Chapter 10 The Girl Who Froze the Sea.
The next morning is… early. Really early. Judging by the fact that the sun hasn’t even considered rising yet. I groan, roll over, and promptly roll right out of the hammock, landing face-first on the wooden floor with a thud that rattles my teeth. Perfect. So dignified. Gilfred chirps somewhere above me, clearly unimpressed.
“Ugh,” I mutter into the floorboards, dragging myself up on my elbows. My hair’s a mess, my face probably bears the lovely imprint of rope netting, and every muscle in my body feels like it’s gone on strike. Yep. This is definitely not my tower. That was not my bed. And this whole “working for a living” thing is already proving to be far less romantic than the books suggested. Who would’ve thought that spending most of my life in a tower would make me… lazy? There. I said it. Lazy. It’s a humbling realisation, lying here while the world starts moving without me. Above deck, I can hear the men stomping around, their heavy boots thudding. Someone yells something about the wind shifting. Another curses about a missing rope. The whole ship seems alive, awake, and determined. And me? I’m still half-dead on the floor. Gilfred scurries down from the hammock and onto my shoulder, flicking his little tail across my cheek like a disapproving slap. “Yes, yes, I’m going,” I mumble, pushing myself upright. My joints protest, my pride whimpers, but I manage to stand. The air is cool and smells of salt and brine. I can taste the sea in the back of my throat. Somewhere above, gulls are already screaming at each other, apparently even they’re better at mornings than I am.
“Okay, Bella,” I whisper to myself, brushing hair from my face and squaring my shoulders. “Time to work.”
I don’t know what the day will bring but it doesn’t matter. For the first time in my life, I have a day to wake up to. A purpose, however small and if I can survive sleeping in a swinging net and falling flat on my face before dawn, I can survive anything.
I climb the ladder to the deck, blinking against the sharp, predawn wind. The men are already at it—hauling ropes, checking sails, shouting over one another like a pack of half-deaf wolves. None of them seems to mind the lack of sun or the cold. They just… move like they’ve done this a thousand times before.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Eddie calls out from near the helm, grinning over his shoulder. He’s got that smug early-riser energy that I’ll never understand. “Thought maybe you’d decided to hibernate.”
“I was contemplating it on the floor,” I shoot back, rubbing my arm where it still aches from my dramatic reunion with gravity. “It was surprisingly comfortable.”
A few of the men laugh, and even Gilfred lets out a chirp that sounds suspiciously like a snicker.
Eddie just shakes his head, amused, and tosses me a coil of rope. “Here. Think you can manage tying off the side rail? Keeps the nets from swinging.”
I fumble with it for a moment before remembering something from one of my books—over, under, through the loop, and pull. The knot holds. Barely. I grin anyway.
“Not bad,” Eddie says, coming over to check my handiwork. He tightens it with one efficient tug. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I’ll add it to my list of life skills,” I say, counting on my fingers. “Escaping towers, falling out of hammocks, tying questionable knots.”
He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder before turning back to the wheel. “That’s the spirit. Breakfast’ll be in an hour. Try not to fall overboard before then.”
“I make no promises,” I call back.
For a while, I just stand there, hands resting on the cold railing. The horizon is starting to glow faintly now, a smudge of gold where the sun hides beneath the water’s edge. The sea glitters like molten glass, endless and alive. It’s strange how something so vast can make me feel small, and yet so… free. Gilfred settles against my neck, warm and content, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe this—salt air, rough laughter, the promise of breakfast—could be the start of something good. I fall into a rhythm after a while. The men work around me with easy, practised motion, and I do my best to mirror them, coiling ropes, wiping the rail, pretending I know what I’m doing. Eddie checks on me every so often, giving a thumbs-up or a small correction, never impatient. The others shout and laugh, trading insults that somehow sound like affection. There’s something comforting about the noise; it fills up all the quiet places in my head. By the time the sun finally breaks the horizon, the sea glows like liquid gold. The light catches the spray and turns it to diamonds. I lean on the railing, soaking it in. The wind tangles my hair, and the air tastes sharp and alive, nothing like the stale chill of my tower. I feel like I'm finally part of the world instead of watching it from a window.
Eddie passes behind me with a bucket of something that smells suspiciously like fish guts. “You’ll get used to that smell eventually,” he says.
“I doubt it,” I answer, wrinkling my nose. “But thank you for the optimism.”
He laughs, a low, easy sound that blends with the creak of the ship. When he walks off, I stay by the rail, watching the water churn and sparkle. Gilfred climbs down my sleeve and onto the wood, pressing his tiny head to the sunlight. “See?” I whisper to him. “It’s not all bad out here.”
It isn’t. It’s wonderful. Too wonderful. That thought hits hard and a lump forms in my throat, sharp as frost. I shouldn’t be this happy. Not when my parents never even tried to see if I could live like this. They hid me away because of what I might do. Because of what I am. I grip the railing tighter, blinking fast. The joy twists into something raw. They could have given me a chance. I could’ve learned control. I could’ve—
The thought breaks.
Something cracks inside me.
The air temperature plummets. I see my breath fog the air before I even register what’s happening. The wood beneath my hands glitters with frost. It spreads fast, racing along the rail and crawling toward the sea. The laughter around me stutters to silence as a spear of ice shoots from the ship’s side, slicing through the water with a sharp, crystalline hiss. For a moment, everyone stills. Then the ice shatters, scattering into glittering shards that drift out like fallen stars before sinking beneath the waves.
Eddie’s voice breaks the stillness. “Bella…”
I stare at the place where the frost hit the water, heart pounding. My fingers are trembling, my palms numb. The sea ripples outward in perfect rings, calm again, as if it’s swallowed the evidence.
But I swear—just before the waves smooth over—I see movement below. Something dark. Watching.