Sailing, Learning, Finding (1/4)

The next morning, we ate breakfast and bathed again before returning to the beach. It had been my first time in the forest again since I witnessed the scaled beast. Its monstrous strength that existed only in fiction. But I had felt safer with Aestos lingering beside me and us in the center of the king's men.

We had not encountered any more monsters, but we saw the disasters they'd left. Split open trees, smashed carcasses that reeked of a rotten and sweet smell, and colossal craters. The earth around them crumbled, and Aestos had saved me from falling in one. 

On the ocean, a tall ship glided across smooth waves and pushed onto the shore of the beach. A cargo ship, I had been told, with vast sails I had only read about. I clutched the leather strap over my chest, inclined to hold my lyre closer to me. I was in awe, and mildly afraid. I had never seen a boat so big.

As Aestos had requested, we received the ship and a crew of thirty men with a month's worth of provisions. Although we would not take that long. The crew began loading supplies onto the ship, and I did not think to help until a man placed a heavy crate into my hands.

It had caught me off guard, and the wood split the skin in my palms. I grimaced and carried three into the gritty second level of the sturdy structure. I returned to the beach, sticky with sweat and my hands grainy from wood. Another crate was given to me. I groaned miserably.

Aestos noticed me from the water, where he rinsed powder from his hands. Quickly, he came to remove the burden from me. Water dripped from the soaked ends of his hair. He did not notice it. Nor how the book tucked into the belt around his waist had also been touched by the ocean. I did hope whatever lay inside had not been ruined.

"Are you unfamiliar with labor?" he asked me. It would have been offensive coming from anyone else, but I knew he had not meant to attack me.

And I could not be offended by the truth.

"Yes," I answered. "When I was still a prince, I had indulged too much in my own interests and left the heavy work to others."

Aestos accepted the fact and began to carry my load. I stopped him.

"That does not mean I am unwilling to change," I stated.

I took the crate from his hands and carried this one onto the deck. I noticed another pain in my palm besides the dryness and split skin. A thick piece of wood lodged beneath my skin. I had gotten similar injuries while sanding a new lyre to smooth.

Aestos made it look easy, the heavy crate he set upon the one I had delivered. He turned to me. Dropped his eyes to my hand.

"What's wrong?"

I huffed. "Nothing. I only injured my hand a bit."

He stole my wrist quickly, concern designing his new expression. Sometimes, I did not think he was capable of more than his curiosity or apathy. Then I remembered now, his furrowed brows, and his quiet smiles from yesterday. There were other emotions to him. Many emotions. They only needed to be encouraged.

With blunt nails, Aestos dug into my palm.

I winced. "What are you doing, friend?"

"Defending you." Aestos pulled the splinter from my skin and watched the dot of blood form. He pressed his thumb to it and looked at me. "If the work is too difficult for you, say something."

"I'm a man like the rest of you."

"You have been pampered all your life. Naturally, some things would be difficult for you."

I could not help but grin at his frankness. "Anyone else would have taken offense to that statement just now." He frowned, and I quickly amended, "But not me. Stay honest with me, Aestos. I am grateful for it."

He only gazed at me, and the boat filled quickly with the rest of the crew. A few physicians. Soldiers. And a captain who would be directing them. Men who had been eager to set sail in the early morning quieted their vigor in Aestos' presence. Now, I was grateful it was not Aestos' duty to guide them.

The captain was older than me by at least ten years. Cropped blonde hair, spiky like the prickly edges of hay that had been snapped in half, and a pink scar that crossed from his left temple to his chin. He stood next to Aestos and me, speaking above the incoming wind we would soon rely on for movement. The crew did not look at him as he spoke. Too afraid to accidentally encounter Aestos' gaze.

But they acknowledged the announcements Aestos contributed when the captain finished. Rescue anyone we encounter. Women and children should come first. So, they respected him, too. As you would a god.

The ship left the beach, and I marveled at how this structure could remain steady on an eager sea. The captain turned to us with the countenance of someone hardened by life. My eyes brushed over his scar, but I did not dare pity him. I could not decide from a scar alone that life had been cruel to him. 

He looked at Aestos frankly. In his eyes, holding them a moment before seeing me.

"My name is Nikolas," he said. "If you should need anything, come to me directly." He left for the front of the ship before I could thank him.

