Whispers On The Deck

The morning sun hadn’t yet fully claimed the deck, its pale fingers struggling through the lingering mist. The sea lay restless and dark, waves lapping against the hull like a temperamental cat nudging the ship awake. Salt stung Kael’s eyes as he leaned against the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the dark water below. The breeze tugged at his hair, teasing the stray strands, but he remained unmoved, a figure carved from calm itself. Yet beneath that calm, his mind churned like the waves — silent but unrelenting.

He could still see her — Aria — standing too close under the flickering tavern light, eyes blazing with something more dangerous than rum. Her laughter had been soft, uncertain, but electric, carrying a tension that made the air between them feel ready to snap. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t dared. Perhaps it was the drink. Perhaps it wasn’t.

Her hand brushing against his arm — fleeting, accidental, or deliberately teasing — had been enough. For a heartbeat, Kael forgot every reason he had to keep his distance. The memory clung to him now, thick as sea mist, invading the quiet of the morning.

She’s the first mate, he reminded himself. And I’m just a stray they pulled from the sea.

The logic was simple. The feeling… was not.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the rhythm of the gentle rocking anchored ship attempt to drown the confusion still lodged in his chest. Whatever had happened last night, he told himself, ended with the sunrise.

But the quiet voice — the one he wished he could silence — whispered otherwise, lingering between heartbeats, curling around him like a shadow.

Footsteps echoed unevenly across the deck. Lior stumbled into view, hair disheveled, eyes squinting, the faint scent of rum clinging to him like a warning bell. He moved like a man half-submerged, boots catching on ropes and planks alike, muttering under his breath.

Kael’s gaze passed over him without acknowledgment. Lior, the second mate under Aria, could fume in his own way; Kael had no desire to add fuel to that fire. His attention remained on the ropes, the rigging, the lingering question of Aria’s gaze and the strange pull it held.

Darius’s voice cut sharply across the morning.

“Lior! Looks like half the sea’s in your head this morning!”

Lior winced, trying to straighten. “Just a rough morning, Captain. Nothing—”

“Save it,” Darius snapped, stepping closer, the wooden deck creaking under his boots. “You’re scrubbing the deck. Every plank, every rope, until your legs remember how to walk straight. No excuses. No rum. Breathe wrong, and it’s the hull next.”

“Aye, Captain…” Lior groaned, rubbing his temple, voice small.

Darius’s gaze sharpened. “This isn’t punishment, lad. It’s survival. The sea doesn’t care if you’re hungover — it’ll swallow you whole, same as the rest of us.”

Kael stayed silent, eyes locked on the horizon where dark clouds mirrored the turmoil in his mind. When Darius finally turned toward him, the wind caught Kael’s coat, and the moment stretched — unspoken, tense, like the pause before a cannon fires.

“Kael,” Darius said finally. “Come with me.”

“To the cabin?” Kael raised an eyebrow, a faint curl of amusement tugging at his lips.

“Some words are better said where no one’s eavesdropping,” Darius replied, voice low and deliberate. Kael followed, each step echoing softly on the creaking floorboards. The familiar scent of salt and old timber hung heavy, grounding him as he descended below deck.

Inside, Darius stood near his desk, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp as harpoons.

“You handled yourself well last night,” the captain said.

“Didn’t feel like it,” Kael replied evenly, voice low, eyes steady.

Darius smirked faintly. “Lior’s a fool when drunk. You didn’t take the bait. That tells me… you think before you strike.” His tone was calm, but the eyes were keen, cutting through the air like steel. “Not a skill you pick up as a deckhand.”

Kael said nothing. Silence stretched between them, filled only by the creak of the ship and the slow, steady beat of the waves beyond the hull.

“You’ve got the look of someone trained — soldier, maybe. Or worse. Yet you fall out of the sea with no name, no past, and a talent for keeping your blade just out of sight.” Darius paused, letting the words hang in the air like storm clouds. “Tell me, Kael. Should I be worried?”

Kael’s jaw tightened, voice steady, controlled. “If you were, you wouldn’t have left me alive.”

Darius’s lips curved, almost a smile, but not quite. “True.” He stepped closer, then paused halfway, the air between them thick with unspoken caution. “Remember this — I trust slowly. And if Aria’s judgment of you proves… wrong…” His eyes turned cold, deep as the ocean at midnight. “…I won’t hesitate to correct it.”

Kael inclined his head slightly. “Understood.”

After a final, measured glance, Darius nodded. “Good. You may go.”

Kael slipped out, the soft creak of the cabin door closing like a pistol shot in the quiet.

Meanwhile, Aria groaned awake in her quarters, the pounding of the sea mirrored by the hammering in her skull. Sunlight pierced the curtains, stabbing through the fog in her mind. Her head throbbed, mouth parched, stomach rebelling against last night’s rum-fueled chaos.

