Eventually, though, the sounds stop. The silence feels deafening after her onslaught against the door.
For a moment, I think she’s given up.
Just for a moment.
Then, a crash sounds from behind me. I’m on my feet in an instant, ripping open the door. The shattered remains of a wooden footstool lay in pieces at my feet. She stands there, wielding a broken leg like a dagger, and she snarls at me. She doesn’t care about being safe.
Bending down, I gather the other pieces of the stool in my arms before tossing them into the hall. They clatter, rolling away with the gentle movement of the ship.
Pulling myself to my full height, I point my finger at Helena.
“Keep your little weapon if it makes you feel better,” I seethe. My head is pounding as the desire to hit something, anything, rips through me. Helena just stares at me. Her face is paler than normal, and her brows are pinched together. Any fool could see that she is upset. But it's not enough. Not yet.
I continue my tirade. “No matter what, you will get it through your gods-damned mind, Princess. This is my ship, and you will do as I say." Stepping closer, I look her dead in the eyes as I say the one thing I know will hurt her the most. "I bet your father wishes you died instead of your brother.”
Slamming the door, I barely glimpse the hurt on her face before I stomp away to get someone to clean up this mess.
Good riddance.
12
Don’t Be An Asshole Just Because I’m Curious
HELENA
In the hours after Erik’s temper tantrum, I have remained in my room. I’m curled up in a ball on my small bed, clutching his velvet comforter as his words play on repeat in my mind.
The voices of several crew members float through the thin door. “Vigilante,” they whisper as if I can’t hear.
That word. Are they talking about Erik? How could that son of a bitch be someone who lies and cheats to save others? I scoff. I can’t believe it. He is so horrible to me. Besides, even if they are right, it doesn’t change the fact that Erik is an asshole.
The short fibers of the velvety fabric show trails along the quilted patterns as I scratch my fingernails into the cloth. It’s calming.
I’ve long since stopped crying tears fueled by white-hot anger. Now, all that’s left is the familiar burn of a cluster of embers in my stomach. How dare he have anything to say aboutmylife ormyfather?
The worst thing of all is that the captain is right. His words were terrible and potent and true. The truth always stings the most.
My father loved his son and brought him up as his heir. Perhaps he would’ve even begged the gods to bestow a gift worthy of a DemiGod on Henrick. Stupid, horrible, depraved Henrick. No such supplication was made for me.
Being the daughter of the Ice Mer king is meaningless.The daughterof the Ice Mer king is meaningless. I am meaningless.
My stomach rumbles, and I am drawn from my agonizing self-pity party to the necessity of food.
I grab a pencil and pad and go to the door. My hand hovers over the simple aluminum knob. If I try to open it and it is locked… something will break inside me, I can feel it. The effects will not be good for anyone, least of all me.
My body trembles and a flash of cold makes my stomach lurch.
Do it, Helena.
I don’t move. I am frozen in place.
Just do it. Not knowing is worse than knowing. At least if you know, you can figure out how to deal with it.
The air that rushed into my lungs is stinted, freezing the inside of my nose. I lay my hand down and turned. The knob gives way easily, turning in my hand. The way it has a dozen times before.
Life floods back into my cold limbs, and the shaking stops everywhere except in my stomach. I still feel somewhat weak. To my left, there is a guard. With a flash of a bald head, he jerks around to look at me.
I put my hands on my hips and stare at him.