I watch the flames catch and grow, my legs burning with the effort of keeping steady. Finally, I sink back on my heels, but the ache in my body doesn’t distract me like it should. Instead, that dream—the one that clawed its way into my head—is all I can think about.
Did it even happen? Was it real? The more time passes, the less I know. I swear I’m going insane.
Zayan watches me through the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames. At first, he doesn’t say anything, just stares, the kind of look that makes it impossible to pretend I’m not unraveling.
I try to ignore him, but that never lasts long with Zayan. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and turn to him, eyes sharp.
“What?” I snap.
“You really okay?” he asks, his voice softer than I expect. Almost… hesitant. And that throws me. Zayan’s not the kind of man who hesitates—he never second-guesses anything.
I don’t know what to say. Should I tell him the truth? That I’m anything but okay? That a talking monkey almost drowned me while claiming The Lady—the goddess I’ve spent my whole life mocking—was disappointed in me? That I rejected her so-called “invitation”? I can barely make sense of it myself, and every time I try, it feels like my brain is short-circuiting. I’ve never believed in gods, but after that…
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. Lying is easier. It always has been.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile that feels brittle and fake. “Just… a little shaken up. You know I hate being on land.”It’s weak, but it’s something. I toss the lie at him like a bone, hoping he’ll take it and let this go.
He nods, but slowly, and I can see the doubt in his eyes. Zayan’s not buying it. He didn’t before and he doesn’t now. In fact, I’m probably just making him more sure that something’s off. Still, he lets it slide, shifting the conversation with a flick of his gaze.
“What do you want to do now? We can fix the ship and gather strength. But what then? Where do you want to go?”
I pick up a twig and toss it into the fire, watching as the flames devour it, burning it down to nothing. The heat licks at my skin, but I welcome it. It’s a good pain, real, something I can hold onto.
I shrug, trying to deflect. “And you?” I ask, hoping to push the attention back on him.
“I go where you go, love. Thought I made that clear.”
His voice carries that familiar, maddening ease, and I toss another stick into the fire, more forcefully this time. The flames are easier to face than him right now.
“You’re a man of the sea,” I say, my voice slipping before I can stop it. “We go where the wind blows.” I don’t know what I’m trying to prove with that, and maybe it doesn’t matter. I keep going anyway, feeling the words tumble out, sharp and bitter. “This isn’t good for you. You stick around, and I’ll make your life a living hell, Cagney.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“I mean it.” My voice hardens. “You need to pay for what you’ve done.”
He leans back. “Well, let’s say I’m dedicated to pay my share, then.”
I stare at him, letting his words sink in. He’s already thrown himself into the fire twice—first by walking into a Serpents’tavern, and then by leaping onto my ship during a storm. Twice, he’s walked into certain death, and for what? To prove something to me? To himself? I don’t understand him, and maybe I never will. But I can’t deny that he’s risked everything for this—whatever this is.
The least I can do is give him an answer.
“I want to get my compass back,” I say slowly. When he doesn’t respond right away, I glance at him through fluttering lashes, unsure if I’m ready for whatever reaction will come next.
Across from us, Vinicola sits just outside the glow of the fire, pretending not to listen, but I know better. His eyes flick toward us, his ears tuned into every word.
For once, I don’t mind the intrusion. Somehow, he makes this twisted mess between Zayan and me feel...manageable.
But even with Vinicola close by, I can’t ignore the way Zayan sits next to me, shirtless, his tanned skin gleaming in the firelight. His muscles shift with every breath, and I hate that I notice. He’s glowing in the dark. Orange flecks dance on his tattooed skin.
“There’s no convincing you to just let go of it, is there?” His voice carries a tired resignation, like he already knows the answer.
But I consider it for a moment regardless.
It’s not just stubbornness that keeps me clinging to this compass. It’s not just my damn pride. No, there’s more to it. I wasn’t always this resolute. Reckless, sure. I’ve been called that plenty of times, and I’d be the first to agree. But relentless? The kind of person who refuses to let something go, even when it burns in my hands? That wasn’t me.
Not before the war ended. Not before I watched the seas turn into a graveyard, littered with wreckage and corpses, all because two pirates refused to let go.
Back then, I didn’t have this kind of drive gnawing at me. I didn’t see how quickly everything could slip through your fingers if you didn’t grab it when it was there, right in front of you.
