14. A Choice Is a Choice

Chapter 14

A Choice Is a Choice

S amuel was not a man who forgot his facts or figures. Even with Hamish’s fine navigating, he was sure they’d visited the same two islands seven times. Each time, Destin and Hamish squabbled over whether that was true, but Samuel knew. There were six islands. Two on the eastern side of the shelf; four on the other. He also knew which two they’d revisited, no matter how much Hamish insisted the trees were leafier each time, or Destin confidently countered that they were not, in fact, leafier but the very same leaves.

It had taken three days even to get clearance to sail and then another five of advancing and receding on their route, as storm after storm overtook the Gold Coast. There’d been no signs of Erran, Mariel, or her ship in the open sea—and no reports from the other ships recently ported of seeing them at all—and it had been Destin’s suggestion they try the outer islands.

It was during their second week at sea when Samuel recalled a fact about the Eastern Shelf. The mysterious region threw navigators off course and was said to confuse their instruments, sending them in circles until they either surrendered or found themselves in trouble. Hamish then boldly declared that they would have to sail against the wind if they wanted to visit the western side of the shelf, which sounded like a surefire death sentence to Samuel, but he could conjure no better option, and he wasn’t ready to give up on his friend. Erran was a mariner, a man of the sea. Mariel was tough and had learned how to survive through genuine trials, something Samuel had discovered from Destin, over one of their many cold meals aboard Hamish’s monstrous ship, Bella Yanna . He’d learned a lot about the Ashdowns’ upbringing. The more he listened to Destin recount the things they had to do to survive, to ensure the survival of others, the less sure he was that Obsidian Sky had been committing actual crimes.

He’d grown to like Destin, because though he was unpolished, he had a fresh-faced innocence that both explained him and made him an enigma all at once. He thought of him as the kid, even though he was older than all of them.

Unlike in the imaginative books his sister, Artesia, liked to read, where the heroes’ struggles were milked for all the writer could give, they did not have to search every island before they finally spotted the wreckage of the Mistwitch . It was, in fact, the first island they found when they crossed into the western stretch of the Eastern Shelf.

They dropped anchor and rowed to shore.

“GONE INLAND. E+M,” Hamish read slowly, his annunciation so slow and ridiculous, he lost his accent altogether. “Bloody hell. They were here.” He clapped his hands and jumped in the sand. “Aye, they were here!”

Destin fell to his knees and sobbed.

Samuel gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed him and joined Hamish near the exposed hull of the ship. “What do you reckon, mate?”

Hamish’s eyes were full of unspilled tears. He could only shake his head.

“Well, I reckon they’ve been there, what, three weeks? Erran was trained for this. Mariel has lived off the land half her life. If they say they’ve gone inland, they have, and I expect they’ll have found themselves a water source and a place to hunt, gather food. Shelter.”

Hamish brought his knuckles to each eye and nodded.

“It also means they’ve had enough time to ready their shelter against predators. They’ll have traps set, or other deterrents. Let’s be on our toes.”

Their trek inland was the easiest part of the entire voyage because someone had marked arrows on the trees. They followed them, finding first the river and the well and then, close by, a cabin.

A blanket hung on a makeshift line. There was a low fire burning in a rather large firepit. A spear, its tip coated in dried blood, was propped against the side of the structure. Beside it were a couple of crude traps meant for some kind of sea fishing, seaweed and other detritus tangled inside.

Destin brought both hands to his mouth.

“Do we knock?” Hamish whispered.

Samuel considered their options. A knock might be so unexpected as to be misconstrued for an animal that had wandered too close. Walking in without knocking might get the first one who entered speared or stabbed. “Let’s call out to them. They’ll hear our voices and know we’re no predator. If they don’t open the door, then we quietly and carefully enter. And step carefully, lads. Look for tripwire... branches that don’t belong.”

Hamish didn’t wait for accord. He cupped his hands and shouted, “Oy, Erran! Mariel!”

Destin was next. “Mariel! Erran! It’s Des!”

They waited a minute, then tried once more before deciding to cautiously enter the premises. Samuel was not prone to overanalyzing, but though the fire was fresh, he harbored a terrible fear they would walk in to find them both dead.

They’re probably out foraging or hunting. Samuel went first, since it had been his idea, assessing the path for safety before inching slowly up the stairs. He glanced back at the other men before reaching for the handle, only to find there wasn’t one. The door was cracked and had no visible latch.

Samuel gently pressed on the door, stepping in to find a surprisingly serviceable living area, and?—

“Oh. Oh dear,” he murmured, unsure what to do about the sight of Mariel’s bare, sweaty back contorting as she rode Erran into next season. Erran’s hands guided her hips, the two of them moaning and panting.

