Chapter 21

It's a memory.

I'm aware of it within my dream, the same dream I've had for weeks now. A bed made of down and pillows shifts to rolling hills of grass as far as the eye can see. There's a soft breeze, my pale blonde hair fluid around my vision as I intertwine the stems of wildflowers in my hands.

I can feel the cool, damp ground beneath my bent knees, and the smell of earth is strong. My dress is yellow with white trim as I add another flower to my creation in my lap. A crown fit for a queen. My mother, of course, is going to love it. She loves everything I make her.

A golden butterfly alights on the back of my hand, so I freeze, remaining perfectly still as it opens and closes its wings.

"Hi," I greet it. "How are you today?"

Golden butterflies are my favorite.

Stomping feet stumble through the tall grass, revealing one boy then a second as they come to a stop before me. The butterfly flutters away.

The only feature of the first boy I can identify is his freckles. They're prominent across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks, but I can't distinguish anything else. His body is like a vague mirage in the sunlight, but I know he's scowling. I don't need to see the expression to know it's true. He's always mad about one thing or another.

I try to hide my crown from his view, but he clocks the movement and swipes it from my hands. "Making more of this rubbish, are you?" He places the crown on his head and turns to the second boy. "How do I look?"

The second boy comes into view. Brown hair and brown eyes and a full mouth, piercing in his beauty. He shoves the freckled boy. "Like a twat."

"I think I look rather distinguished." He prances backward and trips over a stick, hitting the ground with a choked sound.

The brown-eyed boy bursts into laughter, walking past him. "Serves you right, you dimwit." He winks at me over his shoulder. The freckled boy, now grumbling, follows close behind until they disappear over the hill.

I open my eyes.

The familiar rock of the boat is the first thing I recognize, the soft creak of its hull. Then the blue sky and too bright sun. I turn my head toward Acker. My cheek is against the inside of his arm, and I marvel at the sight of life within his chest, every breath visual evidence of our victory.

We made it.

Blue squawks from high in the sky.

Acker's eyes open and he blinks up in annoyance, scowling as the bird circles the boat overhead. Then Acker blinks, as if coming to the same realization I just did, and he turns his head to the side so his gaze meets mine. It's the gaze of the brown-eyed boy from my dream, just older and wiser, his life experiences gathered within their depth.

"Hi," he says, voice soft yet rough around the edges .

I can't prevent the emotion entering my voice when I reply, "Hi."

He wraps me in a hug, and I don't allow myself the space to think about it too much as I bury my face in his chest, relishing the utter relief that we made it. We're alive. Looking worse for wear, but alive.

We release each other at the same time, sitting up to survey the ship. The mainsail is halfway unrolled from the boom but intact. The headsail, however, is dangling from its post and ripped in two. The mast and boom appear to be solid, and there don't seem to be any imminent leaks. With only the mainsail, we'll be slower moving but operational. It could be worse.

I inspect the belongings we stored in one of the fishing wells. Everything is soaking wet, but that's to be expected.

Acker scrubs a hand down his face and over his chin. "I feel like I spent the night downing pints."

I retrieve the waterskin and drink half of it before passing it to Acker. "Do that often, do you?"

He finishes the bottle, throat bobbing with each swallow. "I've had my fair share of fun. What about you? Fancy a helping of wine? Gin?"

"Alcohol isn't permitted in Alaha, but Kai did steal his father's mead once. We puked our guts up during morning conditioning."

He smiles. "I've had similar experiences of my own. Swore off drinking more times than I can count. Unlike me, Hallis hasn't had a drop to this day."

I begin to work on fixing the sails, tightening the halyard. "Is he still as big of a twat as he was as a child?"

Acker goes still at my words, eyes locked on me as he comes to a stand .

Keeping my expression blank, I retie the rope to the sail, satisfied with the new knot. "He picked on me a lot," I say, meeting his gaze before moving on to the next.

Acker leans a forearm on the boom. "He had a crush on you. Just didn't know how to express it properly."

I make a face. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" he says, careful.

"You weren't much better, so what's your excuse?"

He doesn't answer, silence stretching between us as I begin to raise the sail. It lasts until we have everything rigged and ready to go, then he blocks my path to the rudder, forcing me to give him my full attention.

"When did you start getting your memories back?"

This conversation is already exhausting, and I kind of regret mentioning anything. "Maybe since the Market. I've been having these weird dreams. At first, I thought they were nonsense, but they keep getting more vivid. Like I'm reliving certain memories."

He studies me, as he's trying to figure out if I'm withholding information. "I've wondered if your memory would return once we're back on land, but whatever hold Wren had on them might be slipping as you get further away from him."

