Sky of Wind by Emily Deady

Chapter 19

Sol dozed fitfully throughout the night. He didn’t want to admit the princess had been right about his needing sleep. He’d slept so soundly the storm didn’t wake him until it threw him off the pallet and onto the sleeping girl below.

Hopefully he hadn’t hurt her, but everyone was bound to be a bit bruised and battered today.

He left Meena sleeping—still curled in the corner of the bed—and went to see how the rest of the ship fared.

The calm water looked like glass, as though it had not been an angry tempest the night before. Walking around the deck, he could find no sight of the shoreline. The wind had taken them back out to safety.

“It’s a good thing we reinforced the hull,” a sailor said from further down the deck. “That scrape could have done us in.”

Sol stepped toward the talking crew mates. He avoided a pool of water and stooped to pick up a tangled length of rope. His fingers pulled at the knot as he continued his way across the deck.

“You survived the night, your highness?” the captain called out to him.

Sol nodded, stiffly. Being called by his newly acquired title was disconcerting.

“Are we far off course?” Sol asked, looking over the torn sail the two men were mending.

“No,” the captain replied. “Nothing a little tacking can’t fix.”

Sol knew tacking referred to moving a ship into the wind, but he had never understood how the actual maneuvering worked. The sailors seemed to enjoy talking with Meena, perhaps they would not mind explaining it to him. He loosened another knot in the tangled rope, keeping his hands busy while he thought of the words to ask his question.

“Your highness.” The other sailor stepped forward, taking the rope from Sol. “You needn’t concern yourself with cleaning the ship. The captain’d have our hide for letting royalty take over our responsibilities.” He winked at the captain.

“I don’t think the fresh bread survived the storm, but there’s still plenty of stew and porridge to keep you sated. Head below and find some food, your highness.”

Sol did not pride himself on conversing easily with people, but he did know when he was not wanted. With a nod to the sailors, he made his way below decks.

The other two members of the crew nodded politely when he entered. Just like the previous morning, they hurried up the ladder as soon as possible.

Sol ate quickly. Usually, he preferred to be alone, but something about the confined spaces of the ship weighed in on him. He finished eating and went back up to the captain’s cabin.

Knocking gently, he waited for Meena’s invitation before he opened the door.

Her cheerful face greeted him with a welcoming smile.

Sol closed the door behind him. His shoulders relaxed, though he had not noticed they were tense.

Meena sat on the edge of the bed, plaiting her hair into a braid. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Sol responded, leaning his lower half against the bed, leaving as much space as possible between them. “Did you sleep well?” Sol’s mouth quirked into a smile as he realized his question was a silly one.

“The most relaxing night of my life, I think,” Meena responded with a smile. “Although I cannot figure out why every part of my body aches.” She stretched her arms over her head and winced. “I think my arm and shoulder are one giant bruise thanks to this slat of wood here, but I must admit, I’m very glad it was there to cling to. Though it does seem like an odd addition to the room.” She looked around the room, the rest of which was quite simple in its construction.

“I think that’s its very purpose,” Sol said.

“Oh!” Meena touched the handle with what looked like a new appreciation. “That makes so much more sense. I suppose if one sails often, they would know to expect stormy seas.”

Sol nodded, enjoying her cheerful temperament. He did not take correction well from others, and here she was, amiably learning something new from him after nearly dying at sea the night prior.

“Were you being humble yesterday?” she asked. “You said you don’t know much about sailing, but you seem to be quite knowledgeable on the topic.”

Sol shook his head. “Truly, I know nothing about sailing. I wish I actually did. But because I knew how to swim, learning the ropes of a ship was never a necessity for me.”

She wrapped the braid around her head, tying it in place with a large kerchief. “Do you never learn things that are not a necessity?”

Sol frowned. He’d never thought of it that way. “When your constant survival is threatened, you don’t get much of a chance for learning things for the enjoyment of them.”

Meena frowned back at him. “I’m sorry. If I knew anything about sailing, I’d tell you all I know.”

