Zayan grunts, half-smirking despite himself. “Want me to toss you into it so you can check for yourself?”
“I’m more of a ‘watch from a safe distance’ kind of man,” I say. “But thank you for your kind offer.”
He rolls his eyes, though I can tell he’s at least a little amused. “Figures,” he mutters, pulling at the ropes with practiced ease. I don’t expect more, but then he surprises me. “There’s a clearing a few cannon shots inland. Couple of fruit trees, a stream… We got lucky.”
“Lucky got you looking like that?” I quip, tossing another piece of fruit into the barrel.
Zayan snorts, giving me a sideways glance. “Yeah, well, luck didn’t pull the leeches off my legs or keep the mosquitoes from feasting. And don’t even get me started on the wildlife.”
I wince, my skin crawling just at the mention. “Leeches? Really?”
“Like they were in a race to see which one could drain me faster,” he says dryly, inspecting a fresh cut along his forearm. “But I guess I won that one. Fucking parasites.”
I shudder. Yep, still firmly more of a ‘watch from a safe distance’ kind of man.
“Sounds... lucky,” I say, trying not to grimace. Lucky to him, maybe. Me? I’d take a crowded tavern over a deserted island any day.
He gives me a long look before grunting, “The island was empty. No poachers, no rogues, no mysterious tribes. Wildlife is predictable. I’d take it over humans any day.”
How poetic, I think. I toss the last fruit into the barrel and lean against the ship’s railing, watching as the sun sinks into the horizon. The sky bleeds oranges and purples, the air thick with salt and the scent of the jungle. It’s a beautiful moment, regardless of everything else.
“Guess people have a way of surprising you,” I say lightly, giving the fruit barrel a final nudge.
Soon, the two of us get to work on the sails. Thanks to Gypsy’s crash course in knots, I must admit, I’m getting the hang of it. There’s something oddly satisfying about working aboard a pirate ship. Who knew? All those years paying my way onto vessels, and I never thought I’d be doing anything more strenuous than sipping rum.
“What are we going to paint with?” I ask, as my fingers deftly weave through the knots, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment.
“There was some tar onboard originally,” Zayan replies.
“Tar?” I muse aloud, already imagining the mess. “Well, that requires taking my shirt off, obviously.”
“Just try not to blind me with your paleness.”
“That is unnecessary and offensive, Mr. Zayan,” I grumble, but he just laughs it off.
I finish untying the sails, watching them drop down with a heavy thud. Then, with a bit of flair, I pull off my shirt and drape it over the wheel. A touch dramatic? Perhaps. But one must maintain dignity, even in the most trying circumstances.
The two of us work together, me with the rope dipped in tar and Zayan stretching the canvas. The sun’s still hanging low, casting a golden glow over the deck.
A few minutes in, Zayan asks the most unexpected question.
“So, bard… do you know a lot about women?”
I pause, the question catching me off guard. The way he says it, so casual yet with a hint of embarrassment, piques my interest. Oh, now this is something. I know what’s happening here. Mr. Zayan, trying to understand the enigma that is Miss Captain.
I lean back, letting the tar brush drip lazily, and flash him my most roguish grin.
“Do I know a lot about women?” I repeat, as if the very idea is absurd. “Oh, my friend, I’d like to think so. Women are my muse, my melody, and the delightful bane of my existence. I’ve penned more songs about them than I can count. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing stirs the heart more.”
Zayan looks at me, his face twisted into a mix of confusion and something close to disbelief. It’s almost insulting, but I brush it off. The man is delicate in these matters.
“I wouldn’t call itdelightful,“ he mutters.
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He shrugs, still wearing that wonderfully lost expression. “I don’t think feeling lost in the dark, with some invisible force tugging at your heartstrings, is exactly delightful. It’s just… fucking confusing.”
“Ah, but confusion is half the magic!” I reply with a wink, feeling the words spill out like honey. “It’s the prelude to discovery. And that, my dear Zayan, is where the excitement begins. You never know what you’ll uncover—especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”
