Ives sat cross-legged on a large rock, chucking stones into the water. “May the best pair win today’s challenge.”
Ostap pirouetted into the water, flinging droplets around him. He turned, catching Fiona’s eye, and bowed a sarcastic bow. “Milady.”
Rohan leaned close to her ear. “We need to be paired up. I don’t trust either of them.”
“Neither do I. But Nod will make the call, and I don’t think he’s going to ask for our opinions.”
He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
She rubbed a knot in her shoulder. How was she supposed to make it through this task with the screaming pain in her muscles? For the past twenty-four hours, Lir had been unrelenting with his training demands: swimming before dawn, six-mile runs, sword fighting all afternoon, and all night he made her climb up and down the shrouds while reciting sailing lore. He seemed to have forgotten that she was only human and needed rest, but it wasn’t like she could complain. He would’ve just called her soft and told her to go home.
Footsteps sounded on the rocks as Nod led the Guardians to the beach. Striding into the sage-green water, he surveyed his recruits. “The four of you will sail around the island in a race. There are no rules. Your only task is to win. Ives, you’re with Rohan on the Kraken. Fiona goes with Ostap on the Old Roger.”
Fiona’s stomach turned a flip. With Ostap? The tattooed psychopath?
Rohan stepped forward. “Captain. I think I should be with Fiona.”
Marlowe glared at Rohan, pointing a long finger. “The Captain made his decision,” he snapped, having lost all patience with his recruit.
Apart from the lapping ocean waves, silence descended while Nod stared at Rohan. Wind rushed over the island’s surface, dappling the sea with little cat’s-paws. The Captain prowled through the water, rubbing the finger bone he wore around his neck. “And why is that?”
“The others accuse her of murder. I think they might let her die, even if it meant losing.”
“That’s an outrageous accusation!” shouted Ostap.
“Paranoia won’t win you any favors,” muttered Ives.
Nod rubbed his chin. “I appreciate your bluntness, Rohan. Fine. Go with her on the Old Roger. It’s only because I like the girl.”
Fiona turned to Rohan, mouthing thank you.
They waded into the shallow waters, and Fiona climbed onto the Old Roger, extending a hand to Rohan. “I can be the crew if you want to take the lead as skipper. You’ve saved my ass twice now. You deserve a little glory.”
“You’d have done the same for me.”
She liked to think she would have, but who knew what she was capable of when it came to self-preservation. “Well, one of us has to steer. Go for it.” She nodded to the helm.
Leaning over the ship’s side, she pulled up the anchor, her eyes meeting Lir’s. He was beginning to seem trustworthy, but it was hard to be sure. She definitely wasn’t ready to tell him about her dad.
She blinked, forcing herself to focus on the trial. It was just as Lir had said—another loss and Nod would send her home. And desperate as she was to see Tobias again, she didn’t want to find out what Estelle would do if Fiona came crawling back to her shores, powerless to fight her. A psychopath, a failure, and a reject. Christ.
Rohan steered the boat to line up with the Kraken. Unlucky for her, they were stuck on the outside, which meant a longer distance around the island.
On the rocky shore, Nod held a pistol in the air. “Are you ready to entertain me, recruits?” He pulled the trigger and a shot rang through the air.
Fiona mentally ran through her training with Lir. The cord—no, the halyard. She grasped the rope, raising the sail in a few strong pulls while Rohan pumped the tiller back and forth. Slowly, the sail swelled, and they glided forward.
Over the gunnel, Fiona could see clear into the depths—crab, lobsters and seaweed sped past. Wind swelled the Old Roger’s sails, and they cruised along, flush with the Kraken.
From the other boat, Ostap grinned, rubbing his crotch. “Don’t work too hard, ladies. Let the men take control.”
Gross. There was something really wrong with him. No wonder Loukomourie wanted to get rid of him.
Fiona stared ahead, trying to concentrate on the water. As they approached the island’s northern shore, a dangerous shoal came into view. Jagged boulders jutted from the surface, threatening serious damage to the keel.
“Look out for rocks,” shouted Rohan. “If we hit one, we’ll be stove in.”
Swiftly reaching for the rope, Fiona adjusted the mainsail, peering over the side. Just ahead, a huge boulder humped from the water’s surface like a hippo’s back.
“Boulder on the port side,” she yelled. Rohan shoved the tiller and they glided to the right, narrowly avoiding the rock. Fiona loosened her grip on the mainsheet, easing a little wind out of the sail.
Rohan squinted in the setting sun. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to hit a rock if we don’t slow down.”