Well now we know why they couldn’t hear us.

Samuel flung his arms out in a hapless attempt to keep Hamish and Destin from intruding, but intrusion had been their goal from the beginning, and the only conceivable way to keep the situation from getting worse was to announce themselves as swiftly as possible. “Erran! It’s Samuel and Hamish and Destin!”

Mariel ceased her movements. They both froze. She slowly turned and then screamed, rolling off Erran, her hands crossed over her chest to cover herself.

“We’ll... We’ll just give you both... a moment...” Samuel stammered.

“Have we died and this is the afterlife? Nothing else explains what we just saw... right?” Destin whispered, as Samuel ushered them back down the stairs, wondering the same thing himself.

Samuel waited for Erran to stop pacing and sit on the log. Hamish and Destin were still inside with Mariel, and he hoped they’d stay in there for a spell, so he could have the conversation he needed to have with his friend.

“You must have quite the story to tell.” He couldn’t resist marveling at all Erran and Mariel had already assembled, the life they’d built in so few weeks. “One I’m interested to hear once we’re safely aboard the Bella Yanna .”

Erran massaged his temples, his attention pulled to the forest. “I can’t believe... Samuel, I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time believing you’re actually here. How did you find us?”

“I have a story to tell as well. Come, sit. We have more than enough work ahead of us.”

Erran’s abrupt laugh was dry and disaffected as he scratched down the beard growing along his jaw and lower cheeks. He picked the log across from Samuel, perching on the edge like he might flee at any moment. “This hardly feels real.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you find us. The part where you show up right as...” He didn’t finish.

Samuel had been calculating and tabulating the potential facts in front of him from the moment they’d reached shore, but the result had shifted considerably when they’d stumbled on the encampment. What he’d witnessed did not seem possible, but nor did very much about the situation. The only way to confirm was to ask. “Erran, may I make an observation? You can either affirm my thoughts or disavow them, or decline to answer at all.”

Erran was bent over his knees, his hair a disheveled mess. “A Samuel observation. These are always interesting.” His voice blended with the wind, and Samuel had to strain to hear him.

Samuel saved his smile, for Erran wouldn’t see it anyway. “Setting aside the scene we walked in on for a moment, I cannot help but notice you seem... disappointed that we’ve come for you. Or at least not overly enthused.”

The indignation came first, which Samuel had expected, but what he was not anticipating was how fast it collapsed into sorrow. Erran wore the dismal pall of a man who had just been told he had a month to live. “I don’t ken what you want to hear, Sam.”

“You know I prefer the truth, whatever the consequence. But it is yours to give, or not.”

Erran snorted with a chuckle aimed at the sky. “Oy, you wouldn’t understand.”

“How can you know?”

His friend laced and unlaced his hands, sighing inwardly. He glanced in the cabin’s direction, but the others were still inside. “Even I don’t understand it, mate.”

Samuel was grateful Hamish was with the others. For all his good intentions, his roughness would have shut Erran right down. “Try me.”

“Only thing I know, Sam...” Erran raised his head and smiled wistfully. Laughed. “Is that these have been the most bizarre but also wonderful weeks of my life, and if I could... If I could... aye, I ken I’d live in this bliss forever. I really would.”

The undeniable curiosity was almost more than Samuel could bear, but he had enough pieces to get a nominal understanding of the tableau of Erran and Mariel’s island adventures. The wreck had pushed them into working together. Time had pushed them to make a home. And somewhere in the midst of it all, they’d come to understand each other. Develop affection for one another. “I can see the bond between you. It’s palpable.” He quickly clarified. “I’m not speaking of the sex, of course, you understand. I meant... after. What we observed after.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, mate,” Erran quipped, humorless. “Aye, we bonded, but we bonded here, Sam. Here. Here, where we could be anyone—anything we wanted. Where none of the rest...” He shook his head, forming a tight line with his lips. His throat bobbed in a hard swallow. “But out there?” He glanced away when his voice choked.

Samuel decided it was as good of a time as any to tell him he was already apprised of the pieces Erran seemed unable to speak. “You should know, Erran, that Hamish and I are aware of Mariel’s exploits.”

Erran ripped his gaze to Samuel in a flash of panic.

“And will tell no one ,” he said quickly, before the veins in Erran’s temples exploded. “We have already discussed it at length. No one has to know. Ever.”

“Sam—”

“We’ll swear a blood oath if it eases your mind.”

Erran stared, dazed, at the fire. “Does Khallum know?”

“No. And he doesn’t have to know.”

“My... father?”

