“No,” Dominic ordered before she could light a spark. “They could have supplies we can take to the island. And we don’t run frompirates,” he spat the word like it had a rotten taste.
“You can’t fight. You’re still injured. I literally just stitched you back together,” Ace demanded.
Dominic grumbled something to himself, and Adara could tell it was taking everything in him not to toss his second overboard.
“You didn’t let us help all those times with the relics,” Asher said to Dominic. “You gave us a home and kept us from danger the entire time.” He turned to Adara. “It’s our turn to protect you for once.”
They all nodded with determination. “I, for one, would love a good pirate raid,” Desmond said, tying his long onyx braids back with a strip of leather.
The irritation lining Dominic’s face softened, and he smiled with such genuine adoration that Adara felt like her insides would melt. He might have been the cruel, cunning King of Keys, but the love the Andreilians had for one another could not be contained. Their willingness to fight for what was theirs was unmatched. They’d go to the ends of the earth for each other.
Dominic nodded, striding down the stairs of the quarterdeck and over to their group with an assertive gait, his limp hardly noticeable anymore. “They’re not firing, so I’m assuming they want to raid as smoothly as possible. We’re not going to give them that,” Dominic started as they all turned to him for a plan. “Wait until they get in close range, and we’ll tie off to their ship so we can steal their supplies. Donotlet them board our ship. If they put up a fight, well, you all know what to do. The main goal is to keep our ship undamaged. We can’t afford to be stranded in the Plagued Sea.”
Dominic glanced at the three youngest of them. “Zephyr, Silas, Niran. Stay below decks. Evreux, you choose if you’re ready to fight.”
“Why does he get to decide and not us?” Niran protested, hands splayed at his sides.
“We’ve gone over this before. You think you can put up a fight against cutthroat pirates three times your size?” Tyson chastised.
Zephyr shrank away from the argument, happy to oblige Dominic’s commands.
Silas tossed a knife in the air and caught the blade between his fingertips. “We’ve been training too. You can’t keep us locked away every time there’s a threat. We want to help!” His moss green eyes locked on Adara, pleading for her input.
She’d seen Niran with a sword, trained Silas with his knives. The two weren’t as helpless and innocent as their young teenage bodies made them appear.
Adara nodded. “Let them fight,” she commanded. No one dared question her, but they all looked to Dominic for approval.
“Fine,” Dominic said.
Silas and Niran broke into grins, joyously bumping their fists together.
Adara crouched to meet Silas’s eyes. She drew a small knife from a sheath along her ribs, securing it to Silas’s bandolier. “Remember your training,” she said softly as she slid another throwing knife free and placed it at his belt. “Don’t hesitate. Aim for the throat.” Her eyes slid back and forth between him and Niran. “Be brave,” she said.
Silas’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he gave her a salute.
“If they get injured, it’s on you,” Tyson growled, drawing a longsword as the enemy ship reached close range.
“Your blood will be on me if you don’t shut up,” she snapped, rising and aiming the tip of her sword at his throat.
Ace slammed the butt of his axe against the deck. “Now isnotthe time to turn on each other!” he yelled.
Adara huffed and lowered her sword, turning her attention back to the enemy ship. Evreux wordlessly tossed over thick coils of rope and the other crew tied it to their ship.
Their features were twisted into malicious grins full of yellowed or missing teeth, surrounded by unkempt beards. Grime and blood stained their dark clothing and the weapons they drew, metal singing.
“We don’t want any trouble,” one of them called from across the short distance, raising his hands in supposed surrender.
“Then lower your weapons!” Vesper yelled, training his eye down the length of the arrow nocked in his crossbow.
“You lower yours,” the pirate said as other crew members lifted a gangplank. It slammed onto the side of their ship, creating a walkway over the sea. The man approached the plank, tattered boots thudding against the wood as he stepped ontoit. He wore black pants, scuffed and ripped, and a matching tunic with the sleeves cut off. A baldric holding an assortment of knives was strapped across his chest. He sheathed his cutlass as he proceeded to strut arrogantly across the gangplank. Adara didn’t think this man was the captain. They wouldn’t risk sending their commander over first, but perhaps it was the first mate.
“Hand over your valuables, and we can all be on our way,” his gruff voice carried over the drone of the ocean.
Footsteps sounded behind her as Dominic pushed his way through the Andreilians crowded around the gangplank. The pirate raised his hands again as he strode forward, now halfway across.
Dominic stepped onto the plank, his strides long and assured despite the sway of the ships. He kept his weapons sheathed as well, but his hands were balled into fists.
“Like I said,” the first mate repeated as Dominic reached him. “We don’t want a fight—”