Sol couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face. Her words sounded flowery and empty, but he believed she would do exactly as she’d said. The tiny cabin felt larger than the main room below deck, and he was glad he’d come back here.

“Was learning to wield magic a necessity?” she asked.

“Yes, and no,” Sol responded. “We were only useful to the Quotidian if our magic could expedite the speed of necessary work.”

“Why don’t the Quotidian use their own chaos magic to get work done?” Meena asked.

Sol noted that it was an astute question to ask. “Chaos magic must be powered by chaos, and most are not keen on inflicting pain upon themselves for the purpose of using their magic sustainably over the course of a day or longer.” Sol clenched his jaw. “They do relish using it in shorter bursts, though, when it is convenient to draw the chaos from someone else’s pain.”

“Do you remember learning magic?” she asked. He was thankful to move the conversation into a lighter area, whether she realized she was doing so or not.

“I don’t recall learning it,” Sol responded. “It was something that always was. It was in the tales my grandmother whispered as she rocked me to sleep. It was in the rules my parents enforced to keep us away from the notice of the taskers.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds so beautiful. Other than the taskers part, of course. Just that it always was. I always . . . I never,” she stopped talking.

Sol waited for her to finish her thought.

“I always thought it was something to be scared of. A power that would destroy Iseldis and my family and even me. I just. I never thought it could be something different. I’m sorry.”

Sol nodded. She was right. She had been wrong, even if she had not been the one to twist the truth herself. “I don’t remember the first time I used the harmony within me to wield the magic, but I do remember when I discovered how it worked, I used it discreetly to do things I didn’t want to do, like clean the water pail or shake out the blankets.”

Meena smiled at his memory. “What fun things do you do with it now?” she asked.

Sol exhaled. It seemed it would be impossible to keep this particular conversation from becoming sad. “As soon as the taskers know you’ve learned to channel it, they collar you with a chaos powered gem so you cannot use your voice and therefore cannot access your magic.”

“Oh.” Meena looked down at her hands. “Aizel told me about that.”

Sol held his breath. He hadn’t meant to share that much, and he did not want to carry the weight of her sympathy or guilt or whatever the other emotions were that warred across her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Looking up, she added, “Not that I have any understanding of what that was like, but you did not deserve to grow up under such a cruel set of rules.”

Sol released his breath. He was neither offended by her words, or further hurt by them. “No one does,” he responded.

Her eyes opened a little wider. “Which is exactly why we are here.” She tilted her chin down in determination.

Sol nodded in response. He had put all his energy into getting to the fortress and now he was mere days away from arriving. He still needed to refine the final pieces of his plan.

First, he needed to get a layout of the fort, which hopefully would be easier to access than the palace in Chendas. The magic receptacle was probably in some sort of underground dungeon area which had limited access and only a select few of the soldiers would be aware of its existence and even fewer would know if its purpose. But it would be heavily guarded.

“What is our plan for destroying the stored chaos magic in Falqri?” Meena asked, interrupting his thoughts. “We have not discussed it in detail yet and we only have a few days left to know what we are doing. Shouldn’t we talk about it now while we are on the ship?”

Sol let her talk, barely paying attention. “I can’t make a plan until I see the fort. And it would be best not to discuss it. We never know who is listening.”

The princess glanced around the tiny room. “Alright,” she whispered. “But how will I know what to do?”

“What do you mean?” Sol asked.

“If we don’t discuss the plan, I won’t know what my part is.”

“You’ve already done your part,” Sol explained, confused at her questioning.

“We haven’t even arrived yet, though. What did you expect me to do once we got to Falqri?”

Sol did not have an immediate answer to that question. “I wasn’t expecting you to do anything.”

“Do you plan to do this entire thing by yourself?” Meena asked. “Do you know anyone in Falqri? Surely you’ll need help.”

“Yes,” Sol responded to her first question. “And no. This plan will most likely fail. I don’t think you realize what that means.”

