When we break apart, her breathing has changed. So has mine.
The ship lurches beneath us. I hear the creak of rigging and the bark of orders through the hull.
The door opens shortly after we’re underway. A few guards enter, followed by Gyla.
“Captain Druger.” Her voice carries practiced warmth that doesn’t reach those calculating eyes. “I trust your accommodations have been acceptable.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I’m sure you have. Piracy isn’t known for its creature comforts.” She gestures, and one of the guards produces a knife. “I’m going to free your hands. If either of you does anything foolish, my men will shoot Miss Larsa in the stomach. Slow death. Painful. Do we understand each other?”
Aviora’s breath catches beside me. I force my voice steady.
“We understand.”
The ropes fall away. I flex my fingers, feeling blood rush back into my hands, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. Beside me, Aviora does the same.
“Better.” Gyla produces a rolled chart from her sleeve. “Now. You claimed to know theFortune’s location. I’d like you to verify our heading.”
She spreads the chart across the cot—Wrecktide waters, marked with the coordinates Aviora calculated from the dead captain’s journal. The heading that leads directly over the ancient hunger’s resting place.
Aviora leans forward, studying the marks with professional attention. “You’re two degrees off. TheFortunelies closer to the eastern reef—here.” Her finger traces a line. “The captain’s journal mentioned a landmark. A rock formation that looks like a broken crown at low tide. You should be able to see it from the surface.”
Gyla’s eyes narrow. “Convenient details that can be verified without actually diving.”
“Convenient details that prove we’re telling the truth.” Aviora meets her gaze without flinching. “Send a scout if you don’tbelieve me. Have them look for the crown rock. If it’s not there, shoot me in the stomach and be done with it.”
The merchant queen is quiet for a long moment.
“Very well.” She rolls the chart back up. “We’ll verify your landmark. If it exists, we proceed with the salvage. If not—” A thin smile. “Well, you understand.”
She leaves. The guards follow. The door bars behind them with finality.
Aviora exhales slowly. “She bought it.”
“The first part.” I keep my voice low—the guards might be listening. “The crown rock will be there. And when she sees it, she’ll commit the full fleet.”
I feelthe ship stir before I hear it—the subtle shift of activity on deck, the creak of rigging as sails are adjusted. The fleet is preparing to dive.
Aviora wakes when I move. Her eyes find mine in the gray light, and I see the same grim resolve I’m feeling reflected back at me.
“It’s time.” Not a question.
“It’s time.”
The guards come for us, leading us to the deck where Gyla waits with her diving crews. Twenty men, equipped with weighted lines and salvage nets.
“Miss Larsa.” Gyla’s smile is thin, triumphant. “You’ll guide the first dive. Show my men exactly where theFortune’s hold lies.”
Aviora nods. Her face is a mask—nothing showing of the woman who whispered promises in the dark. “The depth willbe challenging. Your divers should work in pairs, surface every three minutes, and avoid?—”
She stops. Her gaze has fixed on something over the rail, down in the water below.
I follow her eyes. And my blood goes cold.
The sea is glowing.
Not the greenish phosphorescence of the Wrecktide’s normal waters. This is different. Brighter. A pulse of light from somewhere deep below, illuminating the darkness in steady rhythm. Like breathing. Like a heartbeat.
