I would have gone then, left them to it, and found somewhere private to cry, but Bronn wasn’t about to let me embarrass him like that.
‘I’m surprised you’re even out here,’ he’d said to me, his voice sharper than his blade. ‘Given it’s raining.’
My blood had run cold. The edge to his words told everyone that they meant something, and the deck seemed to fall silent with anticipation.
I’d feigned innocence. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
But Bronn was on his feet, his companions following suit. Frightened, I’d tried to sidestep, but they moved to surround me until the railing was behind me and they were a wall of flesh preventing my escape.
‘I mean, given your fear of water.’
He’d held my gaze unflinchingly, driving the words like a weapon hard into my chest, my secret laid bare and bleeding all over the deck.
The others had started to laugh again, but this time with the unspoken promise of menace. They almost couldn’t believe their luck.
‘You?’ one of the men had said. ‘The Captain’s daughter, afraid of water?’
The hilarity of such a notion had them all in stitches again, until their laughter faded into gleeful anticipation.
‘Think it’s time she learned to swim, don’t you, Bronn?’
The challenge was unmistakable, and I’d stared at Bronn through tear-filled eyes, still not truly believing he’d exposed my secret, but knowing that he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, go any further.
And then he’d shoved me hard overboard.
My mouth was open from shock as I hit the waves, and water had rushed in and down my throat, so that I coughed and flailed in panic. It was like reliving the time I’d nearly drowned as a child, like being in my own nightmares. I couldn’t call out, couldn’t scream – there was no air for it – and for those terrifying minutes there was only gasping, then choking, light then dark, as I emerged then submerged, my arms and legs casting desperately around for something solid, something safe, while the crew above mocked and taunted me for sport.
It was Grace who saved me, her strong arms holding me above the water as she swam us back to the rope ladder she’d thrown over before jumping in to help me. As soon as I collapsed back on to the deck, she’d wrapped a blanket round me before turning her wrath on those who had watched and laughed as I’d nearly died.
‘You should be ashamed,’ she’d said to them as I’d coughed up my lungs at her feet.
They’d muttered under their breath and dispersed, but she’d grabbed Bronn by the arm.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she’d said.
He’d pulled himself free of her grip and shrugged. As if I meant absolutely nothing to him.
And that’s when I finally realised I didn’t. Not any more. The friend I’d once had would never, ever have done that to me. Clearly that friend was gone. He’d had a choice – me or the Snakes. And he hadn’t chosen me.
I lost what little hope I had of gaining the crew’s respect that day, learned a whole new meaning to the word ‘humiliation’, and I’ve never truly recovered from Bronn’s betrayal.
But now, with our bodies touching, I am reminded of the boy who meant everything to me, and even now it’s simply too painful for me to revisit those memories.
‘I think I can find my own way from here,’ I say and though I hope to sound indifferent, to my dismay my voice is unnaturally high, catching slightly in my throat. Trying to cover it by giving him a curt nod of thanks, I pull away and carry on, walking a little faster and certainly more flustered than before. Frankly I’m relieved when I reach my father’s room, though I should be nothing but afraid.
He’s sitting by the ornate fireplace, which is purely decorative – I’ve never once seen it lit – reading a book. Talon sits on his shoulder and squawks at my arrival. Displeasure is written all over Father’s face as he takes in my bruised nose, making me feel an unexpected, and highly misguided, sense of triumph. My behaviour has caught him off guard; though it was far from intentional, my disregard for his rules was an unlikely development. But I must be careful. I’m on dangerous ground. So I wait, braced for the castigation that surely is coming.
Instead he gestures to the table where bread and fruit are already laid out. ‘Come, sit with me.’
I do as I’m told, still trying to gauge what mood my father’s in before I speak.
‘I always wanted a son,’ he says, and it’s like a punch to my gut. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No.’ I fight to keep my voice steady. I’m lying. I’ve always known deep down. Of course I have. But to hear him say it? It hurts more than I expected.
‘Instead I have you.’ He looks at me with disappointment. I wonder if he’s expecting an apology that I was born the wrong sex. He’s not going to get one. ‘I would have known what to do with a boy. But you?’
He reaches forward and takes an apple, rubbing it on his sleeve.
‘Perhaps I was wrong to raise you the way I would have a son. But I only know one way to make the Viper. The way my father raised me. The way his father raised him. Maybe you think I’ve been too heavy-handed, but the thing is, Marianne, this is how I was made. Everything I’ve done to you was done to me.’
I’ve never heard him speak of his father. Ever. Rumours of his brutality are all I have of my grandfather.
‘Why then,’ he says, holding the apple up, inspecting its shine, ‘do I not see myself in you?’
We don’t look the same my father and I, my mother’s genes proving stronger. He is tall, I am short. He is white, I am brown. But I know that’s not what he means.
And still I don’t speak, not trusting myself to say the right thing.
‘You’re angry with me,’ he says.
His reflective mood, his change in direction, his sudden insight – everything about this conversation is disconcerting.
‘You’re angry because I arranged the marriage to Torin. Yet I was under the impression you had no desire to succeed me as captain of this ship. Was I mistaken?’ He slices into the apple with his pocketknife and offers me a piece. When I refuse he gives it to Talon who swallows it whole.
I’m going to have to break my silence, persuade him that he has succeeded in raising a daughter who’s as strong as a son.
‘You’re right that I have no wish to marry a stranger,’ I say, choosing my words carefully. ‘But you’re wrong to think I don’t wish to succeed you.’ The role of the Viper has always passed from generation to generation, and can only be broken by one who defeats the captain in battle. Our generational line hasn’t been conquered for over two hundred years, and while I can’t ever imagine commanding my own reign of terror, I don’t want to be the weak link, don’t want to be the one to let the Isles down.
‘Having you in the palace could prove most advantageous. You’ll be privy to all manner of conversations.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘You want me to be your spy?’
‘Marianne, I want you to be useful. This would be your first assignment as an official member of the crew, and I thought it would please you – you have, after all, always made it clear how much you wish to spend time on land. Your constant pestering to accompany us on shore has not gone unnoticed. This way we all get what we want.’