Vectra said that not all worlds in the galaxy are as beautiful and peaceful as Tripolis.
That I might find plain ugliness, and ugliness disguised as beauty, and very little of true beauty.
But the crudeness of the ship of this 'Captain Kinsley' surpassed my worst expectations. Vectra would certainly award this one as 'plain ugliness'. There was no beauty hidden here. The only somewhat beautiful thing aboard the Lioness was Bonnie, the first mate and advisor to the mentally unstable Edward Kinsley.
I knew nothing of their customs, there were no sailors on Tripolis and the little I knew of them I learned from the tales Vectra whispered here and there, from her travels beyond the borders of our solar system.
I wish I had the slightest idea where I ended up.
I needed to find Isla Rhea.
"Here, girl, you need to eat," Bonnie brought me a piece of bread that began to mold at the edges of the crust.
The ship was swinging back and forth, the unforgiving tide of the sea rocking me with it.
I didn't need to eat, I didn't feel hunger or thirst, or … need. But Bonnie already ogled me suspiciously, sensed that something about me was off, unsettling. So I took the moldy bread and took a bite.
The creak of the Lioness' planks and the distant crash of waves against her hull were a constant reminder that we were at the mercy of Captain Kinsley's hospitality.
Bonnie lingered, her eyes flickering between me and the pale figure on the cot. "He's a handsome one, your brother," she observed, folding her arms across her chest. Her gaze was searching, hungry for the story hidden behind our sudden appearance in the middle of her captain's route.
"How'd you two end up in the water?" Bonnie pressed, leaning against the wall, her posture casual but her eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"Shipwreck," I lied smoothly, avoiding the full truth of our plunge from Tripolis and my unfortunate aim. There was too much at stake to reveal our true nature as Sensitives or our desperate search.
Besides, Vectra said not every world obeyed the same rules. They might not be aware of their guardians.I dipped a rag into the cool water, wringing it out before gently placing it on my brother's forehead. His skin, usually aglow with a golden hue, was now tainted by illness, the fever giving him a flush that seemed to radiate with an inner fire. As I tended to him, my mind raced with thoughts of the fabled cure that lay at the center of our harrowing journey. It wasn't just his life hanging in the balance; it was the future of Tripolis.
"Please," I murmured, more to myself than to him, "hold on."
She approached with a guarded step, her gaze lingering on my brother's pained expression before meeting mine.
"Milada, is it?" she asked, offering a brief nod of solidarity. "You mentioned you'd like to be dropped at the nearest port. Is there someone waiting for you?"
"No," I said, curt but not unkind. The less I gave away, the safer we would be. "I'll find our way from there."
"Way to where? We're on a transport already. If you have a way to pay us, we could escort you wherever it is you're going."
Her offer, genuine as it might be, posed a risk too great to accept. Yet, turning away help wasn't easy with my brother's life teetering on a knife-edge. I met her eyes, finding a well of determination within myself.
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," I replied with a resolve that belied my racing heart. "Just the nearest port will do."
She scrutinized me for a moment longer, perhaps searching for the truth—or a lie she could grasp. Then, with a subtle shift of her weight, she conceded.
"Very well," Bonnie said, a hint of reluctance in her tone. "But should you change your mind..."
Her voice trailed off, leaving the offer hanging in the salty air between us like a lifeline I dared not grab. Bonnie turned then, her boots thudding softly against the wooden planks as she departed, leaving me once again alone with my brother and our secrets.
The lantern swung gently above us, casting shadows that danced like specters over the wooden walls.
I leaned closer to my brother, my lips brushing his ear.
"Hold on, my other half," I murmured, our secret safe for now. "We'll find the dragon heart."
***
I had just finished wetting the cloth again when I paused to look down at my brother's serene face—a striking visage that belied the storm of illness raging within him. His golden skin, usually a sign of robust health, now seemed a cruel mockery in the dim light of our quarters
With a heavy heart, I laid the damp cloth upon his forehead, hoping it would bring some relief from the fever that held him captive in this unconscious state.
Needing a moment for myself, to breathe air not thick with worry and sickness, I stepped away from his bedside and made my way to the deck. The door creaked open, and I was greeted by the salty tang of the sea and the brisk kiss of the wind. Captain Kinsley stood at the railing, a solitary figure against the vastness of the ocean, his eyes closed and brow furrowed as though he was offering silent entreaties to the Sensitives of the deep. Or whatever it was these people worshiped here.
"Captain," I called out softly, not wishing to startle him from his reverie.
He opened his eyes slowly, turning to regard me with an intensity that seemed to pierce through to my very soul. "Milada," he acknowledged, with a nod that suggested both respect and a hint of curiosity.
"May I join you?" I asked, already closing the distance between us.
"Of course," he replied, gesturing to the space beside him at the ship's edge.
The rhythm of the waves lapping against the hull provided a soothing backdrop to my anxiety.
"Tell me, Milada," Captain Kinsley finally ventured, his gaze momentarily tracing the horizon before returning to mine, "What is the destination of your journey?"