She muttered, half-laughing, half-croaking, “Rum… never again.”

Of course, she was lying.

Flashes of the previous night danced behind her eyelids — Lior’s drunken jealousy, shouting, Kael’s calm gaze before everything blurred.

“Damn it…” she whispered. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

Yet somewhere deep inside, a voice suggested not all of it had been the rum’s fault.

Stepping onto the deck, the sea wind whipped her hair into a frenzy. Every crash of the waves sounded like cannon fire in her head.

“Up already,” came a dry, steady voice, laced with amusement.

She flinched. Darius stood near the helm, mug in hand, disturbingly awake, aura of authority unshaken by the early hour.

“Morning, Captain,” she muttered.

“Inside. Now,” he commanded, and she obeyed.

The cabin smelled of salt and old parchment, a grounding scent. Kael was gone; only Darius remained, the faint tug of a grin at the corner of his mouth betraying a hint of amusement.

“You look like the bottle bested you,” he said.

“Fair match,” she groaned, “until the last round.”

“Rum fights dirty, lass. Waits for you to think you’ve won, then hurls you overboard.”

She sank into the chair, stomach churning, fragments of last night flashing — tavern lights, Lior’s jealous roar, Kael’s steady eyes.

“Something on your mind?” Darius asked, voice softer.

“Last night… got a bit out of hand.”

He nodded, swirling his drink, gaze flicking toward her. “Aye. Rum, blades, pride… volatile mix. Kael handled himself well.”

“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “He did.”

“And you,” Darius continued, setting down his mug. “You’re first mate. Don’t forget it. Keep the crew steady. Don’t let them see you falter — not for a man, not for a drink, not for anything.”

Aria looked away, jaw tightening. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted gently. “We all were. You’ll learn.”

Back on deck, the sun climbed, turning the sea to shards of glass. Lior scrubbed, muttering curses, while Kael worked the rigging silently.

Lior’s hands ached from scrubbing the deck, the brine and soap stinging his knuckles, but he barely noticed. His eyes kept drifting, almost against his will, toward Kael, moving along the rigging with effortless precision. Every motion was smooth, controlled — the kind of control Lior would have killed for.

Damn him… Lior muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw. Smooth as the sea on a calm day, and just as untouchable. And Aria… she’s looking at him like he’s some… treasure she found in the waves. Not at me. Not at me.

He spat toward the sea, bitterness biting through the taste of salt and soap. I’ve fought for her, bled for her, and what does he do? He shows up, all calm and quiet, and suddenly she’s… different. She smiles at him. Laughs with him. Doesn’t even glance my way.

Lior’s grip tightened on the brush. It’s not fair. I’m second mate, damn it! I’m supposed to matter. She’s supposed to see me the way I see her. Not… him. Some stranger dragged out of the ocean like he owns the damn world.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the deck beneath him. But his gaze kept flicking back, just long enough to catch Kael’s serene profile, the calm in his eyes, the way he moved as though the sea itself obeyed him. Every glance was a spark, a fire of jealousy and frustration Lior couldn’t snuff out.

I’ll show her. I’ll make her see me first. She’ll know where her loyalty lies… He muttered it more to himself than anyone else, the quiet threat lingering in the morning air as the waves slapped against the hull. Just wait, Kael. Just wait…

Meanwhile, the wind tugged at Kael’s hair, carrying salt and the sharp tang of the sea. Every creak of the rigging, every gust against the sails, reminded him of the world around him — yet it did nothing to quiet the echo of Aria’s smile and the warmth in her eyes that lingered in his thoughts.

Kael’s gaze passed over him without acknowledgment. Lior, the second mate under Aria, could fume in his own way; Kael had no desire to add fuel to that fire. His attention remained on the rigging, on the ropes, on the lingering question of Aria’s gaze and the strange pull it held. Was it really just the rum? Or did she… feel something more? He clenched his jaw but did not seek an answer. Some questions demanded patience, he had learned, and truth often revealed itself in quiet moments, in silence, in watching the tides shift.

He adjusted a line, letting the rope slide through his hands, and let the thought hang unanswered as the anchored ship gently rocked with the tide. Below, Lior continued scrubbing the deck, unaware that Kael paid him no mind, lost instead in a storm of questions and quiet fascination.

Then Darius stepped out of the cabin.

Darius clapped, calling the crew. “Gather ’round!”

The sailors hurried, curious eyes on the folded parchment Darius handed Aria. Not a map — only scribbles, rough sketches, names of ports, half-remembered landmarks, fragments of coordinates. Enough to stir excitement… but still far from the treasure itself.