"I don't always remember them. Sometimes I wake up and the dream is…fuzzy."

With the strangest face, he says, "What have you dreamed about me?"

I'm surprised he skipped out on the chance to tease me with that question. I lift a brow at his inquisition and convince myself I'm not disappointed. "Not much, really. Only this memory of you and Hallis stealing my crown of flowers. "

A crease forms between his brows. "A crown of flowers…"

Of course the one memory I have is so inconsequential to him that he doesn't remember it. "That and the one time you professed your undying love for me."

Color leaches from his face, so much so that it gives me pause. His face morphs into annoyance when he realizes I was only joking, and I can't help the laugh that escapes my lips at his embarrassment.

He turns away. "I was nine."

I follow him to the stern of the boat. "What did you say? What did I say?"

He pulls the fishing rods from the hull and begins inspecting them for damage. "I'm fairly sure I said you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen." I swear the tips of his ears are pink when he glances up at me. "You laughed in my face." He glares. "Feels a little reminiscent of right now."

I struggle to tamp down my enjoyment, sobering my features the best I can. "I'm sorry."

He gives me a look that clearly says he doesn't believe me, but a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "You're kind of beautiful when you lie."

I'm stunned into silence, caught off guard by his admission.

He gives me his back as he works on getting a rod set up for cast. "It was the day before you disappeared actually."

I've watched him enough to know how he likes to string the lures, and I work alongside him to ready the rest of the poles. "Perhaps I did run away then."

I can see his smile in my periphery. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind a time or two. But let's be honest, no girl would run from my pretty face."

I roll my eyes. "I was seven. And from what I can remember, you were all gangly limbs and messy hair. I'm fairly sure I thought you had cooties."

"I did have cooties. I grew into them. Now, they're devastatingly handsome cooties."

"Devastatingly humble ," I murmur under my breath, tone dripping in sarcasm.

He casts the first line and sets the rod in the side of the hull, turning his attention to me. "I'm glad we agree on both accounts."

I can't stop the heat from flooding my face. "I agree," I tell him, careful to keep my expression blank as I stare into his undeniable beauty. "You are also beautiful when you lie."

The gloating tease in his eyes narrows into confusion.

"Your match," I say. "She isn't real. You lied to make a point about my feelings for Kai."

He doesn't so much as blink at my accusation, a hint of a smile still poised on his lips, only a smidge sharper. "You mean your lack of feelings for Kai."

I roll my eyes again. I finish my rod and hand it to him to cast as I begin on the next. "How am I supposed to trust anything you've told me?"

He doesn't reply until I'm handing him the next rod. He doesn't take it from my hand, instead placing his grip over mine so I can't let go, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I haven't lied to you. I am matched."

The honesty seems to ring true as his eyes hold mine, unwavering under the heavy glare of sun overhead. I'm unnerved by the sinking sensation in my stomach. I tell myself it's from hunger and dehydration, not any unjustified feelings of disappointment. None at all.

"I didn't take you for a man who'd be indecent with another when you're already claimed."

Another crease forms between his brows. "Are you meaning the other day in the water?"

I don't need to nod for him to know that's exactly what I'm referencing.

He releases the hold on my hand, taking the rod from me. "I was wondering what upset you," he says, casting the line and relieving me of his fierce gaze. "I figured it had something to do with your lingering feelings for Kai, but I'm pleased to know you're concerned with my loyalty."

"Someone should be," I say dryly in admonishment.

I leave him to the rest and take my position at the stern. I don't know what's worse, thinking him a liar or a cheat. Both are untrustworthy in my eyes. I suppose I don't know why I had any expectations of him at all.

He finishes setting up the lines and takes his usual position across from me, back to the nose of the boat. It's early morning, but sweat already dampens his hairline, the moisture creating a sheen down to his throat.

"My match hasn't claimed me," he says. "We haven't married, so there's not a covenant to break. I'm free to do as I wish, as is she."

I lift a questioning brow. "With the way you spoke of the rarity of matches, I figured you wouldn't be so casual to dismiss it."

"I've waited a long time for my match to claim me," he says, expression pensive as he scratches the stubble that's been accumulating along his jaw. "Long enough, I think. "

The words are spoken like he's sorted through the dilemma that has been plaguing him, like the decision has been lifted from his shoulders. He doesn't elaborate on why his match has not claimed him.

I tilt my head to the side, looking at him from a new angle. "And you said no girl could run from your pretty face."

He laughs, and it's pure delight. "I appreciate the lesson on humility."