“What plan?” Meena asked, her voice rising a bit. “Of course it will fail if you don’t accept help.”

“Failure means death, Princess,” Sol said bluntly.

“I know,” she responded, standing from her seat on the bed and stepping away from him to lean back against the wall.

This created a little more distance between them, but now Sol could clearly see the expression on her face. And it was not necessarily a view he appreciated.

“I don’t want you to die,” she continued. “I don’t want my family to be destroyed by this chaos magic. I saw my brother get cursed by a Majis—” She stopped speaking with a groan, covering her face with her hands. “See, I still can’t even say it right. A Quotidian mage. I feel as though I’ve been swimming in a beautiful sea, but I never put my head under the water to notice the murky sea floor below is rotting away. Now I’ve seen it and I can’t unsee it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Sol said as she took her hands from her face.

“Never mind. It’s just a feeling I don’t understand yet.”

Sol stayed silent.

“Let me help you,” she said. “I don’t know if I have any skills to offer, but at the very least I can put all my fancy dresses to use and distract the other nobles so you can do some cyphering.”

“That actually would be helpful,” Sol replied. He’d expected her to interact with the other members of her class—a task he had no comfort in doing—but he had not considered working strategically together on it. The less she knew about this mission, the less anyone knew about this mission, the better.

“Should we assign a sort of language to use?” Meena asked. “A way to secretly signal to each other whether a conversation is merely social or if it is part of the mission?”

Sol shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“But what if I’m talking to someone and you need me to keep asking the questions?”

“The less we communicate about this, the better,” Sol replied. Working together was too risky. He would do this alone.

“I’ll follow your lead, then.” The princess relaxed her stance. “I am here to aid you—not get in your way.”

“Thank you.” Sol exhaled. “Are you hungry?” He asked, quickly changing the topic of conversation.

“Starving,” Meena replied, moving to the door.

“The fresh bread got soaked last night, but the stew is hot,” Sol said as he stood from the bed.

“Sol.” Meena stopped in the doorway, blocking his passage. “We are on this ship for four more days.” Her face lit up. “Why don’t you ask the sailors? We are literally stuck here with nothing necessary to do.”

“Ask the sailors?” His mind was still on their conversation and he had no idea what she was referring to.

“About sailing!” she explained. “They know everything there is to know about it, or at least more than either of us.”

Sol hesitated. The sailors had not been overly friendly with him, and he didn’t blame them. He was playing the part of royalty. He had a title he despised. He would despise himself if he was in their position.

“They seem friendly enough,” Meena persisted despite his reticence.

“With you, perhaps,” Sol responded. The princess had a title too, yet somehow the sailors overlooked that and enjoyed her company.

She looked over her shoulder at him, brown eyes open wide and lips curved in a welcoming and happy smile.

Of course the sailors enjoyed her company. No one could be intimidated by her energetic personality. Sol wanted to be angry at the ease with which she carried through life. Perhaps that was what she meant when she said it felt as though her whole life were spent above the water on a beautiful sea. He was jealous of her, yes. But he could not be angry at her. In the short time he had known her, she had constantly focused on making Celesta happy, protecting her family and kingdom, and now aiding him. It was little wonder the sailors loved her. “They have been less friendly toward me,” he tried to explain when he realized she was still waiting for him to speak.

She turned back around and led him through the door onto the deck of the ship.

Sol followed her, still deep in thought. Fortunately, his spatial awareness remained alert or he would have walked right into her back when she stopped abruptly a few steps later.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. Her hands were clasped at her chest and she stared out at the calm, glassy sea. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes. “The sun. The water. The stillness.”

Sol looked from her to the ominously peaceful water. If he hadn’t witnessed its recent storm, he would have called it beautiful as well.

“I was so scared last night.” She turned to him. “Thank you for asking the wind—”

Realizing what she was about to say, Sol leaned forward, covering her mouth with his own in a kiss.

Her whole body stiffened with shock and she grabbed his upper arms, but did not pull her face away.

