Before long, they start scattering. The rush to escape is almost tangible, a herd sensing a predator. Not that I blame them. Because Roche? Yeah, Roche is a terrifying son of a bitch.
The idea of him catching wind of me, knowing I’m here with Gypsy—it makes my skin crawl. Will he make a target of her? No doubt. Question is, how soon. But she can’t be at the top of his list. Not while I’m here.
I’d rather he come straight at me, anyway. I’m the one who betrayed him. First by leaving, now by stirring up the sort of rumors that tarnish his precious reputation. If he’s got a score to settle, I’m right here.
The pirates are gone, and the immediate threat with them. But the silence they leave? It’s the kind that sinks into your bones, like the stillness before a storm. You’d almost rather have the noise.
I glance over at Fabien, heat simmering under my skin. “Get your damn ecosystem, or whatever you call it, sorted out,” I snap. “We need to move.”
He nods slowly, wiping his blade clean.
32
Fabien
Ridley’s already waiting aboard when we return, his gaze flicking to the blood smeared across my clothes. The metallic stench of copper hangs thick around me. The others are bloodied too—just not like me.
“Trouble?” Ridley asks, one brow lifting as he sizes me up.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I reply, without sparing him a glance. My eyes are locked on a distant point as I brush past, setting my new jar—a quite big world of soil, grass, rocks, even a small pond—on the crate by the mast. It’s absurdly intact, unlike the rest of me.
The crew stares. They always do, like they’re still figuring out how someone like me manages to keep breathing. The sea should’ve swallowed me whole years ago, and failing that, my own damn self should’ve done the trick. But here I am.
I ignore them, focusing on my new ecosystem, turning the jar in my hands as footsteps close in behind me.
“That’s a lie,” Zayan’s voice cuts through. “Don’t believe him for a second.”
“He nearly killed us,” Gypsy’s voice follows, sharper than I’d like. The accusation stabs faintly, which is ridiculous. I don’t care what she thinks of me. Yet there it is—a twist of guilt seeping through the cracks, making me shift where I stand.
How could I have known the two of them would jump into the fray? I’d only been trying to protect myself—and Vinicola, who was too stupid or too loyal to get out. The pirates who came after me wouldn’t have rested until blood was spilled. I just made the first move, used the element of surprise before it slipped away.
“We made it back alive, didn’t we?” I murmur, still not turning. “That should count for something.”
“Oh, sure, we made it back,” Zayan groans. “But at what cost? Do you have any idea how fast word spreads among pirates? My old crew won’t rest until they have my head. They’ll come for me, Rancour. Do you understand what that means?”
“Very insightful, Mr. Zayan,” Vinicola interjects, his laugh tight with nerves. “In fact, maybe we should all sit around and discuss the implications. Just... not now? Maybe we could, I don’t know, actually get off this cursed island?”
I throw a glance over my shoulder. Zayan’s frustration is written all over his face, but he swallows whatever insult he was gearing up for and grips his blade, like he can draw comfort from the steel.
Ridley leans back, looking quietly amused. Why, I don’t know, and I doubt I want to. Gypsy stands beside him, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on me with an intensity that twists the guilty knot in my chest a little tighter. She lets out a slow breath, setting her jaw.
“Prepare to sail!” she shouts, her voice cutting through the quiet. Around us, the crew jolts to action. I could swear I hear a few relieved sighs. They probably hate it when I come back looking like I bathed in blood. Must make them wonder who’s next in line.
They throw themselves into their duties, the familiar sounds of ropes creaking, boots hitting the deck, sails rustling. But Gypsy doesn’t move—she’s still glaring at me, like she’s Silverbeard’s namesake Medusa, turning her stare to stone.
“What?” I bark, my lip curling. I probably look disgusted. Maybe I am, but not with her.
“That was reckless,” she says evenly, her gaze unwavering.
I scoff, turning away, letting my focus settle on the strange new addition to my world.
The glass jar sits there, looking innocuous enough, like a bit of art in a world too sharp for softness. The tiny pool inside catches the light, rippling slightly as the ship rocks on the water. It’s larger than I expected—two hands to carry, big enough to fit a small creature. A curiosity. And right now, it’s easier to focus on than anything else.
But her words linger.Reckless.The accusation scratches at something buried deep, something I’m not inclined to examine. Especially because it isn’t entirely wrong. It’s just that the worst part isn’t the risk; it’s the exposure.Pirates know who I sail with now, and by extension, Marauders and Serpents know about her and Zayan.
“Neither the Serpents nor the Marauders will follow us into the gateways,” I mutter, half to myself. “If that’s what you’re worried about, there’s no need. They’re not making it that far.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that they know about us,” she counters, voice sharp. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’ll face more enemies now. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather deal with the goddess alone. I don’t want to juggle naval battles, Rancour, not with every petty thug you’ve pissed off trailing us for miles. What’s their grudge, anyway? Why’d you go toe-to-toe with pirates in the first place?”
