“Power is one way to call it,” I say instead.
At that, she stops spinning the ring and looks into my eyes. “Oh, don’t be fooled. Power, it is. What else would you want a cursed compass for?”
My fingers twitch at the word “cursed,” but I keep my composure. There’s no point in showing Old Betty anything but confidence, especially now.
“Cursed or not, it’s a tool,” I say, trying to sound more indifferent than I feel. “And I’ve got use for it.”
She chuckles, a deep, gravelly sound, and tucks the ring into her pocket. “Tools, power—it’s all the same to the sea. It’ll chew you up and spit you out whether you know what you’re holding or not. But far be it from me to turn down a profitable trade.”
Betty moves to the back of her stall, shuffling through crates and boxes piled high in chaotic order. My pulse quickens with each creak of the wood, the seconds stretching painfully. Finally, she pulls out a small, worn box—its surface weathered from years at sea, just like everything else in Skullcove Haven.
I take a step forward, feeling my breath hitch in anticipation. This is it. The compass my father is so afraid of.
She sets the box down between us, running her fingers over the faded engravings on the lid. Her eyes flicker up to mine, sharp as ever.
“You sure about this, lass? You may think you know what you’re getting into, but once you have it, there’s no turning back.”
I’ve been sure for years. That’s why I’ve been building up a tab at Old Betty’s and staying one step ahead of Silverbeard’s prying eyes.
This compass might look like a broken trinket, but to everyone else, it’s cursed. To me, it’s the key to making a name for myself. Starting a pirate crew would be easier with this in my hands. Plenty of men are angry at their so-called gods, plenty who want to defy The Lady. They’ve lost things at sea and crave retribution.
I don’t believe in gods or curses. But if I take this compass out to sea and come back unscathed, I’ll carve out my place.
I reach out, fingers brushing the weathered box, and meet Betty’s gaze. “I’m sure,” I say, voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
Betty watches me for a moment, as if weighing something, before giving a slow nod. She flips the latch on the box and opens it, revealing the compass nestled inside. It’s old, that much is clear, with intricate engravings spiraling around the edges, half-faded from time and sea. The needle inside spins lazily, pointing anywhere but north, just like I expected.
I let out a slow breath. A gold little thing like this and even my father shakes in his boots at the thought of it.
“Take it, then,” Betty says, her voice low. “If you’re willing to pay the price.”
I just did, didn’t I?
I slide the compass from the box, the metal cool against my palm. It feels heavier than it should. But I don’t flinch. I’ve worked too hard, waited too long, to hesitate now.
“What’s life without a little risk?” I say with a smirk, tucking the compass into my pocket.
Betty chuckles, the sound deep and knowing. “Aye, that’s the spirit. Just don’t dare let Silverbeard know it’s in your possession. He’ll have you strung up by dawn if he even catches a whiff of it.”
I grin at that. “Let him try.”
She cocks a brow, but says nothing else, walking back to her stool and sitting upon it. I nod her goodbye and glance over my shoulder. The sun has dipped low enough to cast long shadows over the village, swallowing the light.
The time for my other meeting is long past.
As I weave through the market, my gaze darts to the meeting point I’ve been aiming for since before sunset—a small tavern nestled between two larger warehouses. There are people clustered in front of it, their voices blending into the murmur of the night.
Pirates, beggars, and local deadbeats—they’re all gathering here tonight. All because Silverbeard’s crew—The Sly Serpents—are expected to make an appearance. His presence, even rumored, turns Skullcove Haven into a powder keg.
It all makes sense, given his reputation. Couple years back, I still felt pride because of it. My father, my crew—they’re legends. But now… Now, it’s different.
I push through the crowd, careful not to draw attention, my fingers brushing the compass tucked safely in my pocket. Given the lack of boisterous laughter coming from the inside of the tavern, the other Serpents are not here yet.
Good. I still have some time left.
I slip through the tavern’s doors, the dim light barely enough to outline the familiar shapes of tables and chairs scattered about the room. The place is already louder than usual, but there are a few patrons sitting hunched over their drinks, their eyes darting toward the entrance as if expecting trouble regardless.
My boots scuff against the wooden floor as I move toward the back, my eyes scanning the shadows. That’s when I see him.