“I am so sorry,” Sol whispered after he ended the awkward but not unpleasant kiss. His hands instinctively held her waist since there was nowhere else for them to go.

Meena still clutched his arms, her eyes wide with shock. “Please don’t apologize,” she whispered. “I . . . what . . . Ohhhhhh. I almost said it, didn’t I?”

Sol nodded. He could hardly hear her whisper despite the quiet stillness around them. “Perhaps we should have a secret language after all.”

“If that is one of the secret symbols, I’m not complaining.” She still had not taken her hands from his arms.

He stepped back, forcing their contact to end. “I am so sorry, Princess.”

She ducked her head, awkwardly slipping her arms around her own waist. “I can’t believe I almost said that out loud. It was so foolish of me.”

Before Sol could respond, a loud whistle sounded from further down the deck. “It would seem the real storm hasn’t stopped yet,” a sailor yelled.

Sol wished he could dive into the sea and disappear for a moment. He was glad he’d stopped Meena from finishing her sentence about the magic he’d used, but he hoped the sailors were still far enough away they hadn’t heard any of that conversation.

“Good morning, Tillon!” Meena called, her voice loud and cheerfully. A little too cheerful. She quickly made her way across the deck of the ship to join the sailors.

Sol followed her.

“I see your monstrous mer-friend visited us last night to wreak havoc on the ship,” Meena called as she walked.

The captain sputtered in laughter. “Good morning, my lady. Glad to see you are none the worse for wear. Perhaps my nightmares came true after all.”

“What happened to the sail?” Meena asked, pointing to the work in their hands.

“The wind and the waves seemed to be at odds with each other last night, in a way I’ve never seen before. Perhaps it was the mer-monster’s doing.” He paused dramatically. “Anyway, we tried to use the sails to make use of the favorable wind, but you can see the result.” He gestured to the torn sail.

“I’m glad we survived, even if the sail failed us.” Meena said.

“The winds were strong, but they still pulled us through.” Tillon pointed to the full sail on the other mast. “Bertha, there, stayed put.”

Sol looked over to the sail, noting the angle of it against the current breeze. He was glad his wind got them out of the storm, but he was still confused as to how the ship worked against the waves even with the wind on their side.

“Bertha?” Meena had burst into laughter. “You named the sail? And you chose to name it Bertha?”

“Can you think of a better one?” Tillon asked, bristling.

Meena shook her head. “Who’s this then,” Meena gestured toward the down sail.

“This here is Maximilien, but don’t you dare laugh at him now, he gets offended easy, see.”

Meena shook her head, covering a snort with her hand. She looked over at Sol and raised her eyebrows.

Sol scrunched his eyebrows back at her in return, uncertain what she was looking for.

“Tillon.” Meena turned back to the sailor. “What kind of cloth are sails made from to withstand such a powerful force as wind?” She reached down and touched the sail.

“This one here is canvas,” he responded.

“And Bertha?” Meena pointed to the other sail.

“Canvas as well.”

“Are they made with anything other than canvas?” Meena asked.

Tillon looked confused. “No. All sails are made of canvas. It’s the only fabric strong enough for it. They say leather would be better, but it would be too heavy and too expensive. So it wouldn’t be better.” Tillon paused. “Why do you ask, my lady? Are you interested in sailcraft?”

“Yes!” Meena replied. “Well, not particularly. I just like learning new things.” She sent a pointed look back to Sol.

He raised his eyebrows in return, finally understanding. Looking back at the sailor, Sol cleared his throat. “Tillon,” he said, “you seem to know much about sailing. Could you explain how tacking works?”

“Tacking?” Tillon replied. “It’s the first thing a sailing lad learns, and it’s easy as climbing the rigging.”

As Tillon launched into an explanation of the maneuver, Meena subtly glided away, climbing down the ladder toward the kitchen.

Sol smiled at her back and sat down on the nearly dry deck. He picked up the piece of tangled rope he’d had earlier and settled in to listen to all he could hear.