“Thank you,” I murmur, glancing over my shoulder to Aster, who’s still fast asleep. “Is there somewhere else I can eat it? I don’t want to wake him.”
As if on cue, my stomach growls obnoxiously loudly, and I rub at it as though that’s going to help to stifle the sound.
“We can go to the kitchen. It’s empty right now, and I hate eating alone.” He beams at me, and I gawp at him. The man looks like an actual angel who’s come down to mingle with us mere mortals. Honestly, his face is like a sunbeam. I feel like I shouldn’t look at it directly or it’ll do damage to my eyes.
The tray is groaning with hearty bowls of stew, freshly baked bread and neatly sliced fresh fruit. I give Aster one last look before gently closing the door behind us.
“I’m Jack, by the way,” the pirate tells me as he leads the way toward the kitchen. “I’m not sure we introduced ourselves properly earlier. I’m Captain Finch’s left-hand man.”
I cock my head at him. “Is that a thing?”
“I figure that if Torin is his right hand, there’s no reason I can’t be the left,” he replies with another cheerful grin.
The kitchen is a large room with a stove and a wall covered in cabinets and counters and a huge selection of knives. It’s empty, just like Jack promised, and there are half a dozen benches around large, scrubbed wooden tables that all seem to have a litany of rude poems carved into them.
He slides the tray onto the table and drops onto the bench as I take a seat opposite him as he shares the filled dishes between us. My stomach rumbles again as I shovel a spoonful of stew into my mouth.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s delicious. Cooked long and slow, so the meat is so tender it’s falling apart.
“Did you... did you find anything?” I ask.
His headshake has the tiny bubble of hope in my chest shrinking in on itself.
“I hear you have an idea of which direction they headed in, which should make things easier,” he says. “I’m going to head out again soon. Just need to refuel, you know?”
Trying not to let my disappointment show, I let my gaze drop to the tabletop and its bawdy poetry, tracing the letters with my fingertip.
In Ashwick, Wildrake guards his golden hoard
But his princess took my loaded sword
Well, that’s... charming.
“So, did Torin give you the tour and introduce you to everyone?” Jack asks.
At my head shake, he snorts. “I should have known. He probably just grunted and left you to it, right?”
He then launches into a detailed description of each of the crew members. They all seem to be called things like ‘Bones’ and ‘Blacktooth’ and ‘Dagger’. Something that has me fighting a smile as they seem to get more ridiculous the longer he goes on.
“Did you and Torin turn up late to the naming party or something?” I ask, rubbing my aching eyes. “Since you ended up with two normal-sounding names?”
Jack snorts. “I did suggest going by Angry Jack, but Tor refused to use it.” His grin widens. “Anyway, we’re the originals, so it makes sense for us to go by our original names.”
“The originals?”
“Captain Finch’s first crew members on this ship.”
“And how long have you been with him?”
He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling and scrunching his eyes up as he thinks. “At least two decades, I’d say.”
I snort. He looks barely a day over thirty. “Were you a child pirate or something?”
“We’ve only been in these parts for the past few years, though.” His eyes flick to me and away again and I don’t miss that he totally ignored my question. “Although we’d have come sooner if we knew what these waters had to offer.”
I roll my eyes as my gut roils at the casual flirtation. Then his face breaks into another smile, and he shows far too many perfect teeth as he laughs out loud.
“You’re finished?” he asks, eyeing the empty plate in front of me.
