Chapter 10

chapter 10

Maeve

I didn’t expect the thread of pain in Lizzie’s voice when she talks about her brother and family. I certainly didn’t expect to read between the lines to the abuse she must have suffered to fulfill the expectations of her mother. Shame coats my throat. I’m guilty of making assumptions about her, of following the lead of Nox and the others on the Audacity and believing that Lizzie walked from the womb with a cold smirk and a desire for violence.

Maybe she did, but that doesn’t change the fact that the person she is today was formed from a lifetime of experiences, and if the heaviness of her words is any indication, many of those experiences were horrific and violent.

I know what it’s like to live under the expectations of others, but attempting to find common ground is a recipe for disaster. At best, she’ll laugh in my face. At worst, she’ll assume I pity her and hate me for it. Knowing that keeps me from trying to comfort her, but the desire is there all the same.

Before I can do something foolish, she clears her throat. “How did you lose your skin?”

I knew the question was coming. Honestly, I’m surprised no one asked me before. Nox chose not to on purpose. They know better than anyone what Threshold can take from you. But once I agreed to this journey together, it was only a matter of time before Lizzie would want to know about the theft that set me on this path.

Even so, it feels strange to take a deep breath and try to formulate my thoughts into something that isn’t shrieking in rage. At myself. At him. At the entire situation.

She answered honestly when I asked her a truly invasive question. I can do nothing less. The pain in my chest is a living thing as I clear my throat. “I spent a good portion of my adult life avoiding entanglements with sailors and the C?n Annwn. Once Nox recruited me, I stopped leaving the tavern when the tide washed their ships in. I learned to flirt enough to get them to spill information and to avoid advances in a way that didn’t bruise their pride.” And I was good at it, too. I was able to pass plenty of information about shipping routes, plans, and even a few secrets to the rebellion.

But I was so incredibly lonely.

I can’t bring myself to admit that aloud. Instead, I say, “Bronagh is incredibly handsome and incredibly charming. His ship has a trading route through Khollu, Viedna, and the handful of smaller islands within a few days’ travel, so I saw him a lot. He noticed me.”

He noticed me. So much in those three little words. So little. Shame is a live thing inside me. I should have known better than to trust him. I should have known better than?.?.?.

“Keep going.” Lizzie’s words anchor me, drawing me out of my shame spiral. At least a little.

It still hurts to talk. “I thought he was courting me. He’s from Khollu and so he was already making the trip down to Viedna once or twice a month. He started bringing me gifts, slipping them to me when no one else noticed.” More accurately, when my grandmother and mother didn’t notice. They would’ve put a stop to the situation immediately and likely would’ve known the danger he presented. But the illicitness of our interactions only made him more attractive to me.

I was a fool.

I look out at the horizon. “I thought I was in love. In hindsight, I just liked the attention. I liked that someone looked at me and saw something special instead of just a barmaid on a backwater island. It made me reckless.” Bronagh, on the other hand, obviously had a plan. It wasn’t the first time we had sex that he stole from me. It wasn’t the second or third time, either. It was the moment when I truly trusted him, when I snuck him into my room. When I let him close enough to hurt me.

Which is exactly what he did.

I swallow hard. “We had a monthlong affair, and when I woke up one morning, he was gone and he’d taken part of me with him.”

The theft hurt. Of course it did. It always hurts to lose part of yourself, to have it carved from you with selfish actions. But for him to be the one to do it? It made me doubt every instinct I have. I truly believed that he cared for me, and the entire time he was only manipulating me to get what he wanted. Shame is a toxic emotion inside me, and I can admit now that it was probably intentional on his part to make me feel this way. Shame and humiliation ensured I wouldn’t go to others for help, that I would try to do it on my own.

Which meant I was certain to fail.

“I see.” Lizzie examines her fingernails. They’re long and sharp, and I’m honestly not certain how she managed to keep their shape while working on the Audacity. “When we take back your skin, we’ll take his heart, too.”

She says the words so casually that it takes my brain several beats to catch up. I blink. “You mean that literally.”

“That wasn’t a question, so I’m not going to answer.” She drops her hand and gives me an intense look that makes me fight not to squirm on my bench. “I won’t offer you sympathy because it’ll only make you feel worse in this moment. I certainly won’t give you pity. Even if you never recovered your pelt, you would be fine eventually. Instead, I offer revenge.”

She speaks with such confidence that I almost fall into the trap of believing her. That eventually this awful feeling in my chest will go away even if I fail. I shake my head and make an attempt to turn the conversation into safer territory. “Are you sure you’re not offering sympathy because you’re shit at sympathy?”

Her grin is quick and fierce. “That, my dear selkie, was a question.” Her grin widens as I sputter out a protest. It’s half-hearted at best, because I like this break in her cold persona. She leans forward. “And to answer that question, I am garbage at sympathy. I prefer to be a creature of action. If someone hurts me or those I care about, I cut them down without mercy. It provides closure, which I think is more useful than soft words and gentle hugs. Besides, I’m good at killing people. I’m not good at comfort. And I prefer to spend my life only doing things I’m good at.”

