Voyage of the Damned

by Frances White

For everyone who has ever entered a room and felt they did not belong.

My father always says: ‘You can’t run from your responsibilities,’ but he lacks imagination. Besides, I’m not running. I’m sidestepping. Crossing the road so me and my responsibilities don’t make eye contact and aren’t forced into awkward small talk both of us know isn’t going anywhere.

Every time I see Ravi he looks better than the last. But in this room, at this moment, he’s so beautiful it makes my soul ache.

A twitch of a smile. ‘And that’s why you’re wrong. The hero isn’t the dragon. The hero is the fish.’ My arms drop. ‘The fish?’ ‘The fish did not have to share the burden. The fish could have survived without it. But it sacrificed itself because it saw the suffering of others. The world would have been doomed without the fish.’ She holds my gaze, her expression utterly serious. And in that moment, I am, for once, speechless.

‘Back home we speak what’s in our hearts,’ she says—which is lovely. And then: ‘Because any day a tree can fall and crush your skull.’

His smiles were so rare, it felt like witnessing an eclipse. A place where the sun and moon meet.

‘You see the world in a way nobody else does. You’re better than all of them.’ He rested his forehead against mine, fingers knotting in my tousled hair. ‘Because you don’t need a Blessing to be a miracle.’

My heart swells. That’s a good way to categorize the world—to eat or to love. Although sometimes things can be both. I smirk.

He doesn’t even understand I’m being sarcastic. That putting an emaciated, blinded human in a ring to be sacrificed is horrific beyond measure. That that person could be any of us, if not for the luck of being born one side of a wall.

I laugh dryly. Bottom feeder is supposed to be an insult, but I do like bottoms and food, so I don’t entirely hate it. Plus, hearing Leofric say ‘bottom’ is worth it.

I hadn’t realized that loyalty did not just mean sending fish and saying prayers. Loyalty also meant hate. Indiscriminate, unquestioning hate.

He called me Dee. Then I realize what that pang was. I’ve felt it before. Once. Only once. Oh, shitting fishcakes. I’m in love with him. I love Wyatt. He hasn’t moved. I could count his freckles from here. I want to count his freckles. ‘Ganymedes?’ I chance a glance into his eyes. Yup. There’s that pang again. Inevitable, terrible—and wonderful. Love. ‘You can call me Dee.’ His face beams with a smile and, predictably, I love that too.

He touches my arm. Those damn eyes are upon me. Who knew devastation came in hazel?

I don’t discriminate based on appearance, but there’s something about skinny men that makes my heart flip. Muscles mean they can throw me across the room if I say something stupid. Which is often.

I usually prefer soft men but there’s something about Wyatt becoming protective that makes me want to tear off his clothes and ravish him right here.

As Wyatt gazes down at me, the sun moves behind him, filtering through the willow’s leaves and accenting him in gold. Then my world is him. The awkward smile softening his sharp features. The blue bloom against the mahogany shine of his hair. You are beautiful, I want to say. And I don’t think anyone has ever told you that you’re so much more than just a Blessing to pass on.

He cups my chin, drinking me in, as if I’m something to be marvelled at. Me. In a greenhouse bursting with the natural wonders of Concordia, he’s looking at me.

‘Dee, I don’t want to rush you.’ His thumb brushes my inner wrist. ‘We’ll take things at your pace. As slow as you like.’ My heart thumps in my throat. ‘Thanks.’ ‘But have some mercy and don’t look at me like that unless you plan to do something about it.’ Holy shit.

Blessed fishcakes. I love him. I love the wild way his hair sits. I love the strip of freckles across his nose. Most of all, I love the way he looks at me—as if I’m that beautiful sunset, and if he glances away, even for a second, I’ll vanish behind the horizon.

‘Boring?’ I’m many things—possible narcissist, possible anxiety-ridden mess who uses humour to hide his insecurities, but boring? Ganymedes Piscero?

His eyes drink me in, in that dangerous way. Then he pokes two fingers into my cheeks. ‘You have dimples. Did you know?’ ‘N-No.’ ‘Smile again.’ I do so, feeling strangely exposed. His eyes light up, like an artist studying brushstrokes. ‘They’re like a gift your smile gives me.’

‘Words are born in my head, then escape from my mouth!’

‘You’re playing with people’s emotions.’ ‘They’re the best things to play with,’ they say matter-of-factly. ‘Emotions cause people to lose control, to lose perspective.’

‘Yes. They were a fool to underestimate Tendai because of her inability to walk. As if the restrictive shell of a body is more important than the infinite possibilities of a mind.’

‘I knew they would never respect me. But they could fear me. A man can fight a tiger, but he cannot fight a shadow. He cannot fight a dark rumour that takes root. You call me a coward because I whisper from the darkness instead of wielding a sword? My whispers saved my province.’

Why is it that I want women to beat me up and men to gently embrace me?

‘Heart-bonded people shouldn’t be apart. Your hearts are meant to be together. Or they’ll get sad, and break.’

‘You don’t need a Blessing to be a miracle.’

Heat floods my body. This boy. There’s nobody like him in the entire world. I want to strangle and embrace him at the same time.

She’s cutting off the weak to save the strong. No, not even that. Cutting off the poor to save the rich.

But real healing doesn’t come from power. It’s the other way round. I didn’t find my Blessing until I was ready to fight. To survive. To live.

I reach for him. What a remarkable thing—that two hands can fit so perfectly together. It is, I think, the most remarkable thing I’ve experienced today.

I brush the hair from his face, map his features with my fingers—cheekbones, nose, lips. Every part more fascinating than the Blessing coursing through my veins.

‘You are the only worthwhile thing in my life,’ he breathes. ‘The only thing, Dee.’

He brings my hand to his lips. ‘I can’t wait to see what your world will look like.’

I’m his. Utterly his. The final wall around my heart crumbles and his love fills the untouched space behind.