I went to lean against the ship's rail and study the water. If it had not tormented me, I might have still thought it was beautiful. But I did not think I could ever love the ocean again. My fingers tapped the wood. An incessant, busy tune. An uncomfortable buzz surged beneath my skin, and it could only be soothed through movement.

Aestos joined me at the rail, keeping a stranger's space between us.

"You are anxious," he said. I was learning how perceptive he was.

"Yes. We are on the very waters that stole my sister and home from me."

He looked over at me, but I did not offer my gaze. My eyes were damp, and I did not wish to cry in front of him. That, he might not understand. That, he might judge me for.

"What might a friend do to help you?" Aestos asked.

Surprised again by his compassion, I did look at him. His gaze held mine with intent, and noticed the small leak beneath my eye.

"Hold my hand," I suggested. Quietly. And I wondered if he would.

But Aestos did not hesitate to set his hand upon mine. His fingers curled around my palm, and I accepted the touch with greed, setting my hand over so our palms brushed. The buzzing beneath my skin ceased immediately. I huffed a please laugh and watched him observe the water. At least he seemed to enjoy it. He appeared content looking upon the vast, unwavering color. It wondered me.

"Does the ocean inspire you?" He looked over at me. "For your poems," I clarified.

A smile stole his lips when he captured the sea again. "Yes. It does."

I grinned, my mood lifting. "I hope one day you might let me read them. I'm sure they are wonderful."

"There is nothing to read when I have nothing written," he stated.

"You do not write poems in that journal you are carrying?"

"I cannot read or write. I was never taught how." He glanced at me. "So, no."

He'd simply stated it as the truth it was, unashamed by it, and I did not think he knew how to be embarrassed. He must not know the only destiny for a man who could neither read nor write was servitude to another man.

"Then where do you store these poems you spoke of?"

He tapped his temple once. "They are in here."

I again marveled at him. So consumed and tickled with fascination that I could soar with the fire burning in my feet. "How can you speak so well?" Reading was essential for knowledge. For further development in speech. How had he managed without it?

"I lived in the city until I was fifteen and was taught simple phrases and words," he began. "The women who raised me believed there was not much use for me to learn speech. I could answer their prayers with acts alone. So, everything else I had needed to learn on my own, from what my ears picked up while I resided outside the gates. The people in the city are intelligent, so it helped me."

How unfortunate, that he'd had to learn something as essential as speech alone. Because what human proposed to a god to teach them? But Aestos had only been a boy. And now a man.

"One of your poems," I ventured. "Will you share it with me?" I knew he could create outstanding things. I did not want him to think, even for a second, that I would underestimate the capabilities of his mind.

Aestos' cheeks turned in color. Pale skin saturating with pink emotion. He directed his eyes swiftly from me. So, you know embarrassment. Nervousness. Bashfulness. They only needed to be encouraged. It delighted me to see him this way. I was determined to learn which things deepened the color of his face like this.

"I am sure whatever I create could never compare to one of your songs," he offered quietly.

"Let me be the judge of that, friend."

His eyes were meek against mine. Gloriously soft and innocent. I wanted to capture his expression in a song so the world could know the burning affection I was beginning to feel for him.

For a while, Aestos only gazed at me. Again, searching for courage. He seemed to find it in my hand, and he squeezed three short pulses before saying, "From the blue sea emerges blue eyes. When they greet me, I notice my heart in my chest for—"

"The first time," I finished for him. Paralyzed with awe.

He nodded once, cheeks stained beautifully. "Yes."

"That poem is about me, isn't it?"

Aestos sought the comfort of our connected hands. Staring at them. "Does it bother you?"

"No," I whispered. I was only disappointed he had not offered me something longer. I had fallen too quickly in love with the rhythm he could create. "It is so wonderful I might cry. I have never had someone speak so beautifully of me."

"If it brings you to tears, it cannot possibly be wonderful. I understand that much."

I smiled softly. Leaned into him until our arms brushed. "There is such a thing as joyful tears, Aestos."

I pulled his journal from his belt and took the pencil folded in it. I leaned against the railing and wrote his words. Aestos squeezed next to me, fascinated with how my hand moved.

"This is your poem," I told him. "I will teach you every letter of it. How to read and write it."

Color flourished along his skin. "For something in return."

"No." I returned his book to him. "We are friends. We give and take without keeping score. This, I will do for free." I paused and grinned. "I suppose I should teach you how to write your name first."

Aestos smiled softly. "I suppose."