I haven’t known this woman long, but that’s such a purely Lizzie answer that I laugh. “That’s one way to go about things.” A spare tear escapes from the corner of my eye, and I wipe it away quickly, hoping she didn’t see. But of course she did. She seems to see everything. “Personally, I think a gentle hug or a soft word can go a long way.”

She shrugs. “There are other people better suited to provide that sort of comfort.”

It’s enough to make me wonder if she was never offered comfort that way, so that’s why she doesn’t know how to give it. Given what she’s said about her mother, it seems likely. I can hardly imagine growing up without an abundance of love. I may have avoided telling my mother and grandmother about the mistake I made that cost me everything, but it’s not because I think that they’ll condemn me. They would never.

But it would hurt them to know that I’m hurt, and I want to spare them that if I can. What about your absence? a little voice inside me whispers. Doesn’t that hurt them, too? I push the thoughts away. It’s too late to worry about now. I’ll make things right when I return home. Hopefully.

Lizzie tilts her head back and sighs. “What’s your mother like?”

It’s nothing more than a repeat of my question to her, in slightly different form. But it’s also an intentional pivot away from challenging topics. A relief, even if it’s only temporary. Does she realize that she’s being kind in this moment? Impossible to say. I think she might be better at comfort than she realizes, but I’m not about to point it out. I have a feeling she wouldn’t take the observation well.

“She’s the best mother I could have ever asked for,” I finally say.

“Details. Obey the spirit of the game.”

I try to tuck my hair behind my ears, but the breeze immediately flips my curls around my face. I huff and give up. “My father was never in the picture. He didn’t die or anything dramatic like that. At least I don’t think he did. I suspect he was one of the sailors who passes through. My mother never really wanted a relationship, but she did want a child. And so she had me.” It’s so easy to picture her in my mind’s eye. We have the same coloring, pale skin with freckles, wild curly red hair. She’s built leaner than I am, but only slightly. “I’ve never doubted for a moment that she loves me. She’s always there to lean on. She is one of those people that’s very good at warm hugs and kind words.”

Lizzie has resumed her blank expression, but there’s something in her eyes that looks almost bleak. “She sounds?.?.?. nice.”

“She is, but she’s not a pushover. You can’t be if you’re running a tavern. The people who cross her only do it once. When my mother draws a line in the sand, the entire village backs her up. It’s only happened a few times over the years, but it’s memorable all the same. She’s terrible at baking, but she can brew the finest beer you’ve ever had. And she sings in the evenings when she cleans up after we’ve closed the doors. She’s got a lovely voice, though I couldn’t tell you if that’s because she excels at music or if it’s just because I love her.”

That carefully blank look on Lizzie’s face is morphing into curiosity again, and I know exactly what she’ll ask next. Which is why I ask my own question in a rush. Reckless with the desire to avoid where we’re headed. “Do you still love Evelyn?”

Just like that, the curiosity snuffs out of Lizzie’s deep brown eyes. “I’m bored of this game. I’m going to take a nap.”

I watch in stunned disbelief as she reclines back on the bench, somehow contorting gracefully into the space, and closes her eyes. There’s absolutely no way that she falls asleep so quickly, but it only takes seconds for the rise and fall of her chest to settle into a gentle cadence.

I suppose that’s one way to get out of an argument question. It’s absurd, but I suppose it’s better than throwing herself over the edge of the boat and diving deep until I’ve forgotten what I asked. I’ve used that method to exit uncomfortable conversations a time or two in the past. Impossible to speak when you’re in your seal form and beneath the waves.

Does she realize that her abrupt end to the game is answer enough? She obviously still cares very deeply for Evelyn, and why not? In the days that I sailed on the Audacity, Evelyn quickly became a bright spot in the experience. She’s beautiful and bubbly and quick-witted, and she doesn’t bend when it comes to things that she cares deeply about. What’s not to love about that? She’s certainly clever enough and powerful enough to ensure no one would steal something valuable from her.

In fact, Evelyn is the one who does the stealing. I watched it happen half a dozen times. She’d be talking or flirting or making jokes with one of the crew members or Nox or Bowen. Her hands move when she talks, and most of the time, they wouldn’t notice that those movements resulted in her slipping an item off their person and into her pocket. The first time it happened, I almost said something, but before she moved away, she gave a sheepish grin and returned the stolen article.

And she returned it every single time.

She’s interesting to me in a way that I don’t know what to do with. There’s something almost like jealousy in my chest, but that doesn’t make a bit of sense. What do I have to be jealous of? I certainly have no designs on Bowen. The man’s terrifying, and his joining the rebellion has not made him less so. Even when he’s trying to be kind, there’s something about him that’s so rigid it makes me worry he’ll trample me if I step out of line. Perhaps not intentionally, but it happens all the same.

Except I’m not being honest with myself, am I? It’s not Bowen I’m jealous of. It’s Lizzie. Because this vampire that I don’t quite understand and yet am drawn to all the same is someone who intrigues me on a level that I’m not prepared to deal with. Even if I was, her heart is obviously with another person. That person might no longer be hers, but it means she has no room for anyone else.

I would be a fool and a half to pursue anything with Lizzie. It would only end in heartbreak. And I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.