Ceto’s hand twitched in Levrith’s.

  “Ceto?” Levrith leaned forward.

  Ceto’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

  “Ceto?” he repeated. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

  For several seconds, Ceto didn’t move. “Silas,” Ceto murmured. Even now, Captain Silas Tivera was the only one on Ceto’s mind.

  Levrith swallowed around the lump in his throat. “He’ll be here soon,” he said, hoping Ceto could hear him. “And everything will be all right. You’ll get better.” He tried to think of something else to say. “And I decided I’m not going to visit Lilliana. I’ll stay here, by your side.

  “Or maybe you’d like to visit my island. I think you’d like it there. There are rivers. Or one river. It runs all the way through the island. I think you’ll love it. Being a river naiad and all. And… Well…” He blinked rapidly. “You just need to get better. And I’m sorry for not moving fast enough, for not protecting you. I’m sorry.”

  Footsteps echoed down the hallway, alerting him to someone approaching. Rubbing his cheeks with the back of his hand, he turned to see Everett, followed by the captain.

  Finally, he appears. Levrith grimaced. There was no point blaming the captain. This wasn’t his fault.

  The captain frowned with concern as he approached the sickbed. “How is he?”

  “He spoke but didn’t wake,” Levrith said. He couldn’t bring himself to say that Ceto had spoken Silas’s name.

  “Excuse me, Levrith,” Everett said.

  “Sorry.” Levrith stood, releasing Ceto’s hand and taking a step back, bumping against the wall. Everett picked up Ceto’s wrist.

  “Is that the dagger?” the captain asked. He approached the dagger lying on the workbench.

  “Yes.” Levrith stepped back to move out of his way, which caused him to bump into Everett. “Sorry,” Levrith murmured. The infirmary was too crowded for all of them. “I’ll just…” He stepped out of the room, peering in.

  “I’ve seen this before,” the captain said.

  “What?” Levrith’s head jerked towards him.

  The captain lifted the dagger. “Or similar ones.”

  “Ceto said they used it on him when he was in captivity,” Levrith said.

  The captain’s jaw tensed. He looked between Ceto and the dagger. “Sorcerers use them, but not in battle. Sorcerers aren’t warriors.

  “They use them in their rituals. They cut the nymph. Just a small cut. Then they drain them of their energy and use it to perform their magic. Sometimes the nymph passes out.” His brows furrowed. “But they wake soon after. Usually after several minutes.”

  “Then why is he still unconscious?” Levrith asked.

  The captain examined the etchings on the blade. “In the rituals, the draining of the nymph’s energy is constant, careful. They don’t want the nymph to die.” He grimaced. “They want to be able to keep them alive. That way when the nymph recovers, they can drain them again.”

  The captain placed the dagger on the table. “I assume the sorcerer on deck wanted to drain him fast. No concern about whether he killed Ceto. Perhaps he thought he could use the energy to cast something that might have allowed him to escape.”

  “So what does that mean?” Levrith’s voice was hoarse. “Do you know how he can be saved?”

  The captain grimaced. “My knowledge about this is not comprehensive, but I found some journals and letters on board that belonged to the sorcerer. Perhaps that will help. In the meantime, Everett, continue caring for him as best you can.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  The captain nodded and walked from the room. He touched Levrith on the shoulder briefly and strode down the hallway, leaving Levrith to watch Everett tend to Ceto.

  “Ceto?”

  Ceto’s head felt like it had been stuffed full of algae. His arm ached. His head ached. His chest ached. Everything ached.

  “Ceto?”

  It took all his strength, but Ceto managed to open his eyes. The light from the lantern burned, and he squinted, trying to make sense of the blurred shapes around him. It took him a moment to see that it was Everett and the captain who stood over him.

  “What happened?” he croaked.

  Silas gave him a half-smile. “Good to see you awake. We’ve been worried.”

  “How are you feeling?” Everett asked.

  Ceto swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. “Strange.”

  “Strange? Strange how?” Everett pressed.