I hesitated, the weight of my mission settling heavily upon my shoulders once more. "I am seeking a new beginning," I began slowly, my voice barely rising above the whisper of the sea. "A place where answers might be found, and perhaps... salvation for my brother."
"And where might this place be?" he pressed gently, his demeanor suggesting genuine interest rather than prying.
"An island," I said, the name tasting of hope on my lips.
His reaction was subtle—a slight lift of the brows, a contemplative silence—as if he weighed the significance of my words against his own experiences.
"Curious how you tend to him," Captain Kinsley remarked after a moment, his tone neutral yet probing. "How you...are toward him."
"Because he is part of me," I responded without hesitation, feeling the bond that tethered me to my twin as surely as the anchor secured the ship. "We are one and the same, Captain. His plight is my own to bear."
The wind picked up, its salty fingers brushing through my hair as I stepped closer to Captain Kinsley. He stood like a weathered statue at the ship's edge, his gaze piercing the horizon. The Lioness creaked beneath us.
"I don't trust beautiful people," he confessed abruptly, the statement cutting through the ocean's hum. It was as if he had unveiled a piece of his soul, raw and unbidden.
I couldn't help but chuckle dryly at his declaration, feeling the sting of irony. "What, did you have your heart broken by one of our kind?"
He turned slightly, his profile etched against the shifting blues of sea and sky. "Yes," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of untold stories. "You could say that."
The breeze grew bolder, urging me to match its forthrightness. Edward's eyes found mine, hinting at a challenge. "Where is it that you're going?" His question bore an edge of authority. "If you wish to remain aboard the Lioness, the mystery must end."
A knot formed in my throat, constricting my words like the ropes that bound the sails above. My brother's pale, serene face flashed across my mind, spurring me to honesty.
"Isla Rhea," I divulged, the destination falling from my lips like a sacred incantation.
His reaction was carefully masked, yet I sensed the undercurrents of curiosity and skepticism as he processed my revelation. My heart thrummed, knowing this confession might steer the course of our fates. But there was no turning back; Isla Rhea beckoned with a promise only the desperate could hear, and desperation had become my closest companion.
"Is that right," he finally said, turning to face me with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the mist of uncertainty. "And what is it that you seek on Isla Rhea?"
I steadied myself against the wooden rail, feeling the roll of the waves beneath the Lioness. "A cure for my brother," I replied, my voice firmer than I felt. The vulnerability of my quest lay bare between us, and for a moment, I feared it might capsize me.
"Beautiful things are often the most dangerous," I ventured, an attempt to understand the puzzle before me. "They can be deceptive, hiding their true nature behind a façade."
"Indeed," he replied, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo the distant thunder of a storm beyond our sight. "And yet, here you are, aboard my ship, asking me to trust not only in your beauty but in your story."
"Trust is earned," I conceded, feeling the weight of every league we'd traveled pressing down upon me. "And I intend to earn yours, Captain Kinsley. My brother's life depends on it."
There was a shift then, a softening around the edges of his hardened demeanor. Perhaps he recognized sincerity when it stood before him, or maybe he saw something of himself in my plight.
His eyes were so sad.
"What do you know about Neptune?"
I looked around, beseeching the sea for answers. It seems like this 'Neptune' character, or perhaps a place, was something I should be well aware of in connection to Isla Rhea.
"I'm afraid not much," I confessed. It was always better to feign ignorance, to make myself look stupid, even if in this case, it was partially true.
"You're clearly a foreigner," he said. "Valorian is a country of the Twelve Seas. There are a few islands that house the less skilled, but we are the people of the sea. We sail, we pray, we eat, we fuck on water. It's who we are."
As he spoke of ancient texts stored on land and whispered of legends—including Isla Rhea where the rarest herbs bloomed under the watchful gaze of timeless stars—I saw something ignite in Edward's eyes. It was as if, against his better judgment, the flame of adventure had been kindled within him, fanned by the very winds that propelled us onward.
"Neptune was the God of the Twelve Seas. He granted life, he exacted punishment, he was the law by which Valorians govern their life."
"Was?"
Another shift. He swallowed around the visible lump in his throat. "His sister Salacia killed him … recently. And took his throne. She has an army of vicious sirens that terrorize us and I wish to end the terror."
I nodded. Perhaps we had more in common that I had initially thought, beauty or no beauty. I thought someone like Edward who himself was beautiful for a human would like to surround himself with riches, but any wealth I saw, I saw in the hands of his crew. Around him, there was nothing but the aura of humility and … terrible torment.
If I were Lasicus, I could look into his mind and feel what he felt, sense his true intentions and the real story behind the legend of Neptune. But alas, I was not my brother and if I knew Las - and I knew him - he wouldn't bother uncovering the layers of a human, such trivialities were beneath him.
"Very well, Milada," he finally conceded as the conversation drew to a close and the sun dipped lower, staining the sky with fiery hues. "We'll set course for Isla Rhea at dawn."