Waterborne (Wanderlust 3)

Chapter Forty-Nine

When Soren woke up, there was a hazy moment of confusion, where he was sure that everything from the day before had been a dream. It didn't make much sense otherwise.

But then slowly realized that the weight on his left arm didn't feel like Ara. Ara fit himself beside Soren, the same way Journey seemed to melt onto his lap. Ara didn't throw an arm over Soren's chest, or slip a knee between his legs, as if he was trying to climb on top of Soren. Only Tanden did that.

Soren laughed. Delight and surprise and a bit of denial coming out of him all at once.

A heartbeat later, Tanden groaned. "Shh. Stop."

That only made Soren laugh again. "Stop?" He repeated between chuckles. "I love you. I never thought I'd get to say it to you again."

Tanden huffed and rolled onto his back, his head still resting on Soren's left arm. "You're the one who was burned. You should have known I would be all right. I always am."

Soren shifted onto his side. It hurt to stretch out his right arm, but he did so gingerly, and ran his finger down the dots on Tanden's face. "What's this?"

Tanden sighed. He caught Soren's hand and laced their fingers together, before resting their bound hands on his chest. "That's the end of the story. We should probably start at the beginning. And the beginning—" His eyes darted to meet Soren's, "—was you and the Wanderlust."

Thinking about the fire didn't bother Soren as much anymore. Toliver's burning ship had replaced those feelings. So it was with ease that Soren replied, simply, "He cuffed me to the bed."

It took a moment, Tanden's brow furrowed and then his expression lightened. "You were wearing the key."

Soren smiled. "Aye. Still am."

"Sort of useless now, isn't it?" Tanden awkwardly reached across to hook the cord around Soren's neck and pull it free from his tunic. He cupped the key on his hand. "So, this saved your life."

"When the mizzenmast came down, it ripped a hole through the stern," Soren continued. "I grabbed Journey and jumped out. Ara found me on the beach the next day." He paused. The next part of the story bothered him more than the fire did, now, because he still wasn't sure he had done right by their crewmates. "I tried to properly send Povic, Starios and Folti on. You would have known exactly what to do."

"No." Tanden protested, his voice soft and uncharacteristically unsure. "No. Jale told me to say the proper words for you, and I wasn't even sure what they were. I just made it up. I don't know Crelan funerary rites. I'm sorry."

Tanden's cultural expertise had always been oddly lacking in Crelan beliefs. Soren had long ago come to the understanding that because Tanden had immersed himself in Crelan culture so young, he had never approached it as a new culture to study in the same way he had everything since. They had never performed a Crelan funeral on the Wanderlust, either, so when would Tanden have learned? It made sense that he didn't know.

Soren squeezed their bound hands. "It's alright. I'll teach you."

Tanden laughed weakly. "And I'll hope that I never have to use that knowledge." He paused, then, "Jale saved me. Toliver had her thrown overboard and I jumped after her, so I saved her, but afterwards... I felt... I wasn't myself. I still don't feel like myself. She took care of me, but she also needed me, and I think without her I would have given up."

He seemed so despondent. Tanden had spent his adult life on the move. An unstoppable, unflappable, captain. Someone who always knew what to do next. Soren had seen through the act ages ago, but he still understood how hard it was for Tanden to admit that he had struggled.