“Fear me not. I am no threat to you. Never will be. But they are. You have to tell him the truth.” He crouches in front of the bars, one hand wrapping loosely around the iron. I follow the shape of his face, only to find his eyes unnaturally dark, black, and empty. The outline of his hands flickers faintly, surrounded by a dim silver light. Something in him draws me in despite the fear crawling under my skin.
“Who?”
“The Captain.”
“What truth?”
His gaze lingers on the scales scattered along my collarbone. “You know what truth.”
I pull in a slow breath and let it out through my teeth, careful not to let him hear the tremor. How can he know the truth about me? They think I am a witch. I have given them no reason to believe otherwise. I turn my face away, pretending to study the floor, though my skin prickles under his stare.
“Don’t play dumb now, lass.” His voice shifts, a quiet warning. “I saw you humming for the cabin boy. Beautiful sound, by the way. I was impressed and can admit that even I was almost drawn to it.”
My jaw tightens as I look back at him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. The faintest twitch touches the corner of his mouth, and I can’t tell if it’s amusement or cruelty. Perhaps it’s the latter. If I tell the captain the truth, as he proposes, I will die a death they will write songs about.
“Why should I tell him the truth? He will toss me overboard."
He tilts his head, thinking. His other hand wraps around the second closest iron bar. The light from above glints faintly over his knuckles, making them vanish. I shift, the chain at my ankle scraping against the floor.
“Maybe. But he hates one thing more than sirens, and that’s a liar.”
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
The word lingers in the air, making my stomach churn.
“You seem to know the captain well,” I murmur, lifting my head again, trying to locate where his voice comes from, but it seems to come from everywhere. From the hull behind me, from the steps leading to the deck, from every crowded corner.
“Vaguely.”
Footsteps echo across the orlop. We both look toward the far side and fall silent. My heart stops for a beat, then rushes back into motion, pumping blood. When the sound fades, he turns back to me and lowers his voice.
“One more thing. Make sure the Glim doesn’t disappear again.” He glances down, his gaze lingering on my frame. “And ask for a new dress. They have plenty from their last raid, and I think the emerald one would look exquisite on you.”
My brows lift before I can stop them. Is he toying with me? I don’t even acknowledge his attempt to flirt with me. What intrigues me, though, is him mentioning the Glim, the silver light the pirates follow.
“What makes you think I can prevent the Glim from disappearing?”
“The Glim appeared when you set foot on the Noctis,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
I’m about to ask him more about the Glim when the sound of boots returns. I freeze and glance toward the steps, then back, but he’s gone. The space he occupied feels colder now, empty. It’s like he vanished into the shadows.
A lantern sways toward me, light spilling across the floorboards.
“What’s all that noise about?” the pirate in front of me murmurs slowly, as if he just woke up. “Who removed the leather strap?”
I freeze, heartbeat stuttering. I almost mention the ghost I just encountered, but decide against it.
He didn’t want to be caught, and I doubt they would believe me anyway.
“I don’t know. I woke up, and it was gone.” Luckily, lying has never been an issue for me. I do it without hesitation—probably a leftover siren trait.
The pirate sighs and rubs his temple with his other hand, clearly not convinced. His eyes briefly flick toward the chains, then back to me.
“I have to put it back on. The captain won’t like it if someone has disobeyed him.” He places the lantern on the floor outside my cell, the light reflecting in his honey brown eyes. They look kind, I realize, but they also hold pity in them.
