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Inej wished she could say she didn't mind the blindfold, but it would be a lie.
It was tied too tight around her head, and with her hands bound there was not much she could do about it. But she willed her panic away – kept it at bay, at least. In the last few months, she had thought the sea as a friend. But today, its lull was no comfort; it reminded her too much of the weeks in the very first ship she had boarded. Dreadful memories of foreign hands taking too much pleasure in rendering her utterly helpless washed over her as the rope around her wrists dig deeper into her skin. The same rope she had carefully inspected this very morning.
A hand fell on her shoulder, and she did her best not to flinch. She was the Wraith, captain of this ship, not a frightened fourteen-year-old, not who she had once been. She kept her head high.
“Saints all above,” whistled a man. “Looks like we got ourselves quite the prize, eh!”
Saints had nothing to do in this man's foul mouth. The hand brushed her braid, and this time she shivered. Next to her, she could feel Anela squirm. These men had waited for the right time to attack: most of the crew was on land getting food and supplies. They had only been half a dozen on the ship when daggers had been drawn and screams had started tearing the peaceful morning.
She should have seen it coming. Truth was, she had dropped her guard, too absorbed by the map on her desk.
“You can choose, Cap'ain,” the man murmured to her. “Should we wait for the rest of your crew? Or should we take all of you and leave?”
If she had been alone, she'd choose the second option. A muffled cry on her left made sure she did not forget that. There were five others, five girls and women she had found on various ships in the last few weeks. Five girls and women she had promised would go back home.
They could wait for the rest of the crew, but what would happen to them? They would get caught by surprise. Someone could get hurt, or worse. They were her responsibility. She had sworn to protect them.
But there was something else. A hunger in the man's voice she had learned to recognize. It was the same that had shimmered in the eyes of all these men back at the Menagerie. Instinctually, she pressed herself against Anela.
If they were taken now, there was not much left to the imagination as to what would happen to them. But if they waited for the crew, what would they do to them in the meantime?
“So, Wraith,” started the man, and Saints all above, Inej had never thought she'd hear her name be pronounced with such condescendence. “What's it gonna be?”
Her heartbeat was choking her, realization coiling around her lungs. She, the girl who had survived everything, who had learned to slip into the smallest of spaces, whose name alone sent shivers down grown men's disgusting spines, was stuck.
She could reach the blade hidden at her hip, if she were certain the man was not watching her closely. But there was no way to know, not with this blindfold.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She had no answer, no solution, no trick up her sleeve.
The hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her to the floor. Her instincts kicked in, and she let herself fall to her side so her head wouldn't hit the planks.
“Let's take her,” suggested another voice. “I bet the others are useless without their captain. All girls lookin' like they're about to break.”
“Are you fucking stupid? The more we have, the better. We can get a good price on some of them. The rest we can keep for fun.”
Anger washed over Inej, but before she could do anything about it a weight pinned her legs down. In a matter of seconds, the man was strapping her thighs with his knees, his hands pressed on her collar bones. She tried to hit him with her knees, to get out of his grip, but to no avail. Once again, she was a fourteen years old girl about to lose everything. She could cry, but tears had never freed her. Something tickled her cheek, and stilled when she understood it was a beard.
“Look at you,” whispered the man too close to her ear. “You’re too weak to save anyone, not even yourself. What are you gonna do, Wraith?”
Without a warning, he clenched her clothes and violently flipped her on her stomach. One of the girls in the corner squealed in fear. Inej gritted her teeth and tried to think, but her brain was foggy. She was supposed to know what to do. She was supposed to be a threat, a killer, a Crow. She could not even begin to imagine how scared those girls and women must be, and she knew seeing the so-called captain being thrown around like a ragdoll did not help.
“Give me a knife! I want my prize!”
Once again, Inej tried to wriggle out of the man's grip. She could feel Sankta Lizabeta's rose-engraved handle press against her skin above her belt. If only she could just…
A yelp was torn out of her throat as the man harshly pulled on her hair. She heard something being cut, and the air was knocked out of her.
Her hair. He was cutting her hair.
The weight on her slightly lifted and cheers filled the hull of the ship. Without missing a beat, Inej snatched her blade out of its hiding spot and cut her ties as fast as possible. Still blind, she reached for the man's thigh and plunged her knife deep into it.
He screamed, pure music to her ears, and she used both her hands to propulse herself off the floor, taking the man with her. She ripped the blindfold out of her face just in time to see him topple on the ground. Around her, the other men were frozen, their mouth opened in true fish fashion. They all seemed to snap out of it the second they saw the blood, but Inej was faster. In a second, she retrieved her blade and threw it straight at another man's chest. She grabbed Sankt Vladimir in her boot and cut a man's throat in one swirl. Someone roared, and a blade was drawn, but she slid to the floor and trapped her assailant's legs with her own. Taken by surprise, he fell heavily, dust rising around him. She lost no time in dragging her blade across his chest.
She was suddenly shoved against the wall and her head hit the hard hull. Ears ringing, she whipped around just in time to dodge a fist coming right for her face. She gripped the man's arm and twisted it harshly, nails digging as deeply as possible into his flesh. He fell to his knees, and she raised her knife.
