I raise an eyebrow, keeping my voice steady even though her words are starting to crawl under my skin. “And you didn’t mention this earlier because…?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.” Her gaze flickers to the compass in the bard’s hand. “And honestly? I thought I was losing my mind. But now…” She gestures toward it. “Now I don’t know what to think.”
Fuck. I knew it. But what good is an I told you so right now? No, I need a plan. Fast.
“What else did it say?” I ask, my voice low, keeping my feelings intact from spilling over. “Thismonkey.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity of asking this, of all things. But even weirder things supposedly happened on these seas. Remembering that stops me from smiling.
Gypsy hesitates, her eyes flashing with uncertainty, but she continues. “It said if I reject the Lady again, I’ll face her wrath.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice drops. “In other words, she’ll kill me.”
Ah. So that’s what we’re dealing with.
“And did this… prophetic monkey of yours happen to mention what you’re supposed to do next? Because I’m guessing She knows you already tossed the compass overboard.”
Her glare could cut through steel. “Don’t start acting like you believe that nonsense, Zayan. You really think I’m being hunted by a goddess?” The way her eyes flash—half angry, half unsure—makes me want to shake some sense into her. Or maybe kiss that doubt right out of her. Hell, either would work.
I shrug instead. “You’re the one who had a heart-to-heart with a talking monkey, love.”
Her jaw clenches, and I can see the battle waging inside her. Even before we crossed paths on Medusa’s Gaze, I’d heard about her. Hell, any pirate worth his salt has. Gypsy Flint, the daughter of Silverbeard, known for spitting in the face of the gods every chance she gets. She never believed in them.
So this? This is new territory for her.
“So, what… assuming this Lady’s real, hypothetically speaking,” she begins, her words a bit stiff. “And that the dream wasn’t just some fever… I’m not supposed to throw it away again. The monkey called it an invitation. Something I’m supposed to answer.”
“Answer?” I repeat, tilting my head. “As in, follow wherever it’s pointing?”
“There’s not much else you do with a compass, is there?”
“And you actually want to do that?”
That fire I love so much flares up in her eyes. “You got a better idea, Zayan?” she snaps, her frustration spilling out. “Because what else can I do?”
That fire—damn, it’s something I can’t help but admire, even when it’s aimed right at me. But this whole thing? The compass, the goddess, a target on her back? It’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than diving for treasure in wrecks where no sane man would go. We shouldn’t just charge in without at least a little clarity.
“Alright, alright. Just… hold on a second.” I step in, trying to fit the pieces together. “If you were planning to follow the compass from the start, then what was the storm about? Why would The Lady push you off course like that?”
“She…?” Gypsy breathes, her voice dropping for a beat. Then her eyes sharpen. “Right… she fucking did. Gods, this is surreal. I don’t know why. It makes no sense.”
“Unless she just wanted you to be aware of her,” Vinicola interjects suddenly. “You know, make you understand why you’re supposed to do this?”
Gypsy bristles. “Or,” she says, stepping toward Vinicola, her voice low and dangerous, “maybe this is all bullshit.”
Vinicola swallows, shrinking back a little, but he doesn’t stop talking. “I mean, gods aren’t exactly known for giving straightforward instructions, right? They never are.”
Gypsy scoffs, and I catch that tiny crack in her voice, just enough to make my chest tighten. “Yeah, or maybe she’s just toying with me until I drown. She’s a sadistic bitch like that.”
And that’s when it hits me, like a punch to the gut. Not something I like, but hell, it’s staring me in the face now, isn’t it?
“She’s not just playing you,” I mutter under my breath. “She’s playing all of us.”
The whole damn thing falls into place, piece by piece. Everything that happened so far.
First, Gypsy shows me that cursed compass, and like the reckless idiot I am, I stroll right into the Serpents’ den. I should’ve had my tongue sliced out for that stunt—should’ve bled out on the tavern floor while Silverbeard grinned—but no, I walk away with my head still attached.
Then she’s cast off her crew, as if to cut off her ties with the only thing that was keeping her from sailing out to the unknown. And wouldn’t you know it? She conveniently finds a ship the very next day. Not just any ship, either—one with a prisoner in the locker who just so happens to have a bounty on himself so high, that privateers risk sailing out into the storm for him. Of course.
And then? I get what I need. I’m led straight to Gypsy. We survive the storm, throw the compass overboard, and see the privateers drown. Next thing, we have no choice but to dock at an unknown island, where Gypsy is exposed to some rare plant toxin and gets a one on one talk with the Lady’s messenger.