  “Mmmm.” Talking was hard. “Tired.” He tried to sit up, but his body felt like water. He flopped back. “What happened?”

  “You were hit with a sorcerer’s dagger,” the captain said. “It drained you.”

  Just like back in the cage, when he’d been captured by the Order.

  “You’ve been unconscious for over a day now,” Everett said.

  Ceto took a deep breath. Fish and piss! Even breathing hurt.

  “Feels different…from the other times.” He felt so much more exhausted compared to when they’d drained him before. And his body ached so much more intensely.

  “Normally, the sorcerer wielding the knife is trying to draw a steady stream of energy. And never too much to kill.” Silas’s jaw twitched. He spoke as if each word caused him pain. Considering he had once been a member of the Order, it didn’t surprise Ceto. That was why he fought against the Order now. To make amends. “I think the sorcerer just tried to draw as much energy as fast as he could.”

  Ceto felt sick to his stomach. To think the Order had touched him with their foul hands again. Drained him. He’d promised himself he’d never let that happen again. “The sorcerer?”

  “Dead,” Silas said.

  “Will he recover?” Levrith asked, voice sounding strained.

  With effort, Ceto turned his head. Levrith stood outside the room. His face was drawn, with bags under his eyes. The mere sight of him warmed Ceto and relieved some of the tension inside him. It made him feel a little safer after discovering that the Order had once again gotten their hands on him.

  “Maybe,” Everett said. “I apologise. When I studied medicine, magical daggers were not covered.” He pressed his thin lips together. “I imagine you will recover in time.”

  “It took a while for the nymphs to recover when they were drained by the sorcerers,” Silas said. “A week or two usually. And you seem…” He paused as if considering his words. “More incapacitated than they usually are.”

  Ceto closed his eyes. Weeks. Longer, maybe. Of being completely useless.

  “I have an idea to speed up your recovery,” Everett said. “Since you’re a river naiad, perhaps you’d recover quicker if you were by a river?”

  “No!” Ceto put as much strength as he could behind the word. He knew Everett’s logic. It was how nymphs worked. They needed to be near their source to stay healthy and strong.

  For dryads it was forests. For naiads, water. Oreads, mountains. That was why, despite the Naiad’s Revenge rescuing all kinds of nymphs, only the naiads stayed. Dryads and oreads couldn’t be away from the trees and mountains. As a river naiad, Ceto knew he would be stronger by a river than the ocean, but the ocean was enough for him.

  Still, Everett was right. He’d certainly recover faster near rivers, but he didn’t want to leave the Naiad’s Revenge. Not for weeks. This was where he had a purpose and where he belonged. What if the crew needed him? What if Silas needed him?

  “It’s important that you rest, Ceto,” Silas said, voice firm. “You need to recover. And if it helps you recover more quickly, then maybe you need to go somewhere to rest.”

  “But what if there is another battle? I’m the first mate. I’m the battle leader for the naiads. I’ll be needed.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll have to do without you as first mate. The important thing is that you get better.” He paused. “And Raiya can take over as battle master for the naiads. The dual role of first mate and battle master was always too much for any naiad. It makes sense if he takes over that role.”

  Ceto tried to keep his face expressionless. To not show his hurt. How long had Silas been planning this? Planning to make Raiya the naiad battle master?

  “We just want you recovered and better,” Silas said, voice not allowing for any disagreement.

  Which was fine, since Ceto couldn’t find the words to speak. Silas was getting rid of him as if he was easily dispensable.

  But maybe he was now that Silas had Raiya. And beyond that, Ceto was injured, weak, and unable to perform his duties. What use was he to anyone right now? He’d probably just get in the way and be a burden to Silas and the crew. Of course Silas would send him away.

  “Where will I go?” He had nowhere but the ship.

  “What about where you were born and grew up?” Everett asked.

  “That’s not safe for him there,” Levrith growled.

  Everett startled, as if he’d forgotten Levrith’s presence.

  “He can come with me to my island. It has a river.” Levrith looked at Ceto. “We can stay there whilst you heal. Weeks or longer if needed. As long as it takes.”

