“That so?” He glances at my mouth again, his grip tightening on my wrists.
I can’t seem to think. All I want to do is talk back to him. But that’s utterly stupid. He can break me in half if he wants to. And he will. After all, he killed Coy. That thought sobers me up, and I return my gaze to his.
He seems to sense the shift in me, because he sighs and moves off the bed. “Come on, lass. He needs to take a look at that bite. I put the poultice on while you were asleep, but it hasn’t done a damn bit of good from the look of you.”
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to a sitting position and kneels in front of me.
“What are you doing?” I press my hands to my temples as my head goes woozy.
“Checking it.” He puts one palm at the back of my knee, the touch sending tingles all through me. “Sorry about this.”
“About what—ow!” I try to pull my leg away, but he holds it firm and removes the bandage. Pain roars to life up my calf and sizzles along my nerve endings. “Jesus H! That hurts.” Tears well in my eyes as he tosses aside the poultice.
He rises and hurries to the door, wrenches it open and yells “Sky!” before returning to me with a pitcher of water. “It’s worse. You’re too weak to fight off the infection.”
“I’m not weak,” I say … weakly.
He pours me a cup of water and hands it to me. “Drink it.”
“Probably poison.” That doesn’t stop me from taking a gulp. It hits my stomach and sends a cold ripple along my insides.
“You need to eat.” He returns to the door and yells again, this time for Cookson.
I stare up at him as he returns to me, my head still woozy. “What are you even doing in here? The captain just lets his merry band of miscreants take a snooze in his bed whenever they feel like it?” I hiss as he pours some of the water along my leg. When I look down to inspect the damage, my gorge rises. The teeth marks along my calf are oozing pus. “Oh my god.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
The pirate runs to the window and tosses the water out, then hands me the pitcher. “In there, lass.”
Though I try to stop it, I can’t. My stomach churns, and every bit of water and food I’ve eaten since I’ve been on the ship pours out of me. It constricts my throat and holds my breath captive until my stomach is completely empty.
When I look up again, Skylights is there handing me a wet washcloth and taking the pitcher. “Here. Wipe your mouth and lie back. I need to get a look at this, and I don’t want you throwing up again.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Your objection is noted.” My pirate glowers at me. “Now lie back.”
“No.” I try to smack him away, but my body isn’t cooperating.
My pirate takes my forearm and gently lowers me onto the bed. “What’s this?” He holds up my only weapon, the fountain pen.
“It’s mine.”
“Mmhmm.” He pockets it then sits heavily beside me. “How bad is it, Sky?”
Pinpricks of pain lace through me, and I gasp.
My pirate takes my hand, squeezing it hard. “Just breathe.”
“Shit. It’s not looking good. How long until we’re at Blackbeard’s Cay?”
“Another hour. Maybe two, depending on the crosswinds.”
Skylights stands, his face shadowy as the lantern swings behind him. “The sooner the better. Huran will have the right medicines for this. My stores are depleted.”
“Cap’n?” I can barely see Cookson, but I recognize his voice.
My pirate turns to him. “She needs to eat. Bring some bread and butter from the larder.”
“No.” The thought of food turns my stomach. “I can’t. I’ll throw up again. No offense, Cookson.” Why do I care if he’s offended? He’s a pirate.
