Cleeve’s hand hovers in the air, and I can tell he’s weighing up the merits of sending the axe right back at me. There’s nothing I can do but stand my ground.
Instead he laughs, which in the circumstances is nothing short of sinister. ‘Will it indeed?’ he says with undisguised contempt. ‘One lucky throw doesn’t make you fit to captain this crew.’
I’m not insulted by the slight. It’s a relief to know Cleeve credits my skills to luck – the last thing I need is my father finding out I’ve been hiding talents he’d make vicious use of. ‘I can try again if you like.’
For a moment I think I’ve gone too far and that Cleeve will bury the broadaxe in my chest, but he seems to think better of it and lowers his arm. He adopts an air of casual indifference towards the pair of us but glares at me as he walks past. So much for not drawing attention to myself.
When he’s gone I kneel down beside Toby and use my skirt to wipe the blood from his face. ‘Are you all right?’ He nods and I gently take his chin in my hand to inspect his eye. ‘Come on, let’s get you some salve for that.’
He shakes his head, though, and in a flash is on his feet and running back to the ladder. His speed reassures me that he’s suffered no lasting damage, and I decide it would be wise to join him higher up the ship. I don’t want to be discovered by a returning Cleeve bent on revenge. Because I’m certain he won’t forget this.
I’m not sure what I was expecting on my birthday, but being awoken by Grace bursting through my door before the sun has even risen wasn’t it.
‘Get up,’ she says, pulling back my blanket. ‘Meet me on deck. Bring your cloak.’
Blinking sleep away, I watch her hurry out of the room. We’ve barely spoken since the Rock Island massacre, and I wonder what’s made her seek me out.
Grace is waiting for me at the bow when I emerge on to the deck, and she must hear me coming because as I approach she points to the horizon and says, ‘Look.’
I squint, and in the distance I can make out the distinct shape of land, a shadow against the rising sun, which sends goosebumps up my arm. ‘Is that the Third Isle?’
Of all the six Eastern islands this is the one I’ve most wanted to explore, something Grace knows. It’s more than I dare hope for that we’ll land there today.
‘We’re going over,’ Grace says.
‘We?’
‘You and me,’ she says. ‘You’re mine for the day.’
Adrenaline causes my heart to flutter. This is it. My chance to escape. All I need is a moment alone. One moment and I can be free.
‘Don’t get too excited. We’re going to be training. Taking the opportunity for some target practice.’ She’s talking about firing pistols – it’s not easy to shoot on board, too much potential for disaster – but she’s misunderstood why my eyes have lit up. ‘I have to gather a few things, but stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.’
I stand with my face to the wind, breathing in the salt air as the island comes into closer view, waiting for the moment when I can catch a glimpse of the distinctive shoreline. Like all the islands, the Third Isle is often referred to by another name that reflects its unique landscape, and I confess its name is one of the things that’s always intrigued me most about it. The Black Island. I’ve heard stories about its forests, where the nightheart trees are thin and tall with trunks that glisten like they’ve been dipped in tar, their leaves charcoal that turns to dust in your grasp. The forest floor is said to be ash and if there is life to be found, it’s concealed in dark camouflage. Today I’ll finally find out for myself.
I won’t get a better opportunity than this to flee. I try to imagine what I’ll have to do. Somehow I’ll need to lose Grace, and that will be difficult. For a brief moment I remember I’ll be holding a pistol but the mere thought of hurting Grace is too awful, so I decide to play that one by ear. Assuming I do manage to slip away from her, I’ll then have to hide. But it’s an island, and they’ll know I’m there somewhere – not to mention I’m at a distinct disadvantage having never been there before. Eventually they’ll find me and then what?
The truth weighs me down like an anchor.
This boat is a prison. I am my father’s captive. He will make me a killer or he will have me killed. And I have always known this.
The stark reality of it hits me now like it never has before.
I feel a shift in the air and I’m expecting Grace to have returned, but it’s Bronn who comes to stand beside me. He’s the last person I want to see right now, the last person I want to witness the tears swimming in my eyes.
I want to yell and rage, vent every last scrap of my misery at him, but as I build internally to an outburst, I catch sight of his wrist. Tucked behind the leather band he wears, a scrappy piece of rope, knotted in several places, is straying from its hiding place, and though it’s filthy and frayed, I recognise it as one I made him many years ago. I can’t believe he still has it, let alone wears it, and my anger falls flat. I’m so tired of being mad at him all the time.
He seems oblivious to my conflict; instead he passes me something wrapped in cloth. ‘This is for you.’
‘What for?’ It’s hard to keep my voice steady.
‘You didn’t think I’d forgotten what day it was, did you?’
When I finally dare to look up at him, I see my own weariness reflected back. Our war with each other has taken its toll. I turn my attention to the gift. It’s heavy, and I fold back the cloth to reveal a dagger, the handle bejewelled with black emeralds. It’s exquisite.
‘Th-thank you,’ I stammer, lost for words. ‘It’s . . .’
‘It’s nothing,’ he says. ‘But, you know, it might come in handy one day.’
And with a casual shrug he leaves as if he’d gifted me nothing more than a bit of old loot, which, on reflection, it probably is. I’m tempted to fling it into the sea. Instead I shove it into my belt. For once Bronn’s right. Never know when it might be useful.
By the time the anchor drops and the men lower a small boat into the water, Grace has returned with a bag of weapons and supplies. She tosses the rope ladder over the side of the ship and gestures to me. ‘After you.’
Not needing to be asked twice, I hurl myself over and downwards, struggling to keep from stepping on my dress.
Grace takes the oars and with elegant strokes sweeps us towards land. As the Maiden grows smaller and the land looms larger, I can breathe more easily.
In no mood for conversation, I’m silent as we glide through the water, the sense of defeat I’m experiencing threatening to overwhelm me, the prospect of escape slipping fast away like a dream upon waking. I’m so distracted I don’t realise at first that we’re no longer travelling straight, instead Grace is taking us round the island towards a previously hidden cove. I raise an eyebrow at her in question.
‘Just being cautious,’ is all she says.
I lean over the side of the boat, and allow the tips of my fingers to skim through the clear water. Though I look hard there’s no sign of life beneath us, no fish or weed, and at first this surprises me, until the water grows murkier and the seabed darker so that I imagine my hand is in oil. Looking up, I see the shoreline is as black as the forests found here. Grace smiles. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’