But then the fighting stopped. The bloodshed fizzled out, and what was left? Regret. A cold, festering thing, clinging to the hearts of those who’d waited too long. I’ve seen it in the faces of the people who survived.
Silverbeard, with all his power, couldn’t save Gibbons’ village from the Marauders’ raid. And now Gibbons, with his one good leg and that damn peg, gets so drunk he talks about running up volcanoes like it’s still an option. He’ll never climb one. Never chase any dream that requires more than two legs.
Cali, the tough-as-nails carpenter who’d take on a dozen men, never got to marry the love of her life. She watched him bleed out, too late for any vows. She didn’t seize her moment, and now? There’s nothing left of it but ashes.
And then there’s me. Watching them, learning. Learning that if you don’t reach out when fate hands you something, it slips away, leaving nothing but regret and bitter memories.
So, no. Letting go isn’t an option. Not anymore.
If Zayan had asked me this a couple hours ago, back when that cursed monkey didn’t yet appear in the haze of the jungle, maybe—just maybe—I would’ve considered it. Hell, he’s gotten through to me before. I’ve let him find the cracks in my resolve and sneak through, like when he talked me down on the ship during the storm. He’s good at that, finding a way past my walls when I least expect it.
But now? That moment’s passed.
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend, but it feels like the only answer that fits.
He exhales, long and heavy, the kind of breath that says he knows better than to argue. He nods, accepting it, even if he doesn’t like it. “Alright. We find the compass, then.”
I blink, thrown off. His agreement comes too easy, too quick, like he’s not even going to fight me on it. I frown, turning to face him fully. “What?”
“If we sail soon, we might still catch the seagulls circling the wreck. I’ll dive for it.” He says it so matter-of-factly.
I almost laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?” He raises an eyebrow, his gaze steady, challenging. “If I don’t dive for it, you’ll probably try it yourself, right? Diving is what I do. It’s what I’m good at.”
I purse my lips.
Would I do it? Try to dive? Diving into deep wrecks is dangerous. And we’re not even talking about some shallow lagoon or a quick plunge for treasure. We’re talking about depths that crush bones and waters where anything could be lurking. We were in the middle of the goddamn ocean when I threw the compass. The kind of place where you don’t come back up unless you’re damn lucky.
Still, would I do it? Fuck, I probably would.
But Zayan doesn’t know about the message from the Lady or how important the compass has become. He’s just ready to risk his life for something he doesn’t even understand.
“Don’t be stupid.” The words come out quieter than I intended, more vulnerable. I hate it.
He shrugs, offering me that lazy smirk of his, the one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s just say I’m still trying to earn my spot in the crew.”
I scoff, but even I can hear how hollow it sounds. My mouth opens to fire back something sharp, but no words come. Instead, I force out, “I… uh, I’ll think about it.”
Zayan tilts his head, his eyes flicking over my face. Then, he just shrugs again, turning his attention to the fire.
“Sure thing.”
The flames crackle as he pokes at them, sending embers swirling into the darkening sky. The scent of fish cooking over the fire fills the air. My stomach twists, but it’s not from hunger.
“How about you just let him join, Miss Captain?” Vinicola pipes up from across the fire. “As your first mate, I don’t mind. That’s what you call them, right? The first ones to join the crew? First mates?”
I blink, caught off guard by his absurdity. A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. “First mate, huh?” I echo, glancing over at Zayan, who’s already giving me that look. Oh, this is bound to annoy him. Any first mate worth his salt would hate to hear that title tossed around so carelessly.
“First mate,” Zayan repeats, his voice low and mocking, the edge of a smirk pulling at his lips. “Quite the leap for someone who can barely tie a knot.”
Vinicola, unfazed, grins back. “The sea is free for all, Mister Zayan, and my rank was given by Miss Captain herself. Should I start practicing my stern orders? ‘Tie the ropes, swab the deck!’”
I can’t help it—the laugh that bursts out of me is sudden and loud, catching me by surprise.
Zayan’s smirk darkens, and just as I expected, he catches the bait. He stands up, his whole demeanor shifting, the playful arrogance giving way to something more dangerous.
“And here I was,” he says, “thinking I didn’t want to kill you anymore, bard. But maybe I should reconsider.”
