Some time later...
Ihaul myself up onto the deck, my entire body slick with sweat.
“Oi! Someone get down there and haul the bard up,” I shout, nodding toward Vinicola’s limp form, sprawled like deadweight in the skiff below. A few heads turn, and before long, Vinicola’s dragged aboard, his lanky frame slumped on the deck.
I straighten, taking a breath, aware of the crew’s stares pinning me down with questions. Sure enough, a knot of them hangs back near the wheel—Fabien and Zayan must’ve made it back.
Thank fuck.
“What happened to him?” someone in the group of men surrounding me asks. I turn to see it’s Rye, the man who declared he’d stay on the ship even after Fabien gave himpermission for early departure. I follow his line of sight and glance at Vinicola’s unconscious body.
“He fainted,” I say, a half-smirk tugging at my lips. “Nothing serious.”
At least, that’s what I hope. Nothing serious… right? But with the mess that went down on that cursed, moonlit island, who the hell even knows? That place felt like someone had embedded a thousand fires into stone, twisting everything up until Vinicola lost his damn mind. And that bit with the fish scale…
I need to talk to Fabien and Zayan.
I’m about to turn around when I spot a familiar figure tearing across the deck, his usual swagger thrown to the wind. Zayan’s running straight for me, every step charged like he’s been waiting years for this moment—not just a few hours.
The crew is staring—gawking, even. But damn it, I feel a grin pull at my lips. For once, I let myself feel the relief of seeing him. We never could have done anything remotely similar before. Not out in the open.
Zayan reaches me, hands bracketing my face before I can get a word in, his forehead pressing to mine. For a single heartbeat, I let it happen. Just long enough to close my eyes and breathe him in, to let that feeling settle, of everything being alright again.
But then it’s over. I force myself to straighten, to steel myself anew. I’m still the captain here. I need to act like one.
“Miss me that much, Cagney?” I murmur as I pull back, smirking to cover the hint of softness.
His grin shifts into that cocky spark I know all too well, and he eases back, close enough to keep me tethered but just out of reach.
Zayan Cagney... looking like a smug idiot and soft as warm butter.
“More than you’d think,” he says, voice low and rough, curling tight in my chest. Part of me wants to grab him by thecollar, drag him into some dark corner and steal another damn moment before the world tries to rip us apart again.
Because maybe, just maybe, I missed him too.Actuallymissed him. Craved him. The pull’s there—the regret that we didn’t steal a few more moments back when we had the chance. And now, with him here, knowing what’s ahead, it only sharpens.
I clear my throat, shoving him away before he sees any more than I want him to. “Alright, enough with the sappy nonsense,” I say, giving his shoulder a shove. “We’ve got work to do. Tell me we’re on time—it’s not too late, is it?”
“Aye, we’ve got time,” he says, still looking at me with that damn look that lingers. But then his eyes drift to Vinicola, sprawled out on the deck, and his grin fades. “Oi, Rancour!” he calls out. “Get over here.”
Fabien strides up, eyes flicking from Zayan to Vinicola, brow furrowing in that way he does when things get messy. His usual calm slips, just a second, as he takes in the bard, limp as a fish left to rot.
“What happened to him?” he asks.
I cross my arms, fighting back a snicker at how ridiculous this is going to sound. “Moonlight got to him,” I say dryly. “Saw things, heard voices… then passed out cold. I had to drag his ass across the island just to get him here.”
And it wasn’t a stroll, either. Felt like hauling cannonballs uphill, and with a cursed riddle gnawing at my head, no less. I don’t expect Zayan or Fabien to fully get it, but there’s a look in their eyes that says maybe they do.
“Well, that’s just grand,” Fabien mutters, shaking his head. “Ridley, give him some smelling salts, would you?”
Ridley, who happens to be just behind him, steps forward, digging out a pouch at his belt. He kneels beside Vinicola and waves a pinch of the sharp salts under his nose. Vini stirs,groaning, his face twisting as the scent hits. His eyes flutter open, dazed, and he blinks up at Ridley, confused as a newborn.
“What… where…?” he mumbles, gripping the deck like it might throw him overboard. When his eyes finally focus on me, he tries for a grin, but it falters as he sways, glassy-eyed.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, V,” I say, attempting to keep my tone light. “Not seeing ghosts anymore, are we?”
Vinicola squints, clearly trying to scrape his memories together. “Ghosts? Land of the living?”
“You really don’t remember?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