“Please,” begged the man.
She had long since learned to save her mercy for those who deserved it. Blood splattered the floor.
The air stilled. Her eyes scanned the room, only to find no man left standing. They all lay in a pool of their own blood, including two she knew she hadn't fought. The look on Maria and Anela's face and the blood on their now untied hands told her everything she needed to know. She gave them a single understanding nod, hoping compassion shone in her eyes. These women had already gone through horrific things. She knew this was going to add to the list. She herself sometimes woke up from blood-filled nightmares, even after years of spilling it. They were all going to have to hold each other a little more tightly tonight.
But something else caught her eye. Something in the fist of the man who had held her down. A dark braid. Her braid.
She reached for her hair, starting from the top, then slowly, oh, so slowly, started combing through them. After only a few short seconds, her fingers met air and her eyes filled with tears. More than half her length was gone.
It was stupid. It was hair. They could have lost their life, or worse. But the tears streamed down her cheeks regardless, tracing clear paths over the splashes of fresh blood on her face.
She stood there for what felt like ages, turning her back to the group of women so they would not see her. After a while, she heard footsteps behind her.
“Inej?” said Anela timidly. “Can I… Can I hug you?”
Inej was so surprised by the request she turned around. The girl's hazel eyes were big, full of worry, and all Inej could do was nod. The girl carefully wrapped her arms around her and Inej closed her eyes as more tears spilled.
“You saved us,” whispered Anela. “Again.”
A gentle hand brushed past her shoulder, and Inej opened her eyes. Maria, Irene, Rozi and Glara were all standing close, free of their bonds. Only one look at each other answered the silent question they were asking, and soon all of them wrapped her in a warm embrace. Irene, who could have been Inej's mother, softly caressed the back of her head, fingers brushing through her hair, and Inej's tears redoubled.
One night, in Ketterdam, Wylan had come to her and told her something he had learned, something about how by seven years every single one of your cells were regenerated. He had confessed he was sad his body was now one his mother had never held, and Inej could only share the sentiment. She found solace in the thought of her current body being one no one had touched, but it also meant this cheek had never knew her mother's lips, and this hand her father's loving grip. Hair held memories too, and when on her first night at the Slat, she had eyed the scissors and the crooked mirror in her room and had decided against it. Her hair had been the one her mother had lovely combed, the one she had learned to braid on long winter nights, the one she had inherited from her grandmother. It was a part of home, maybe the only one left.
And now it was gone.
She still had hair, sure, but all of it had grown during her time in Ketterdam. None of it had known the smell of the fire her family lit as they shared a meal, or the soft fabric of her embroidered pillow.
The rest of the crew found them like that, on their knees, holding on each other, in the middle of what looked like a proper massacre. They did not ask question, only wrapped them in thick blankets and sat them at a table, served them food. Eventually, they told them everything, Inej quiet the entire time, hand absentmindedly running through her hair. Maria must have noticed the lost look in her dark eyes, because afterward, before going to bed, she asked her to sit down with her for a bit. Too weary to argue, Inej did. Constellations stretched above them, while the sea gently rocked under their feet.
“I've had short hair for the best part of my life,” said Maria. “Would you like me to teach you some hairstyles?”
Inej did not know what she expected, but that was not that. She thought about it for a second, then nodded.
Maria's hands were calloused, but gentle, and her voice was soft as she explained the best way to keep hair out of her face. Inej followed her instructions, focused, as she had once listened to her mother's advice and her grandmother's playful commands. Her fingers found the strands, twisted them, braided what they could. When they were done, Inej looked at Maria.
“How do I look?” she asked, not sure she wanted an answer.
A smile stretched Maria's parched lips. A real one; one that shone in her soft brown eyes.
“Like the strong, capable girl you are. Our captain.”
Inej's heart bloomed under her heavy coat. She could have said beautiful, but she knew beauty was nothing women lacked and not what would save them.
“Thank you for teaching me,” she breathed.
“Thank you for saving me,” echoed Maria, her hand on Inej's arm as if to convey the message better. “For saving all of us.”
All Inej could do was give a sympathetic nod. There was so much she wished she could say, she wished she knew how to say, but she was too exhausted. Maria must have understood nonetheless, because she gave her arm a maternal squeeze, rose to her feet, and extended a helping hand to Inej.
“Let's go to bed, shall we? Today has been long enough.”
Inej took her hand and got on her feet. They walked together until they had to part way. They wished each other good night and Inej headed to her cabin. When she closed the door behind her, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
Maria was right. She looked strong. Capable. Deadly.
And as she climbed in her hammock, the blood-stained images that flickered behind her eyes were quick to be replaced by Anela's loving embrace, by the blanket Marko had carefully wrapped around her shoulder, by Maria gentle hands in her hair.
Not her mother, not her father, but something else than the cold brutality of Ketterdam. She thought of the letter on her desk, of Jesper suggesting she could spend some time at the mansion, of Wylan telling her months ago he'd love to relearn how to braid, of Kaz's words about a farm, of what Nina will say about her new look.
She fell asleep more easily than she would have thought.