  “You’d take me? Stay with me?” Ceto asked.

  “Of course. Until you’re better again.”

  A wave of relief washed through Ceto’s body. At least he wasn’t being cast aside by Levrith.

  Chapter

  Eight

  “Careful now,” Levrith said.

  They walked down the soft, sandy beach, Levrith’s arm wrapped around Ceto’s waist whilst Ceto leaned heavily against him. Ceto grunted in response, sweat on his brow. He wanted to believe it was because of the heat, but he knew it was because of the exertion it took him to walk. His wound, rebandaged before they’d left the ship, throbbed.

  “Here, you can sit on the bench and rest for a bit.”

  Ceto gritted his teeth as Levrith’s hands moved to his waist, helping him onto a wooden bench facing the water. “Thanks,” Ceto murmured. He tried to be appreciative, but it was humiliating to need this much assistance.

  I can’t even walk or sit without help. How pathetic.

  “Well, welcome to my home!” Levrith said, voice cheery.

  “It’s nice,” Ceto said. He tried to smile and look like he wasn’t miserable, but he knew he’d failed when Levrith’s face dropped.

  “I’m just going to make some arrangements.” Levrith gestured at a group of people openly staring at them. They must have seen Ceto and his inability to walk on his own. Ceto looked away.

  They’d come to shore on a rowboat with several of the crew. Silas stood, dressed in regal red, white, and gold, hands clasped behind his back, looking impressive and handsome as usual. He spoke to a short, older man from the village. No doubt organising to trade and restock the ship. Usually, Ceto would be assisting, organising the transfer of the supplies, and being of use.

  Instead, he sat, watching as the crew carried barrels, hessian bags, and crates to the rowboat. They seemed just fine without him. He despised it.

  Shoving down his anger, he looked around at the place he’d be staying for the next few weeks. The village was nothing like any human settlement he’d seen. Houses of bamboo perched on stilts above the ground. Wooden ladders seemed to be how the houses were entered. Small bridges connected a few of the houses.

  It surprised him that Levrith had grown up in a place like this. He’d always pictured him in little wooden or stone cabins, like the ones he’d seen along the rivers he’d travelled. Nothing like this. He didn’t know why, but it bothered him that he hadn’t known the sort of place Levrith had grown up.

  He looked in Levrith’s direction. The number of people around him had grown. Ceto thought he should be nervous around all these strange humans, but Levrith had vouched for them, and he didn’t doubt Levrith.

  “Ceto?”

  He turned towards a woman wearing a brown tube skirt and a dark-red flowing shirt. Curly, shoulder-length dark hair framed her smiling brown face, a face that had definite similarities to Levrith’s. A single earring dangled from her left ear, a string of white-and-dark-blue stones.

  “Hello,” he said.

  Somehow her smile grew even brighter. She stepped closer. “I’m Veratha, Levrith’s mother. I told Levrith I’d bring you some food. He said you like fish.” She held out a bundle wrapped in a large green leaf. Pulling back the top of the wrapping revealed several grilled fish on skewers. The skin was crispy and charred. “Here, take one.”

  “Thank you,” he said, picking up one of the skewers. His mouth watered at the smell of the fish. He took a bite of the smoky-tasting fish, seasoned with spices he wasn’t familiar with. He swallowed. “Delicious.”

  Veratha sat next to him on the bench, happily watching him devour it. She didn’t even flinch when he ate the fisheyes. Some of the pirates who’d been born on the mainland found it repulsive that he ate fisheyes.

  “Here, have another one.”

  Ceto didn’t need to be told twice.

  “Good, good,” Veratha said. “You need to eat.”

  When he finished that one, she offered him another.

  He shook his head, trying to politely refuse. “Oh no. I can’t eat all your fish.”

  “Pfff. Levrith says you are sick. You need to eat. Then you will heal quicker. Food is good for that.”

  He took one. “Thank you.”

  “Do you only eat fish? I can make fish soup. What about chicken? Do you like strong spices? I know some who don’t.”

