I know what he’s saying makes sense. Hell, he’s Zayan Cagney, the infamous treasure hunter who’s pulled gold from the deepestwrecks. If anyone knows how treasure behaves underwater, it’s him. But my heart won’t stop hammering against my ribs.
“But I saw it,” I insist, my frown deepening. “Didn’t you? That monkey jumped right in front of us. It had the compass—I know it.”
Zayan shakes his head slowly. “I saw something jump, sure, but I didn’t see any gold.”
Frustration tightens like a noose around my throat. The last thing I want is to tell him what I just experienced—the voice, the threat, the whole damn mess. He’ll dismiss it, blame the toxin, and I’ll look like a fool. Besides, I don’t even have proof. It’s not like I can hold up a golden compass and say, “See? I’m not losing my mind.”
Even if I told him, would he believe me? Do I even believe it myself?
I swallow hard, my stomach twisting into knots. The Lady is not pleased with me, that’s what the voice said. The Lady—the goddess every pirate in the Whisperwind Sea bows to, the one they believe rules the waves. The same goddess I’ve spent my life mocking, claiming I don’t believe in her. Could she really be real? Could all of it?
No. I can’t tell them. Not yet. Not until I know what to believe myself.
So I force a smile, pushing down the questions tearing through my skull. I take a deep breath, my voice steady but flat. “Well, fuck me sideways. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” I glance at Vinicola, then back to Zayan. “Let’s get on with it. Resources don’t gather themselves.”
Zayan studies me for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed, but he nods. He doesn’t buy it. Not fully. But he’ll let it go for now. Vinicola, on the other hand, looks like he’s been handed a second chance at life.
“Right, Miss Captain,” he says with a crooked grin. “I think I’ve had enough jungle for one day already.”
After guzzling down as much of the sweet river water as humanly possible, trudging through this darkening jungle with my arms full of sticks, rocks, and half-smashed fruit is anything but easy.
The leaves slap at my face like they’re trying to punish me for even being here, and Zayan—who’s at the front—should be shielding us from it all, but of course, he’s not. His broad shoulders and cocky strut do nothing to stop the branches from whipping at my skin.
The darkness makes every rustle, every snap of a twig, sound like something out to kill us. The dry twigs I’m carrying dig into my already aching belly, sending sharp jabs of pain from my chest up to my throat. And to top it all off, I can still feel the phantom touch of that sticky jungle poison on my leg.
The whole thing’s a nightmare.
I’m walking in the middle, with Vinicola behind me, rambling on about his wild adventures as a bard and claiming this is the craziest one yet. His words barely register through the numbness that’s taken over my mind.
I went through the motions without a thought—gathered the wood, picked up the fruit, cleaned the sweat and dirt from my skin in the river, scrubbed the salt from my hair until my scalp stung. Zayan even caught a couple of fish with nothing but a rock. But ever since I woke up choking on river water, none of it matters. None of it.
The only thing that matters is getting the compass back.
I should’ve turned around hours ago. I should be hacking my way through the jungle, turning over every branch and chasing that thieving monkey until my legs give out. I should be tearingthis whole place apart, dragging my sorry self deeper into this hell.
But I don’t. I don’t know why, but I don’t.
Instead, I just keep walking. Step after step, following Zayan like I’ve got nowhere else to be, no other purpose. It makes my skin crawl, this betrayal of my own instincts. What the hell am I doing? The compass is everything—it’s the reason I’m here, the reason I’ve risked everything. And yet here I am, trudging back to the beach.
I didn’t give up. I just… I need time. Time to think, time to plan. I’ll get the compass back, but I’ve got to be smart about it. Charging back into the jungle like a madwoman won’t get me anywhere. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“I think I see the exit,” Zayan’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You guys hear the waves?”
The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faint, but unmistakable. Still, the tight knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.
We push through the last barrier of foliage. Then, for a second, I just stand there, staring at the dark sea ahead, feeling the wet sand shift under my boots. Zayan turns to me, his eyes glinting.
“We made it,” he says with a wink. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not relieved.”
I force a smile. “Yeah. Made it.”
He’s already setting down the bundle of supplies with a grunt, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should get a fire going,” he mutters. I can hear the way he pants in small, controlled breaths, trying to hide how tired he really is. “We’ll need it to cook the fish.”
I nod, dropping my own load of sticks and rocks onto the sand. “Yeah, let’s do that.” My voice sounds distant, like I’m not even in my own body.
Focus, Gypsy. You’re a goddamn captain. Act like one.
Vinicola’s already busy, kneeling in the sand, arranging the sticks in a neat pile like he’s building something sacred. His chatter fills the air, a constant stream of words that bounce off me without sticking. I kneel next to him, helping him build up the fire, my hands working even though my mind is not really in it.
