Elora Van Eck | Kaz Brekker

TWENTY-TWO | ON THE HIGH SEAS

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  j e s p e r

ON THE BOAT, the mood was a whirlwind of all negative emotions. The sun was already on the horizon, but it did not confer warmth. The cool air studded everyone's skin with chill bumps.

Jesper sat on the deck and swung his revolver around, opened the cylinder, removed the ammunition, then reinserted it and closed the cylinder anew. His gaze drifted over the people aboard periodically, but he would not admit to himself that his eyes yearned to focus on one particular individual.

Wylan stumbled awkwardly across the deck of the bopping boat. The airflow awoke the waves, feeding them to grow, and even for seasoned seafarers, moving securely under those conditions would be a struggle.

Jesper did not notice the toothy smile on his own lips until Wylan's attention turned to the Zemini and he walked gingerly towards him. Jesper spoke not a word with his throat, solely using his eyes, as Wylan settled beside him with an unsteady plop.

Wylan closed his eyes and reveled in the security of the boat's wall, the timber of which pressed into his back, preventing him from swaying and stumbling.

Jesper's gaze did not stray from the boy whose trust he had exhausted. If he had ever gained it at all. The toothy grin on his face had moments before tumbled into the billowing waves and instead, straightforwardness clung to his dark brows.

"I'm truly sorry," Jesper cried abruptly. Wylan's eyes popped open; his giddiness forgotten. "For being so rough with you, I mean. I'm confident you didn't mean it the way I interpreted it."

Wylan's eyes darted over the sharp shooter's delicate face, but he knew not to speak, recognizing that his muteness was suitable at the given moment. He then listened attentively as Jesper continued to speak. "It is-" he stammered, "it is demeaning to face the truth." His eyes met Wylan's, and he could see the confusion in them. He sighed and squinted his eyes as if he needed to force himself to proceed with his elaboration. "I've always fantasized about my future profession. I had intended to open a flower shop." He chuckled sweetly and shook his head as if the dream were a ludicrous fairy tale. "Each day, I worked in the garden with my father. My expertise in plants is indeed vast. Not that it would do me any good as a full-time criminal. But when my mum-"

Wylan placed a gentle hand on Jesper's shoulder.

"My mother is gone, my father heartbroken. The money dwindled, and I had to leave too, figure something out. I was young at the time. Too young to realize my vision. And instead, I had to find a way to survive on my own." With his thumbnail, he nibbled at the handle of his revolver. "I was young, novice, and now a criminal. No one would trust a criminal."

"I trust you," Wylan eventually blurted out, but Jesper plainly shook his head. "No, you don't," he said quietly. "And I shouldn't blame you for that. Still, I struggle to accept that I am indeed a lawbreaker. And that my kindness is insufficient to make someone I care about notice that little boy who simply needed to survive."

Wylan's heart halted banging. Even though the merchling was not wholly clueless, hearing the words directly from Jesper's lips gob-smacked him.

Jesper proceeded, clearing his throat, "I was always thought to be trustworthy. By my parents, the neighbors, and the farmers, who knew that I would bring the money for the eggs over later if I had too little on me. In Ketterdam, however, I am just a criminal Zemini with a knack for firearms. And I believed a few polite gestures would conceal all this. I fooled myself, that is not your fault. You have all reason to be wary of me. So, I apologize for having become so upset, Wylan."