Now, he nods, eyebrow still cocked and stilled halfway to his hairline.
“But just so we’re clear,” he says, “that girl is off limits to you, you get me?”
Jealousy, jealousy…
I roll my eyes. I might be falling easily in love, and by all means, Miss Captain is a very beautiful woman, but the way her emotions exploded like fireworks when Mister Zayan boarded our ship made it crystal clear: her heart belongs to him.
Me and her? It would never work.
“Who am I to stay in the way of true love?” I ask him, shrugging. It seems to satisfy him, because that eyebrow of his drops and his lips split in a smirk.
“Alright,” he says. “Now, let’s get us some resources, huh? Just better don’t tell me that you’re scared of the jungle as well.”
The truth is? I’m scared of just about anything on these goddamn islands. But I lick my lips, grin, and shake my head.
“Who? Me? Definitely not.”
14
Zayan
Vinicola is full of shit. He lied straight to my face.
Saying he’s scared? That’s putting it lightly. The man’s terrified. He’s not shrieking like a banshee this time, but I can hear it in every shaky breath he takes, like he’s holding himself together with string and prayers. But even though that’s the case, he’s still loud enough to wake the dead. Like a moron.
“I’m a bard, for heaven’s sake,” he hissed at me a few minutes ago when I told him to shut it. “I’m trying! But sound just loves me!”
I’d have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t busy keeping them on Gypsy, watching her swing a dagger I gave her. Gave her a little courage, sure, but the way she’s hacking at the air, I’m half-expecting her to take a swipe at me by accident. That’s saying something.
Gypsy’s no better off than Vinicola. She’s jumpy, spooked by every rustle, every damn leaf that moves like it’s going to bite. Fierce as she is, I can see it—her edge is dulling with every step we take, that fire inside her flickering.
That dagger? It’s just a crutch. It won’t last her long. Sooner or later, she’ll crack.
The more we press on, the more I’m thinking I should’ve gone into the jungle alone. Would’ve been quicker. I’d grab some wood, maybe a few roots, catch a fish or two. Set up camp on the coast, get the fire going, no fuss. I could even haul some fresh water from the schooner if I had to.
But… solitude here? Not smart. This island’s a mystery. Marauders never touched it, and according to Gypsy, Silverbeard didn’t either. Best to stick together, even if it’s a pain.
And as much as it pains me to say it, I don’t even mind having Vinicola along. Sure, he’s noisy, and I’d rather be alone with Gypsy. But she’s not exactly in the mood to talk about what matters. And the bard? He gets her to laugh without her cutting me with her eyes, so there’s that.
Plus, she’d never admit it, but having someone around who’s just as terrified as she is? That actually makes her a little braver.
“Why the hell is it so dark in here?” Gypsy curses, panting a little as she stops. Naturally, Vinicola and I stop, too.
“Because it’s a godless place,” Vinicola says, deadpan, brushing off his chest like that’s supposed to help. The idiot ditched his vest back on the beach, saying the jungle would ruin it. I told him it was a dumb idea. Guess we’ll see how long he lasts before he regrets it.
Now, if he drops dead, well... I’ll feel bad for about a minute. But I warned him. It’s all on him.
“Keep moving,” I say, scanning the ground. Water’s got to be close. Small animal tracks, the high humidity—it’s a matter of time before we find it. And with the schooner’s water barrels either smashed to bits or lost in the storm, we’re gonna need it.
Vinicola’s still grumbling, his steps louder than a herd of wild boar.
“Maybe the darkness is trying to spare us from whatever nightmare’s hiding under all these leaves,” he says, with a nervous laugh.“What you don’t see can’t make you flee.”
Oh, great. He’s singing now.
It’s cut short, thankfully.
Gypsy whirls around so fast she nearly slams into me. “Vinicola, if you don’t shut up, I’ll feed you to the first beast that crosses our path.”
