the railing, grab it at the last second, hold on with both hands.

The ship lurches again. A second wave, higher than the first, darker than the sky. It hits the ship broadside, tilting the deck, throwing men like ragdolls.

I lose my grip.

The railing slips from my fingers.

I’m off the ship.