Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

had, and that he’d have enjoyed her company as much as Dooley’s. “Are you sweet on me, Mr. Kentewess?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Then whatever Mary said means nothing. Did she say more?”
    Goddamn him for wanting to know. This shouldn’t matter. It did. “She said that you ought to rethink your interest in me, because I’m horrid.”
    “You’re horrid?” She stopped at the foot of a ladder. “What have you supposedly done?”
    “I look horrid, rather. My face is melted and my hand is gone.”
    “Ah.” She frowned. “That was rather horrid of her to say, wasn’t it? That won’t stand. I’ll give her a talking-to.”
    Blast it all. While fishing for her reaction, he’d caught one he hadn’t intended.
    “That wasn’t to tattle,” he said. In the wardroom, he’d told Annika he’d never felt stupid. He did now.
    “She won’t know who it came from, Mr. Kentewess. By tomorrow morning, she’ll have said the same to everyone.” She studied his face for a long second. “Why would she say melted? It doesn’t even look burned. Nothing like this.”
    Twisting around, she pulled up her shawl and showed him the back of her right arm, from the elbow to just below her shoulder. The ridged scar there was paler than the rest of her skin, mottled with pink.
    “What happened?”
    “I backed up against a furnace.” She tugged down the wool again. “My mother always told me that someone with no scars was either very lucky or hadn’t ever had to work very hard. This wasn’t from working hard, but from daydreaming when I should have been. I learned a bit of a lesson, too.”
    “So you weren’t lucky.”
    “No. My mother wasn’t, either. She lost four toes to the ice one winter. Another girl I know had her nose torn away by a wild dog.” She paused, her expression thoughtful. A small crease formed between her brows. “It could be said that she was very lucky, I suppose. The result might have been worse.”
    “Then I’m either unlucky or incredibly lucky, depending on how you look at it.” He preferred to think he was lucky.
    “Yes. And sometimes, I think it’s not about luck at all; you lift your face to say a prayer to the gods, and the answer they give is a bird shitting in your eyes.” She pursed her mouth, watching him. “What is it?”
    David shook his head, unable to describe the ecstatic leap of his heart. In his life, he’d only heard one other person use that expression. His mother, whenever something unlucky had happened, would say that a bird had shit in her eye—that the gods had answered a prayer, but that the answer wasn’t one anyone would like.
    Finally he said, “I’m fortunate, then, that one of my eyes is always covered.”
    “Yes.” She laughed suddenly, glancing at his eyepiece. Few people looked without staring—or without pretending that it didn’t exist at all, looking everywhere but his prosthetics or his scars. She didn’t do either. Her gaze moved to his cheek again. “Whatever Mary thinks, it’s obviously not melted. Mostly, it looks like someone shoved your face against a rotary sharpener. Or you lost a tangle with a wolf.”
    “If I’m alive, I must have won that tangle.”
    She grinned. “Yes. So Mary doesn’t think you’re handsome?”
    “Horrid, yes.” David had to agree.
    “And she’s not any judge. In port, she once pointed out a man to me who she thought was handsome—and the moment I saw him, I looked for the nearest tree to climb, thinking that I’d just seen a bear.” She preceded him up the ladder. By the time David reached the top, where she stood waiting, he was sweet on her. “I’ve never been able to determine what ‘handsome’ means. You aren’t as hairy as most men. I think that’s lovely. So that must be how I determine it.”
    He’d accept that, especially since she didn’t seem to be strokinghim on, hoping to spare his feelings. His gaze dropped to her smiling mouth. Perhaps this journey wouldn’t only last a week. After she knew where he was headed, why he was headed there, she might want to join him.
    “My aunt tells me that you’ve searched for your sister four years now,” he said. “Do you miss home?”
    She didn’t need to answer; the wistful expression softening her eyes told him. She looked away, toward the companionway leading to the main deck. Faint lamplight spilled through the open hatch to the wet boards. With a sigh, she pulled the orange scarf over her hair.
    “It looks like we haven’t yet