Chapter 393:

Nancy

Okay, so Marina is not the worst person in the world.

I’m actually,I might even say...fond of her.

Maybe because without His Highness between us, I can see who she really is. Not the pirate’s daughter performing for a prince. Not the rival competing for attention. Just her.

The Devil’s navigator fell sick recently.

Something he ate, probably—the rations on The Bunny are better than what we had on our ship, but they’re still ship rations. So it’s been up to me. I spend hours into the night mapping the night sky, plotting our course, calculating distances.

And she’s there.

Keeping me company.

I didn’t ask her to.

She just does.

Like tonight.

"I still don’t underst’nd how ye can see somethin’ from those little dots." She’s sitting cross-legged on the deck, leaning against the barrel I’m using as a makeshift table.

Her red hair spills over her shoulders, catching the lamplight. Her eyes are fixed on my maps, squinting like she’s trying to decipher a code.

Sometimes her accent comes out—thick and rough and nothing like the polished way she speaks to the prince.

It’s amusing.

It’s... cute.

"It’s really not that hard." I dip my pen in ink. "I offered to teach you, remember?"

"Nope." She shakes her head. "I just need north and south, west and east. I’m good."

I laugh a little.

She grins.

"Oh? I’m glad you’re getting along."

I don’t jump anymore. I’ve learned,the Devil appears and disappears without a sound. One moment the deck is empty, the next she’s there, leaning against the railing, watching us like we’re characters in a play.

"Good evening." I bow my head.

She waves me off.

"Good evening." Marina’s voice is flat.

"My little pirate princess." The Devil pushes off the railing, walks toward us. Her boots make no sound on the wood.

"You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with the little noble."

"You can just call me Captain. Like everyone else."

She says it leaning against the railing, arms folded, her dark hair blowing in the wind.

I don’t mind when she does this often —appears out of nowhere, watches us like we’re characters in a play. She does it sometimes. Just... watches.

It’s unnerving.

"My lover." She says suddenly. "They are a she."

I drop my pencil.

Marina chokes on air.

What an absurd, totally random thought.

"I see." It’s all I can say. Because what can I say to that? What response does such a revelation demand?

"Most people don’t understand it, you know." She continues. Her voice is quiet.

"Some might even deem it unnatural. Or they say we could never find true satisfaction in one another. Society... well. Some would never understand what we have."

I turn to look at her.

Her face is staring off into the distance.

At the water.At something none of us can see. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"But how many of those with conventional love are truly satisfied?" She tilts her head.

"I like to think it’s envy. They limit themselves. They’re unable to find an emotion so all-encompassing, so beautiful, in another."

"You sound like you love... her." Marina says awkwardly,as awkwardly as someone like Marina can say something.

"Yes. You must hold her in high regard." I add on, softer.

The Devil looks at us. Her dark eyes are unreadable but not the cold detached look she often adorns, it’s soft.

"Indeed." She turns back to the water.

"At times, I feel like love is too small a word to encompass what I feel. To have the certainty of someone to trust. Someone on your side. A person that is your home personified."

She raises her hand to the stars—pale against the dark sky, fingers spread like she’s trying to catch the moonlight.

"When she smiles, the twinkle in her eyes makes the brightest stars pale in comparison. Her laughter outshines the most talented orchestra. And when she looks at me..." She pauses. Her hand lowers.

"I desire to place the moon in her hands. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give."

She puts her hand down.

"It’s why it matters not what lifetime it is. I will find her. Again and again."

Wow.

I’ve never heard anyone speak about love like that. Not in books. Not in stories. Not in the whispered confessions of noble ladies who married for convenience and learned to call it contentment.

"That’s beautiful," I say softly.

"It definitely is." The Devil pushes off the railing, her boots silent on the wood. "I would recommend someone experiencing it. Even if just for a moment."

She pauses. Looks at us.

"You certainly won’t experience something this significant with a man." Her voice is flat.

"Well... certainly not a man of this era."

Era.

Does she mean men of days old? Knights and poets and romantics who wrote sonnets by candlelight?

I have a feeling that’s certainly not what she meant.

Again. That feeling. The one I can’t shake. The one that whispers the Devil is more than a mere mortal.

"I bet you’re both stunned as to why I’m here speaking to you about this." She walks toward me.

Her footsteps make no sound on the wood. She stops in front of me.She reaches out. Grabs the ends of my hair. Twines them around her fingers.

"Surely there’s another... reason why I decided to say this." She drops my hair.

The strands fall against my neck.

"I don’t understand." My voice is barely a whisper.

She tilts my head.Turns it gently, firmly...toward Marina.

Marina is still sitting on the deck, cross-legged, leaning against the barrel. Her red hair catches the lamplight. Her eyes are fixed on me. Wide. Watching.

My heart races.

I feel exposed.

Like she can see something I’ve been hiding. Something I didn’t even know I was hiding.

"I—"

No.

I shake my head.

No way.

Not possible.

"No—" I look away, but she’s gone.

The space where she stood is empty.