She jumps out, the water reaching her waist, and drags the boat on to the beach. Mesmerised, I climb out and kneel to examine the sand, which looks like powdered coal, then rub it between my fingers where it leaves a smudge behind. Turning to show Grace, I see she’s hauling the boat right up towards the dunes. ‘What are you doing?’
She shrugs. ‘Just don’t want anyone to know we’re here.’ And she retraces her tracks, kicking sand back over the boat’s plough lines.
I frown, suddenly registering that Grace has been quiet too, even for her, and my senses prickle. ‘Anyone in particular?’
‘No.’ But she smiles a bit too brightly. ‘Just old habits and all that.’
I’m about to push her further when she offers me a small box.
‘Here, you may as well have your gift now.’
Trying to disguise my surprise that she’s got me anything, I take it from her and open the lid to reveal a compass. Set in gold, the compass face is surrounded by a circle of dainty cowrie shells that alternate with tiny pink scallops, both as fragile as they are beautiful. In the lid of the box is an exquisite painting depicting the same image of the shells, only with a larger scallop shell in the centre, and the letter V. For Viper. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before and tears spring to my eyes. ‘Grace, thank you. It’s perfect.’
‘I’ve been holding on to that for a long time, waiting for the right moment to give it to you.’ Her smile has an unexpected hint of sadness in it.
‘I love it.’ And for just the smallest moment I see my friend before me, rather than the killer I know she is, and realise how much I’ve missed her.
‘Good. Right, come on. You wanted to see the forest I believe.’
We don’t have to walk far before all I can see ahead of us is dense woodland towering ominously like a wall of darkness. When we reach its outskirts, I worry that I’ll be as good as blind in there, but Grace walks in with such confidence I’m willing to follow.
Within minutes my eyes adjust to the gloom. All the stories are true. The trees are so narrow it would be easy to mistake them as fragile, and they shine as if wet, but when I brush my fingers along the trunks they’re sturdy and dry to the touch. The leaves are sparse on the lower branches, only for the foliage to form black clouds that block out all light on the upper boughs. The ground of powdered ash offers a soft bed to fallen leaves and twigs, and scattered around are tiny black flowers, creating a soft floral carpet. I’ve never seen them before; Milligan doesn’t use them at all. I wish I knew what they were and if they had any medicinal properties. It’s exactly as I imagined it would be, yet somehow far more beautiful. And quiet. So quiet that every step echoes like a thousand tiny explosions beneath my feet. There is an unnatural absence of birdsong, and if any creatures call this place home, they are hidden from sight and sound. Yet the stillness causes me no fear, and despite my exertion my breathing feels a little easier, my mind a little lighter.
When we have walked for a half hour or so Grace stops, shrugging her bag from her shoulders. ‘OK, this’ll do. Up for a bit of sparring?’
‘If you’re in the mood to lose.’
She smiles. ‘You’re on. But you’ll have to find me first.’
And she sidesteps, disappearing behind a tree, her Snake blacks an ideal camouflage in these surroundings.
My adrenaline starts to pump, the perfect balance of fear and exhilaration, and I cautiously set after her. I tread lightly, not wanting to alert Grace to my presence, but moments later her arm swings round a tree and catches me right in the stomach. Winded, I stumble backwards, though still manage to pivot in time to avoid her next attempt. She tries again, kicking her leg high, but this time I’m expecting it and stop her foot with my hands, pushing her away. Now Grace is the one off balance and I capitalise on her momentary weakness, my arms landing strike after strike on to hers, while she does her best to fend me off.
The exchange is just what I needed. Both of us are glad to be in the open air, free to stretch our limbs and minds, eager for the challenge and hungry for the win. Soon the sweat drips down my back as I try to find a way to break through Grace’s defences.
‘Come on,’ she goads me. ‘Getting older’s made you slow.’
‘Just don’t want you to feel bad.’
‘I can handle anything you throw at me.’
‘You asked for it.’
Jumping up, I grab the branch above me, swinging towards her so she only just has time to duck out of the way. I land behind her, and wait as she springs to her feet. She comes at me fast, and I have to parry an endless stream of blows, our arms moving with increasing speed until I do the only thing I can to end it: twist my feet round hers, my dress tying us in knots. It sends us both hurtling to the floor, where we look at each other and burst out laughing.
‘Not bad,’ Grace says, standing up. ‘Not bad at all.’
‘Thanks. What next?’
She hands me a pistol. ‘See that tree?’ She points to a slightly deformed trunk with protruding knots. ‘Hit it.’
‘With pleasure.’ It’s been a while since I fired one, but my aim is sharp and soon the air is dense with gunpowder. When my forefinger is cramping from pulling the trigger, I pause.
‘Good,’ Grace says. ‘I’m impressed.’
She also sounds relieved.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ She rubs the back of her neck. ‘I’m just pleased to see you doing well.’ She meets my eyes and I know she’s not telling me everything. ‘But there’s always room for improvement. Keep going.’
We train until the hour is late, the sun just beginning to drop and the gloom increasing. When we can barely see any more Grace says, ‘Come on, time to go.’ But I notice she sets off in a different direction to the one we came in.
Assuming she has good reason, and more than happy to delay returning to the Maiden, I follow her. My dress is covered in gunpowder and I smell like battle. When we emerge from the forest the relative light hurts my eyes. We’re near the sea, but not at the cove where our boat awaits. Large slabs of dark rock mingle with weeds dusted in charcoal sand and, as we walk over them, I imagine how filthy my feet must be. Ahead of us is a dilapidated building, and Grace seems to be taking me there. She has remained silent for too long and nerves flutter in my stomach as we approach the structure.
Just before we reach the door she turns to me. ‘Whatever happens, I’m with you.’ And without waiting for a reply she goes in.
The atmosphere noticeably changes when I step into the building. Derelict and abandoned, I suspect we are the first people to stand within its four walls for many years – apart from those waiting for us. All the Maiden’s core crew are already here positioned in a semicircle. They’re staring at me – even Bronn, whose jaw is clenched. My father waits in the middle of the room. Someone kneels before him, his hands tied behind his back and a sack over his head. I can smell his fear instantly. Beside me I feel every muscle in Grace’s body tense, and know something terrible is about to happen.
‘My child,’ my father begins, and a chill spreads across me in anticipation of what is to come. ‘Today is a momentous day. Not only do we honour your birth, but the time has come for your Initiation to take place.’