She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yes, yes, I know. The same as yesterday, and the day before that.” She pulled her arm free with exaggerated effort. “I’ve heard it a million times now. You know I’ll keep him safe. But you might want to be a bit less obvious about your… concern. People are starting to talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do you mean? People aren’t blind, Reaper! You’ve been following him like a shadow. And it’s not going to be long until they notice he’s somehow not in his hammock every single morning. Plus, it doesn’t help that Ghost practically drools whenever you walk by.”
A tiny groan escaped me. “How bad is it?”
“I’ve been doing damage control. I’ve been telling everyone that him and Willy are totally a thing.”
Resisting the urge to tell Ariella that Willy was probably devastated by that lie—because Ireallydidn’t have time for crew romance gossip today—I released her, trailing out of the galley behind her.
A knot of crew members stood huddled near the mainmast—Butcher among them. The moment they spotted me, their conversation died.
Kaspar, still seated with Willy, had his head thrown back in laughter. His eyes sought mine with that familiar warmth that had become my anchor.
I forced my gaze forward, jaw clenched, and marched past without acknowledging him, a knife twisting in my gut.
The morning crawled by in agonizing slowness. I threw myself into work, helping Patty inspect the cannons along the port side.
When we finished, I climbed to the observation deck, leaning against the railing to stare out at the endless expanse of clouds. The wind whipped around me, carrying the scent of rain and open sky. Usually, this view calmed me—the vastness making my problems seem small and manageable. Today, it only emphasized how trapped I felt.
A sharp tug on my pant leg pulled me from my thoughts. I looked down to find Sprocket, the vexling’s amber eyes glowing with urgency. They cocked their head to one side, ears twitching, then scurried toward the hatch leading below deck.
“What is it?” I asked, following as they led me down ladders and through narrow passageways until we reached the engine room.
The heat hit me first—always several degrees warmer here than anywhere else on the ship. Mad Murray stood hunched over his workbench, grease-stained hands tinkering with some contraption.
“You wanted me?” I asked.
Murray looked up, his face grim beneath his wild, soot-streaked beard. “Aye. Got some bad news, Reaper.” He wiped his hands on a rag that might have once been white. “Viper just came to see me.”
My blood ran ice cold.
Murray sighed, running a hand through his wild hair. “I’ve been doing what we agreed—making up technical problems, telling him the rig needs recalibration, that the flux conduits aren’t aligned properly.” He tossed a wrench onto his workbench with a clatter. “Told him yesterday the energy transfer matrix was showing microfractures that needed reinforcing. Day before that, I claimed the primary extraction nodes were misaligned.”
“And he believed all that?”
“Until this morning.” Murray’s shoulders slumped. “Viper lost his patience. Stormed in here ranting. Said it couldn’t possibly be that complicated to build a simple extraction rig.”
I gripped the edge of the workbench, my knuckles turning white. “What happened?”
“He pushed me aside, took one look at the setup, and declared it ready for use.” Murray shook his head. “The man knows as much about flux engineering as a sea serpent knows about needlepoint, but try telling him that.”
“But what about our plan to persuade Viper that if we rush this and fry Ghost, we’ve lost him? For good.”
Murray shrugged helplessly. “You know what Viper’s like. Once he’s decided he’s right, there’s no use arguing. Might as well try to convince a hurricane to blow in another direction.”
Though the winds were steady, the ship seemed to tilt beneath my feet. “So what does this mean? When does he want to plug him in?”
“I think you better go find out.”
I wasted no time racing up both ladders and across the deck. At Viper’s door, I paused, bracing one hand against the frame to catch my breath. My fingers traced the intricate carvings—dragons coiled around each other, their tails forming an endless knot. The wood felt smooth beneath my touch, polished by years of nervous hands just like mine.
My fingers flexed at my sides as I drew in a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation ahead. This wouldn’t be easy. Viper was volatile on his best days, and lately, his moods had been as unpredictable as storm winds. Never before had so much hinged on a single conversation with him—not just my future, but Kas’s very life balanced on whatever words I could summon.
I squared my shoulders, adjusted my stance to minimize the pressure on my prosthetic, and knocked three times before entering.
Viper was hunched over his desk, maps and papers sprawled across its surface. The golden afternoon light streaming through the window caught on his hat, casting long shadows across his face.
