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“Illness.”

The word was short and ended any hope she had to question him further about the topic. Clearly, he wished that part of his past to remain closed, so who was she to beg him to open the door?

“Did ye take over the lugger straightaway?” she asked instead, hoping to ease his discomfort.

Fortunately, he nodded. “Yes. When I be twenty-one.”

“And the crew followed ye well enough?”

He tipped his head side to side, as if weighing his words as he began a new row of netting. “A few of ’em did. I ’ad to earn the respect o’ the others.”

“Well, it be clear that ye ’ave it now. I can tell just by lookin’ at ’em, they’d follow ye to the ends o’ the earth.”

A shadow crossed over his features, and she wondered what she’d now said to offend him.

“They obviously think more of ye than of I,” she said, hoping to alleviate the tension she didn’t quite understand.

He cracked a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Was he truly offended by her words? Or was he still upset about her pretending to be a mermaid to Jowan Cardy?

Guilt swirled in the pit of her stomach. Katherine Cardy still eyed her with disdain each day in the cellars, and Jowan had taken to scowling at Morvoren instead of watching her with fearful admiration.

Would that she could take back all her foolish actions.

Desperate to recreate the pleasant atmosphere they’d had before, she peered at the section he mended, then at her own. “We be nearly finished.”

He nodded. “Yes. Thank ye for your ’elp.”

Still rigid.

She pulled in her lips. “Perhaps we ought to race to see who can finish their nettin’ first.”

Finally, he glanced up at her, his dark eyes lit with amusement. “Don’t ye think that might be a bit unfair? I am more experienced, ye know.”

“But I’ve only a single row left. Ye’ve got at least two that be double the size.” He remained silent, and she shrugged. “Suit yourself. I just ne’er thought I’d see Trevik Honeysett back down from a simple challenge.”

He raised a daring brow and finally took her bait. “Very well, then. We race.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he ducked his head down and went straight to work. Morvoren laughed as she did the same.

Together, they worked alongside each other, but she didn’t realize how close they’d drawn together until her elbow grazed against his.

Forcing away the chutes of warmth sailing up her arm, she focused on the meshes she created. One, two, three. She glanced over at Trevik’s. He was nearly finished with an entire row.

“How have ye done so many already?” she exclaimed in despair.

He merely laughed.

“Ye be right. ’Tisn’t fair,” she said. “I think I’d like to end the race now.”

“Ye can’t. This be more ’an fair, since ye were the one who extended the challenge.”

She huffed, hunkering down in hopes of making her fingers move faster.

“Them ’oles need to be small enough for a pilchard to be caught,” Trevik said, apparently catching a glimpse of her work. “Those be large enough to catch another fish your size.”

She laughed. “Ye just focus on your own tyin’, sir.”

They worked swiftly, neither of them saying a word until Morvoren trapped her finger in one of the knots.