“I couldn’t say, but I’d wager he’s not familiar with her second life currently, or his search-and-rescue efforts would include bounty hunters.”

“You mean assassins. He’s been known to hire Riverhelm Revenants in the past.”

Samuel wanted to reassure him that Steward Rutland would never murder his own daughter-in-law, no matter what she’d done, but he realized the statement wasn’t entirely true. He couldn’t know what Erran’s father would do, because the situation was unprecedented. Obsidian Sky had plagued the Rutlands and their baronages for a decade. Their crimes would not be hand-waved away. And it was reasonable to hypothesize that finding out they’d been hoodwinked by a woman would not sit well with the men either. “When Hamish and I told your father we planned to conduct our own search, I saw no evidence of this. He expressed nothing but concern for Mariel’s safety.”

“You told him about the Mistwitch ?”

“No. We said nothing of where we were going, only that we would be gone for days, weeks if necessary. Our fathers received the same story. We were met with only slight discouragement, mostly reminders that they had authorities working day and night on the matter, but I suspect they found our offer commendable and decided not to hold us back. They don’t know where we went. We will leave it to you to explain however you deem appropriate.” Samuel smiled. “Just please let us know before we make port in Whitecliffe, so Hamish’s, Destin’s, and my stories can match.”

Erran only nodded.

Samuel was oft considered the logical one of their group, good for practical advice but not as salient with matters of the heart. But it was with logic he formed the words he hoped would bring Erran comfort just the same. “You say you bonded here. That there’s—and I’m taking liberties here—perhaps a certain magic about being stranded together and relying on one another, separate of the world proper, and it has allowed this relationship to blossom when it would not otherwise have come so far. But, Erran, there is nothing I see here but choice. You chose each other. Here. Out there. A choice is a choice. Only you and she can decide whether what you’ve built can sustain the return home, but please do not forget the power rests entirely between you, and nowhere else.”

The others joined them. Mariel had a sling, with a few things inside, and a spear in her hand. Her expression matched Erran’s: adrift and dazed. They both looked at each other, though not at the same time, and something about that made Samuel a little sad, like they’d missed an important moment.

“I ken we shouldnae waste what light is left,” Hamish said.

The Bella Yanna was a much larger ship than the Mistwitch , far more capable of navigating the capricious Eastern Shelf. When Mariel told Destin about her own catastrophic voyage, he was stunned at how different their experiences had been.

They were below deck, in the galley. The others were on the upper deck, probably doing exactly what he and Mariel were doing, comparing stories.

He listened to Mariel tell many incredible tales about the wreck and surviving the island, but she tiptoed carefully around anything about Erran. Her eyes would light up as she’d talk about something they did, some problem they overcame together, but would then transition to a more practical recounting.

Destin realized she was doing this because she was afraid of his disapproval.

After everything she’d done, carving through the meat and bones of her own life to make space for his, it broke his heart.

“Mar, I want you to know... If you love him?—”

“Desi.” She rolled her eyes but without her usual energy or disagreement.

“I have eyes, you know.”

“I ken you do, two of ’em. And you saw people doing what people do, and there’s...” She rolled her lips inward and glanced out the port window. “We had to be a team. We had to rely on one another, or we wouldn’t have made it very far.”

“I only wanted to say...” Destin continued carefully. He’d never been amazing with words, not when they were children and they’d lost everything and not across the years watching Mariel spend herself on vengeance after vengeance. Her heart was too big, and so she’d sealed it off, because how else was she to protect it? “If you cared for him, you’d get no recrimination from me.”

She scoffed. “How’s that? When you betrothed me to him so we could take down his family?”

I was drunk, and I made a mistake. He gathered his thoughts before answering. “I never cared about all that the way... the way you and Remy did. I don’t need it like you do.”

“What?” She twitched her head.

“I said, I never cared about Obsidian Sky and the wrongs done to us and others the way you two did. It was always your show. Your effort. Your dream. I only stayed because you wanted me to, and you wanted me to because you didn’t think I could manage my own self, and that’s my fault. My failing.”

Mariel studied him closely. “Destin, how long has it been since you had a drink?”

“Nineteen days.” He could have recited the hours, the minutes, but those were for him. “I never had to think much before. I’ve had more time in my head these past weeks than I’ll ever know what to do with.”

She leaned forward and gathered his hands in hers. “I am so proud of you. So proud.”

He angled his face away, embarrassed. “Aye. Thanks.”

“And you did the right thing,” Mariel said. Her voice lowered an octave, her expression solemn. “Telling Sam and Hamish. I know you’re worried the others will think... but don’t. They’re loyal men, loyal to Erran, and Erran is... He won’t let this secret leak out, and nor will they. So please don’t berate yourself for making the only choice you could.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m not sure the others will.”

