I’ll be exposed.
My mind races, searching for a way out. I look to the side, pretending to look the crewmembers in the eyes. I already beginto map the layout of the tavern, check the windows, memorize who’s standing in the way.
I just need to redirect everyone’s attention to Silverbeard. I need them to glance at him, distract them from watching me so carefully.
Sure, lying to your own crew, your family, is a dick move. It’s also the only thing I’m willing to do. That, alongside running away from here and doing what I had planned all along—take this damn compass to the seas and making a name for myself.
But before I can speak, Zayan’s voice cuts through the tension. All plans I didn’t even manage to make fall apart.
“It’s in her pocket,” he reveals. A hint of smugness marks that raspy, scratchy voice of his. A hint of smugness, and a hint of shame. “The compass is in her right pocket.”
That fucking bastard… That conniving, bottom-feeding piece of shit.
“Empty your pocket, Gypsy,” Silverbeard says. “Do it now.”
With a shaking hand, I sheathe my blade and reach into my pocket. The compass feels impossibly heavy, as if it’s grown denser in the last few minutes. As I pull it free, holding it up for all to see, a collective gasp ripples through the room. Cali’s is the loudest, Silverbeard’s a low, guttural sound of disappointment.
“So it’s true,” Cali whispers, her voice thick with disbelief. “You bought the cursed compass... you foolish girl.”
The room vibrates with murmurs, crew members shuffling nervously. Even Ben’s face pales, his eyes wide as he stares at the object in my hand as if it’s a viper ready to strike.
“I didn’t buy a cursed compass. I bought a broken compass. That’s it,” I say, hating how my voice quivers a little. I need to lift my head up high and show no fucking fear. Instead, Iquiver. “You just believe tales, all of you.”
“It’s no tales if they’re true,” Silverbeard growls. “Then, they become the truth.” His pistol lowers from Zayan’s head, thetension easing slightly. “You’re free to go, boy,” he says, his voice cold. “Be off with you before I change my mind.”
Zayan casts me one final glance before slipping through the door without a word. How easily he walks away, as if none of this means a damn thing to him.
One thing is sure. If I get out of this alive, I’ll hound after him myself.
“What now?” I spit out, the compass cold in my grip as I turn back to my father. “You plan to flog me for possessing a piece of metal?”
He’d never flog me—he doesn’t have the heart for it, and the crew would never stand for it. Not for me. Not for his daughter. But today, something’s changed, and the crew is watching like they’ve already decided my fate.
“Perhaps a flogging would teach you a lesson,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “But it won’t rid you of that cursed trinket, will it? And it won’t extinguish the fire in your eyes.” His gaze drops to the compass in my hand, then back to me. “No, I won’t flog you. Instead, I’ll give you a choice.”
I force myself to stand tall.
“Leave that cursed thing behind, or you won’t be calling yourself a Serpent come sunrise.”
My breath catches. “What?” The word barely escapes my lips, strangled by disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
But his face says otherwise.
“You heard me, girl. We’ve had our differences. You’ve made your share of mistakes, and I’ve let them slide. But this? This is the line. I won’t risk the Lady’s wrath for your recklessness. So you decide.” His voice sharpens, every word cutting deep. “What matters more—your place on this crew, or that damned compass?”
I glance around at the faces I’ve sailed with for years—men and women who have fought beside me, bled beside me. They approve of this.
Even Cali does. “You heard the Captain, Gypsy,” she murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Make a choice.”
I take a breath, then another. By the third, I already know. I’ve always known. But now, I have to drag that truth out from where it’s been buried.
“I won’t leave it,” I find myself saying. “I’ve earned it. It’s mine.”
“Then you’ve made your choice.”
I’m allowed one last entrance onto Medusa’s Gaze before they cast me off.
The familiar creak beneath my boots sends a twist through my gut, even though I try to ignore it. This ship isn’t just wood and sail; it’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember. I know every inch, every knot in the planks, every quirk in the rigging. The ship and I have been through hell together.
