Page 48 of Saint
All around us, the darkness felt like it was moving, and I tried not to think about how small theRivenwas beneath the crests of the black waves. The only ships I’d been on in a storm were beasts compared to this one, with the finest construction and rigging copper could buy. But theRivenfelt like a box of matches floating on the surface of the water. The thought made my stomach roll with nausea.
Saint dropped himself onto the deck beside me and I followed him to the foremast. He waited for me to take hold of the pegs and I lifted myself until one boot left the deck.
“Could get used to this,” he said, pulling at the knots over his head.
My fingers loosened on the iron rods until my boot touched back down. Saint was watching me from the top of his gaze now with a look that felt like it was measuring me. Taking stock of my reaction.
Used to this.I didn’t know what that meant. Used to having a dredger? Another set of hands? Or used tome?
I opened my mouth to ask, but before I’d gotten a single word out, Saint’s hands froze on the knots. Slowly, his eyes lifted over my head and the prick in the air turned sharp, the wind suddenly quieting.
A feeling like fire beneath my jacket crept across the surface of my skin and my hands slipped from the pegs, my fingertips numb.
TheRivencreaked and my weight pulled forward, toward the bow. The feeling was disorienting without being able to see the horizon. It was almost as if the ship were dragging in the opposite direction it had been moving only seconds ago.
Saint stepped away from the foremast and his hair blew across his forehead as he turned his ear to the water. Like he was listening.
“Brace,” he said, the hollow word moving over the ship in the silence.
My brow pulled. “What?”
Clove jammed the lock into place at the helm, immediately reaching for the railing of the steps that led to the upper deck. But I was still searching the mist, trying to see whatever Saint did.
Gray light painted the world silver, casting eerie shadows over the ship. When I spotted movement in the distance, Itook a step toward the railing, my eyes focusing. The clouds were rolling toward us like a flood of smoke.
But the sound that cut through the air wasn’t wind. The ship rumbled with the vibration of it. And every second, it grew louder.
It wasn’t clouds. It waswater.
“Brace!”
The word tore from Saint’s throat again and his arms came around me, driving us backward toward the main mast. He pinned me against it, crushing his weight into me, and the sound of the sea towering over us turned into a sickening growl. It was seconds from crashing down.
His face was so close that his cheek brushed mine as he wrapped his fists into the lines behind me. I was wedged tightly between his body and the mast.
He looked me in the eye. “Breathe.” The word was soft.
He curled himself around me, and I frantically gulped in a chest full of air before the squall broke over the ship. And then we were gone. The world turned black, the crush of the water scraping over theRivenand trying to peel us from the deck. I held on to Saint as it pried at my hands. Pulled my feet from beneath me. The world tipped and turned as the cascade washed over the ship and I buried my face in his chest, my eyes pinched closed.
It wasn’t until I heard his gasp for breath against my ear that I realized we weren’t underwater anymore. The churning was gone, the clouds visible again.
I willed myself to unclamp my fingers from where they were tangled in Saint’s shirt. He was still holding on to me.
“All right?” His words were half broken between breaths.
I nodded, unable to speak. Because we shouldn’t have still been standing. The ship shouldn’t have even been afloat.
At the bow, Nash’s eyes were wide and terrified as he looked up to the sky. He’d pinned himself beneath the foot of the jib. Miraculously, he hadn’t been swept away.
Saint’s arms slid from where they held me, and then he was pushing toward the helm. “Clove!”
“Here!” Clove launched himself from the stairs to the upper deck, headed in our direction. His blond hair was stuck to his face, his shirt pasted to him like wet parchment.
Saint shot another glance to the sea. All around us, the water was churning again. This was no ordinary storm. Judging by the direction of the wind, the squall shouldn’t have even come from the other direction. And it wasn’t over. Not yet.
“There are two,” I said without thinking. “Two storms.”
It was the only explanation. If we’d had the advantage of daylight, we’d have seen it, but in the dark we were blind.