  He swallowed the fish in his mouth. “Ummm. I can eat chicken. But I prefer fish. Fish soup is good,” he said. He tried to remember what else she’d asked. “I don’t know if I like strong spices. But really, you don’t have to make me anything.”

  She waved a hand at him. “Pfff. I will make you fish soup. Squeeze a bit of calamansi on top of it and it’s delicious. And good for healing.”

  Ceto nodded, even if he didn’t know what calamansi was.

  She smiled in Levrith’s direction. “I used to make it for Levrith when he was a little boy. When he was sick. It was his favourite.” She leaned towards Ceto, lowering her voice. “Sometimes I think he would pretend to be sick just so that I’d make it for him.” She laughed.

  Ceto smiled at the idea of Levrith as a child. Somehow it was hard to imagine the big, towering man as a small boy.

  “What are they talking about?” he asked.

  “They are discussing where to put you.”

  “Oh. I don’t want to be any trouble. I can just sleep outside on the ground somewhere.” It was where he’d used to sleep before becoming a pirate. It was where most naiads slept.

  “No!” She gave a sharp shake of her head, looking offended. “You are a guest. And you are sick! We will take care of you.” She pressed her lips tightly together, tilting her chin up.

  Ceto felt the urge to apologise, but before he could, she continued, “I offered our home. We could sleep in the living room, and you could take our bedroom, but Levrith said that it might be better for you to be closer to the river. And my grandchildren always stay with us. They make a lot of noise.”

  “You really don’t need to go to any trouble for me.” It seemed so excessive that people would go to all this bother for him.

  “Pfff. It is no trouble. You will be taken care of here.” Her tone said that it was not up for debate.

  “Ummm…thank you.” He took another bite of the fish.

  She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re a naiad.”

  He couldn’t tell if it was a question or not. “Umm. Yes.”

  “My mother will be disappointed she didn’t meet you today. She is on one of her nature walks. She is the village healer and is very interested in naiads. But I’m sure she’ll return soon.”

  Ceto didn’t like the sound of that. He knew the sorcerers in the Order were often healers. Silas had told him. They cast healing spells on humans, using the energy they’d stolen from nymphs. Surely, though, Levrith would have told him if his grandmother was a threat.

  He finished the fish skewer. She handed him the last one. He didn’t even try to protest.

  “I’ve never seen a naiad like you,” she said. “We have naiads in the ocean here. But they are green, and they tend to keep their distance. It wasn’t always the case, but in recent years, we’ve had less to do with each other.” Her eyes travelled down his white linen shirt, his breeches, and his boots. “And you dress like a human. Where are you from? Do they dress like you there?”

  Ceto struggled to keep up with all the questions. He had never met anyone like Levrith’s mum. “No. I started wearing this when I joined the pirates years ago. And I’m a river naiad from the mainland in the far north.”

  “Do you visit your family often?” she asked.

  He shook his head, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

  She frowned. “But your mother and father? Siblings? Surely they must miss you?”

  “I never had any family.”

  Her frown deepened.

  “I mean… I know I must have had a mother and a father, but I don’t remember them. Since I was a youngling, I just moved around and followed the river. Sometimes I stayed with other naiads for a bit but never long.”

  She reached out and took his hands in hers, squeezing. “Oh. Poor darling, to be all alone when you were so young.”

  He shrugged. “There were others like me, younglings without families or homes. It wasn’t so bad.”

  “Oh.” She pulled him closer, wrapping him in her arms. He couldn’t remember if anyone had ever hugged him like this. He wondered if his mother had, once upon a time. His eyes started to sting. How was that possible? He never cried about this.

  “Such a strong boy,” she murmured against his hair. He let out a breath. After several moments, she pulled back and smiled. She turned to someone behind him. “Ah, Levrith! Worked out where you and Ceto will be staying?”

  Levrith looked back and forth between them, a frown, very similar to the one his mother had just had, on his face. “My cousin offered his house. He’ll stay with his parents. They’ve gone ahead to prepare it. From the sounds of it, it won’t take them long. We can go now if you wish.”