Cutlass (24 page)

He shrugged. “Navigation is probably my best skill. If you let it, the Orient will guide you anywhere you need to go.”

Larkin frowned. It was probably hard for her to feel like she could trust the Orient after their last encounter. As Barren observed her contemplation, he laughed to himself and then took a step back, gesturing to the wheel.

“Take it, I’ll be right behind you.”

She hesitated for a moment, but stepped forward, gingerly taking the spindles. Barren could tell she wasn’t certain what to do with the giant wheel; she just held it in place, as if the ship would tumble over if she moved it. Barren reached forward to move the wheel to the left. His hand covered hers for a moment and he noticed that she blushed. Silence fell between them as he moved away.

“How…” she paused, hesitating to ask whatever question she had. “How many people have you killed?”

 Barren shifted uneasily. He wasn’t sure what brought on this question, but he guessed it had something to do with her fight with William.

“I don’t know,” said Barren.

“Why do you ask for their names then, if not to remember them?”

He sucked in a breath. “If I call them by their name, it’s personal.”

Larkin shivered. “Why would you want it to be personal?”

Barren moved to lean against the rail so he could watch her face as he spoke.

“Because my father’s death was personal, and every reaction to his death, I took personally—good or bad. When my father died, no one showed sympathy. No one questioned the wrongness of it. A son killing his father? Isn’t that barbaric? No one thought of it as murder, but that is how I saw it. I watched it.”

Larkin shuddered.

“What you are doing—taking these lives—it’s no better than what William did. Worse, you are leaving people to live with the same pain you carry now. Why do you do it?”

“I don’t
want
to do it,” he said, feeling the sting of her words in his chest. “No matter what
you
think, I didn’t start out with the intention of killing anyone. The best way I knew to get William’s attention, was to send people back to Maris to let him know I was waiting. What I didn’t expect was that those people would fight me. I started to offer a choice: they could die at the end of my sword, or return to Maris, stripped of their clothes and defeated, to inform William I was still there…”

His voice trailed off and he looked up at Larkin. She was shaking her head and her eyes took on a bright shade of green, the way they did when she was mad.

“You saw that it wasn’t working, and yet you continued with the same ploy. I don’t understand, Barren.”

“For my purposes, it worked. I freed far more men than I killed,” he said. “I’m not denying that my actions were selfish. Haunting the coast of Maris was a tactic to make me feel better…to make me feel as if I would finally have revenge for my father’s death. But the ships we attacked became more hostile, and we ended up fighting for our lives several times. Bloodshed is not something I revel in, Larkin.

“So why did you keep doing it? Attacking ships? You could have found another way.”

Barren was silent, and he bit his lip as he thought. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I don’t know.”

“Well…shouldn’t you have a clear answer if you’re going to keep doing it?”

 “Why are you asking all these questions?” Barren countered. He didn’t like being interrogated, and worse, it felt like she was judging him.

“I’m just trying to understand you.”

Barren chuckled. “Any luck?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Then what do you understand about me?”

“I know you are in pain…and I know there’s something about you worth saving. I risked everything today so that you would be safe.”

Barren’s eyes grew dark, and his lips twisted into a faint smile. “I was prepared to die,” he said. “You had everything before you—a way to return home, wealth…”

“But nothing I want,” she said, quietly.

Barren’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Larkin looked away and took a deep breath. “Not the life I had.”

“When did you make that decision?”

“When you almost died.” She looked at him again and her eyes were bright with emotions Barren’s couldn’t quite discern.

“Well, we’re even now—one for one,” he said and walked forward, taking the helm. “You’ve been going the wrong direction for the past five minutes.”

“Sorry,” she blushed, stepping away. “And you’re wrong—it’s two for one. You saved me from the Orient.”

Barren smirked. “Well, you owe me one then, but I’d rather you not have to save my life again.”

“Why? Because I am a girl?”

“No,” Barren shook his head. “Because I should be able to protect my own crew.”

“Then what do I owe you?”

“A chance to prove I am not a bad person.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Barren smirked. “Yes you do…I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your questions. You speak to me with accusation in your voice.”

Larkin’s eyes grew dark. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

Barren considered that for a moment. He supposed he only cared to be understood, and yet he was soliciting understanding from a girl who’d been fed realities of the world by her father. She trusted too much in the title of a man, believing that it, not his conscience, gave him honesty.

Her opinion really shouldn’t matter, but Barren was confused; if she thought he was such a horrible person, she should have let William kill him.

“You seem to think you are immune to the realities of this life, but if you stay in it long enough, they will corrupt you. It’s already begun. You protected me over your fiancé, wounded him even. Am I to believe it is because you felt I was the better man?”

“Truly,” Larkin said. “Things are not always as they seem, but if you are insinuating I will become just like you, you’re wrong. I have a conscience. I could not live with myself if I hurt anyone.”

 “Oh, I would never believe you’d be capable of hurting anyone,
Mrs. Reed
.”

Larkin slapped him. The sting of her hand made Barren flinch. “That’s for breaking your promise!” she said vehemently. After a final furious glare, she stormed away, disappearing in the darkness.

Barren sighed. “I’m an idiot.”

It was dark, but the moon was full and bright light poured over the ocean, causing everything to rise in shadow. Larkin crept up the steps from the hatch where she’d slept since leaving Silver Crest with the pirates. She hoped that Leaf was sleeping, because that was the only way she’d get past him and his hearing. She crawled out of the hatch, careful to close the door quietly behind her. For a moment, she stood on deck of the ship, waiting to see if anyone had noticed her. Sam was at the helm, but he was busy talking to Slay and Alex.

