A day passed on the ocean. Numbly. Without event. The water all looked the same to me. I could not navigate it or discern which ripples would grow into waves—predict which direction the wind would blow to fill our sails. I relied on the captain's announcements to determine where we were.
I had learned that he'd sailed to foreign countries and deserted islands. For fifteen years, he sharpened the miraculous skill of navigating. So, he knew the never-ending stretch of sea like he had designed it. It seemed impossible to memorize the ocean, which never changed. The captain claimed to be good at memorizing things.
Evening arrived, and half of the crew went below deck to rest before they would swap turns with the remaining men above. I had my own room. It was slight. Stuffy, too. If I inhaled too deeply, I coughed on grainy air, but—
It was my own, and that much was enough. I organized pages and ink and pens on the short desk. Then, I placed fire into the small well of a clay lamp. Minutes later, Aestos found me. I was excited to see him despite spending all day with him. But now, we had time alone, and I could fulfill my promise to teach him letters.
I pulled out the desk seat. "We'll start our first lesson tonight."
Aestos replaced his shirt first, then sat in the chair. He leaned over the blank pages, noticing the characters of his name in the top corner of one.
"I want you to replicate those letters," I directed.
I pulled a seat from the hall and squeezed next to him. Our arms touched. Mine slightly leaner than his. And if it was possible, his skin twitched. Still unfamiliar with this way of closeness. I hoped he would eventually grow used to me.
"This is my name?" Aestos asked.
"Yes. The spelling is beautiful."
He grinned. Humored. "You are biased. You chose it."
I snorted laughter and squeezed his arm. "Should I write my name beside it? I believe I can teach you both tonight." I took the dipped pen from his fingers—because he understood the way to hold it, at least—and dotted my name beside his. "My name. Nevian."
"Nevian," he echoed, and I could not hide my grin. Aestos decided then to look at me. "You are delighted by your own name?"
"No, but it is the first time you have used it since I told you. It is lovely how you say it."
He smiled like he was delighted to please me. "Should I use it more often?"
"If you'd like to."
Aestos did not hesitate. "I would like to."
I went hours into the night teaching him the alphabet. A few words. And Aestos was slow to learn this. Whereas he was graceful with his body and pointing a sword, he was clumsy with a pen between his long fingers. His writing was childlike and rounded, scribbled and dizzying. I could not even recognize which letters he had replicated. But he forgot shame. I believe Aestos enjoyed how this was something he could not do. Something he needed to learn. It made him ordinary. Simple. Like a man.
He desired to be simple, I had quickly discerned. Quietly, I was envious of it.
****
Two days later, my stomach contented with the rocking of the ship. I had grown sick on board, and my anxiety had crested into something nauseating that made it impossible to remain steady on two feet. I knew we were nearing my home, and I feared the state of it.
I did not know which would stab deeper. To see my island buried or risen again like tragedy had never touched it. I knew that mockery I could not stand to see.
"Captain!" a man shouted. "We see boats!"
I found my feet and collided with a railing to peer into the water. The sky was as somber as I felt. Moist air pushed into my lungs with each strained breath I took.
Shattered boats. Boards of wood drifting aimlessly. Medicine and things soaked and dissolving in water. Disaster struck deep in my chest. Grief tightened like a noose around my organs. But humans were as morbid as they were curious, so I continued skimming the surface in search of decomposing or perhaps half-eaten bodies. I did not know how I would react if I saw one.
A hand came over my eyes. Aestos.
I was grateful, because he had been compassionate again without me asking. But I could not be cowardly. "I will need to identify my sister," I murmured.
"I will know what she looks like."
I swallowed thickly. My throat had begun to close. "We must find her, Aestos. If we do not find anyone else, let us find her."
"I know, friend."
I believed in him. I trusted him. So, Aestos comforted me and became my eyes, searching for Nelera in my stead. I yearned now more than ever to sing. Hum a broken tune, at least, to press the lingering anxiety out of my body. But Aestos had warned me persistently not to announce my voice to the king's men.
It was miserable. I was constantly holding my breath, and now, I struggled to breathe.
Hours passed with no fortune. I was beginning to think my people had all been buried under the cruelty of water or torn apart by swimming beasts. No, I did not love the ocean anymore. I hated it, if I hated anything at all.
After the third hour, Aestos sent me below deck to compose myself. I thought of crying but doing so fanned my stomach illness and bent me over in agony. I sat stiffly against my bed, clutching my abdomen. And I was lonely. More than anything, with Aestos above and me below. I should help him. It should be me searching for my sister.
A commotion stirred on deck, footsteps slapping the wood and shaking dust from creaking floorboards.
Curious, I went to the surface, and astonishment arrested my heart.
I recognized the island our ship wandered toward. It was the island we had evacuated to many times in preparation for tragedies we knew were to come. It was not deserted, as it had been those times. No. There were people on shore. Jumping. Waving. Calling for attention.
My grip on the splintered railing was punishing. I ignored the pricks to my palm. "Aestos."
"I know," he said beside me. "We are headed there now."
We could not get there fast enough. My heart thrummed. Hoping. How I could be so foolish again to hope was beyond me. But neither could I help it. I could no longer stand the steady bleeding in my chest, so I latched onto the naïve emotion.
Hope prevailed. And life had been given back to me.
My people! My people were on that island! I recognized the brown and bronzed faces. The pleated garments, although torn and dirty. I was elated. Joyful noise rang throughout my heart, and I was with immense relief. Tears fell through my lashes. Pellets, then streams. We were only yards away from shore, and I could not wait anymore. I raced down the ship's edge and threw myself over a side rail.
I forgot my new fear of the ocean as I swam. And swam and swam until the sea pushed me the rest of the way. I clutched the sand, shivering and grateful to be on land again. My people surrounded me with busy, elated cries. Our prince has returned, and He has come to rescue us! I pulled into me the first person I saw.
"Yes," I cried. "I have come to rescue you all."
Two young men helped me stand, and I happily kissed them both. Then, I searched amongst the gathering heads of my people. What remained was significantly less than who had been on our island. I dared to hope again that they were only further inland.
I swallowed hard. Searching for her.
"Nevian?"
My gaze followed the soft sound. She was here. My sister. Nelera. My people knew to clear the way for me, and I raced clumsily across the sand. Nelera met me with a passionate sprint, and I took her in my arms. We cried and we embraced and our broken hearts mended each other's.
"I knew you would come," my sister cried into my chest.
"How, sister? How did you know?"
She pulled away, her eyes runny with relief. "I simply hoped for it."
Foolish sister. Because I had almost not come for her.
I had almost allowed myself to suffer the same fate as the rest of our people.