Mariel shrugged. “Then they don’t have to know.”

He flashed her a sad smile. “You don’t ken they’ll figure it out?”

“If they have anything to say about it, they can say it to me,” she stated and gave him a fierce hug from the side.

“I feel the same about you and Erran. I can see it’s more than you say it is, Mar. I can see it in his eyes. Yours.”

Mariel folded her hands in her lap and buried her gaze there. “If I explained it, they’d never understand, especially Remy and Auggie.”

“But what are you going to do when you get back? Return to hating him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I want you to be happy?—”

“I said I don’t know!” She sighed. “I was already beginning to think of the island as a permanent home. I wasn’t prepared for... for this. And maybe, maybe we could get past my secret when it was only the two of us, but I don’t ken... I don’t see it being so simple when we’re back in his world and he has to face his father. And I… I have to face the fact that the auction will now no doubt go ahead, and this time they’ll win. They’ll feckin’ win .”

“One moment at a time. Remember how you always told me that? To take life by the seconds, not think too far ahead?”

“Aye.” She nodded, looking unconvinced. “Aye, I suppose.”

He wasn’t getting anything more out of her. She’d always shut down at the slightest hint a topic was veering too close to personal... dipping too close to peeling down the drawbridge of the keep she’d raised to protect herself.

But what Destin had seen in those few, precious moments was his sister had been happy.

And though he didn’t have all the answers yet, he would make it his mission to protect that at all costs, like she’d always done for him.

Erran had been waiting for Mariel to return to the upper deck. His heart had been a mess the whole time, only half present in his retelling of events to his mates. They were restrained in their teasing, but it just made him more anxious, like they could read straight through to the uncertainty in his chest that felt an awful lot like grief.

Mariel had her arms wrapped around herself as she approached, like she wanted to make herself smaller. Guardians, how he wished he knew how to tell her he adored her for her larger-than-life self, that even a couple of hours without her had left his world unbalanced.

“Hi,” he said when she looked up. His heart brightened at how she seemed to light up for him, but it fell again when she glanced around, as though worried about what others would think.

“Hi,” she said and sidled in beside him. She talked, but then he did too, which led to an awkward dance of pointing and false starts until he finally held up his hands in surrender. “We need to all get our stories straight before we make port.”

Erran knew he should have been thinking about preparations, but all he’d been able to focus on was figuring out how to reassure her nothing had to change, that they could still be whoever they wanted to be. “Aye, we still have some time.”

“Samuel said no one has tied me to Banner, and Destin has offered to say the Mistwitch was his ship, so I don’t have to explain how I came to have it.” She chewed the inside of her lip, gazing stoically into the calm sea. “As for how we came to be on the ship, you and me, Destin had another good idea. We can say he wanted the ship moved from Sandycove to Whitecliffe and needed help, and you offered because he’s family. When he was thrown in jail, we decided to take care of it so he’d have it waiting when he was released. We got caught in a storm, pulled into the Eastern Shelf, and the rest is... exactly as it was.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he said distantly. With every word she spoke, he felt the distance yawning between them, the unscalable chasm that had framed their marriage. It was happening so fast—too fast. “Mariel, I...” Erran abandoned the words, as they would have been inadequate, and drew her face to his. He brushed his lips to the tip of her nose, then the outer corners of her eyes before swooping down to reclaim her mouth with a fiery kiss that softened the edges of rigidity he knew was born of nothing more solid than fear.

“What if they’re watching?” she whispered, her lips brushing his.

“Let them watch,” he growled and claimed another kiss, which set his entire body on fire. “I’m not ashamed. Please tell me you’re not.”

Mariel rested her forehead against his chest. “Just... scared, Erran.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

Erran gathered her hands in his and brought first one and then the other to his mouth. Behind her, the sun had just begun its gentle dip into the horizon, and the sky was a concerto of oranges and golds. A strange vision came to him, of the two of them standing upon the cliffs, repeating their vows with full hearts, but she was already scared, and he was determined to take the burden of her fears if it returned the smile to her face. “Listen to me. Mariel, look at me.”

She blinked hard and did as he asked. Oh, how the tears there broke him. He would fix that too.

“I meant what I said on the island. I mean it still. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. We’ve weathered a shipwreck and boars and... There’s nothing ahead of us we can’t handle. Do you understand?”

Mariel swallowed as she nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

She nibbled her lip again. A bead of blood surfaced on the soft flesh. “I understand.”

“Trust me.” Erran ran his thumb along the tiny wound and kissed her once more. “And I swear to you, we will weather this storm too.”