She moved through the darkness, stepping carefully. Her destination was the cabin. She froze when laughter rose out of the quiet, crouching before Barren’s door. Though her heart was pounding from the sudden sound, she realized this was probably the best time to go inside, considering the sound of the door opening and closing would draw attention. So she slipped inside, careful to close the door behind her. She turned, wishing she could hold her breath, as it sounded loud in her own ears. She turned to observe the still room.

Moonlight streamed through the windows and illuminated parts of the cabin. The desk and all its clutter were completely aglow, and the light reached far enough to the bed, where Barren’s sleeping features were highlighted. He had one arm thrown over his forehead, and another resting upon his stomach. Larkin’s breath caught when she heard laughter from outside again, and she watched Barren closely, wondering how he could sleep so deeply when his crew was so loud. Then she found what she was looking for—a trunk in the corner.

She moved toward it and tried to pry it open, but found it was locked. She turned and faced the room. Because of the lack of light, the only place she’d have any luck finding a key was the desk. Why would Barren lock his clothes up in a truck? It wasn’t like anyone wanted them…unless he was hiding something.

For some reason, that gave Larkin all the more motivation to find a key. The desk was crowded with things she’d become accustomed to seeing while away from Maris—most, she assumed were for navigational purposes. A map took up most of the space on his desk, and it was weighted down by pieces of silver. It was a beautiful map, and looked as if it had been painted—thicker paint made for varying textures in the sea and the mountains. Larkin found herself studying it longer than she expected to. This map portrayed the whole of Mariana—the Orient islands and those of the Octent. Larkin had never been to the Octent, but she recognized the names from the history she’d been taught by her governess. Most in Maris referred to the Octent as a barbaric nation, one consumed with the mystique of magic and deception. Larkin always understood them to be a sort of gypsy culture—one that was so separate from what the Orient tried to be that it seemed archaic and backward.

Larkin’s eyes moved from the map to a leather-bound journal. She’d seen Barren with it from time to time, but only when he went off by himself. Thinking it to be filled with writing, she untied the binding and opened it. What she found was very different—drawings. Pictures came to life: there were maps, extending far into the Orient, awash in tones of blues and greens. Landscapes unfolded on the page and she studied them for a long time, having never seen these places before. She wondered if they were even real, or if Barren had seen them, and strangely, if she would ever see them.

Turning the page, a port crowded with ships lingered silently. She recognized it as the port at Silver Crest. As she turned each page, a new image came to life before her eyes—there were portraits of Barren’s crew—Leaf, Sam, Seamus, Slay, the twins, and it seemed they were drawn without the knowledge of the model. Soon she came to blank pages. She frowned, continuing to turn them, thinking she would find something in the opaque leaves. She wasn’t sure what it was about these drawings, but they made her feel closer to Barren. They made her feel as if she understood him more than anyone in the world because in these drawings, she saw emotion, she saw what he cared for, and his vulnerability.

Just as she was coming to the last page, she ran upon a sheet that was marked by a folded piece of paper. Larkin recognized it as her and William’s engagement invitations. She cringed as she picked it up and examined it. This must have been how Barren knew when and where to go to find her. She didn’t think too long on the matter, however, because she noticed an unfinished drawing. Enough of the draft was done for her to make out a beautiful young woman’s face. It took her a moment to recognize her own stare, but when she did, she couldn’t look away. There was such softness to the way she had been portrayed—something she would never expect from Barren. She ran her fingers along the page, feeling the texture of paper and charcoal.

“What are you doing?” the voice shot through her. She dropped the book immediately, and she stumbled away from the desk, the silver light spilling over her.

“Nothing,” she said hurriedly. Barren had gotten out of bed without her noticing. He stood before her, the light illuminating the muscles of his chest, and the black ‘X’ that marked him as a pirate of Silver Crest. He reached for the journal she’d been looking at. She watched him shove it in one of his drawers and turn a set of keys that had already been sticking out of the lock. She could have kicked herself—they were right in front of her eyes and she’d allowed herself to be distracted.

“You’re in my room,” said Barren. “Where you don’t belong. Obviously, you are doing something you’re not supposed to, like looking through my stuff.”

“I wasn’t going through your stuff!”

Barren glared at her. “Then what are you doing in my room?”

“I—” she started, but there wasn’t a good reason for her to be in here. She’d come for clothes, and she’d ended up getting distracted. “I—”

“What were you looking for?”

For a moment, Larkin felt embarrassed, but then her stubbornness took over. “What are
you
hiding?” she demanded. “You must be hiding something, or you wouldn’t be so upset.”

“This is my cabin, I’m not hiding anything!”

“It was out on the desk!” she argued, as if that were a good excuse for her curiosity.

“So that makes it fair game?”

Larkin crossed her arms and glared at him. The keys jingled in Barren’s hand and he moved away from his desk. Larkin watched Barren walk away from her with the keys.

“I…uh…do you have a jacket?”

Barren turned to look at her, perplexed. “A jacket?”

“Yes,” and her words came out in the next breath. “It’s cold…in the hatch. I came in here for a jacket.”

For a moment, Barren’s brows were still creased, but it smoothed with recognition. “Oh.”

He walked over to the trunk, and unlocked it. He searched for a little while through the clothes, and finally pulled out a brown jacket.

“And pants,” Larkin added.

Barren narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“My legs get cold,” Larkin added.