“It can’t.”
“But it could.”
“It cannot.”
“Why not?”
“Esrom doesn’t have that long.”
Silence.
“All right,” said Arabessa slowly, “and what happens if you don’t return the stone in time, for you, I mean?”
“Why are you so pessimistic?” Niya frowned.
“I’m a realist.”
“A real pessimist.”
“Niya,” interjected Zimri. “What would that mean for you?”
She was hesitant to meet any of their gazes. “Another year aboard the Crying Queen.”
“Another year!” exclaimed her sisters.
“But it won’t come to that,” Niya added quickly. “We know where the final piece resides. You heard Alōs say it himself.” She turned to Larkyra and Arabessa. “It’s on Hallowed Island. He thinks the chief there might have it.”
“By the lost gods.” Zimri sat back in his chair. “Are you certain?”
“Quite,” said Niya, glancing at the concerned expressions around the room. “I know they are giants, but they can’t be as bad as all that . . . can they?”
“What do you know of giants?” asked Zimri.
“They are slow and dumb.”
“Storybook nonsense,” replied her father. “They are giants; one of their steps is ten of ours.”
“And dumb?” Niya dared to ask.
“They are about as clever as they come, especially with their food. Like a cat with a mouse. They play before they eat.”
“Wonderful.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Let me guess: they are also gifted.”
“No, giants do not hold magic,” said her father.
A wash of relief flowed over her.
“But that hardly matters when not even your own powers will do much against them,” he added.
“How is that possible?” Niya drew her brows together. “I’m part of the Mousai.”
“Yes, and they are giants, my dear,” said Dolion. “The larger the creature, the more gifts needed to control them. And they are very large indeed. You would need a handful of gifted souls to go up against one; otherwise it’s like a fly trying to fell a human with the wind from its wings—useless.”
Cold dread settled in her chest. “Well, sticks.”
“Zimri, can you retrieve one of our maps of Hallowed Island?” Dolion sat forward, clearing the low table between them. “If you’re going into a den of giants—”
“Giant cannibals,” corrected Larkyra brightly.
“Smart, fast, immune-to-the-gifts, giant cannibals,” added Arabessa.
“Yes, thank you,” grumbled Niya.
“You should be as prepared as you can,” Dolion went on. “I think one of our maps has the location of their village.”
Zimri stretched out a chart of the Obasi Sea. A small island rested in the center. Scratches of information marked over its land.
“Yes, here.” Her father pointed to a cluster of buildings right in the middle of the island. “Now”—he breathed—“let’s figure out the best way for you to get in and out without being eaten.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Alōs stood at the banister of his quarterdeck, looking through his spotting scope at Hallowed Island—a thick, tangled mass of green on the horizon. Clouds of smoke drifted from a volcano at its center. This unpredictable beast was what made the spit of land so precious. The soil on Hallowed Island was rich from centuries of eruptions, causing an overwhelming abundance of rare foliage. The plants found here were rumored to be powerfully healing or fatal with one twist of a petal. A combination that made courageous fools of many, for to steal even a small sprig of the right specimen could fetch heavy coin in any kingdom’s underground market.
This very fact created the perfect excuse for sailing these waters. Alōs had hoped that giving his crew a task that promised riches would have them cooperating without question. He knew he had been pushing them these past few months, but there was no way around it.
Time was falling too quickly, and he was growing desperate to catch up.
Alōs collapsed his scope with a snap and tapped it on his palm, thinking.
He had ordered the Crying Queen to anchor a good deal away from Hallowed Island, so the ship would appear no bigger than a speck to any who might look out from its shores. Though giants were not known for keen eyesight, the sun was high, and Alōs would not chance being seen. They needed to breach the island safely and quietly. Alōs planned for them to approach by nightfall.
“I’ve instructed the crew of what’s to come once the sun sets.” Kintra appeared at his side, her gold earrings winking in the bright day.
“How much guff did they give?”
“Not much, which was surprising. But perhaps the reputation of the island’s inhabitants silenced anyone who might be annoyed at staying on board. A few still question how valuable the plants truly are, though, to have sailed nonstop for the past fortnight. Especially when none of us are lacking for coin.”
“We have not become the most profitable pirate ship by being lazy,” Alōs pointed out with a frown. “So now they complain of being too successful?”
Kintra leaned a hip against the railing beside him. “I think they are tired. And honestly, I was going to wait to say anything, but . . .”
A prickle of unease ran through him. “What?”
“A few have grown suspicious regarding our random choice of destinations over the past months,” Kintra explained. “Even you must admit our usual pace of travel is never like this.”
Great, thought Alōs, exactly what I need right now, a ship full of pirates asking questions. “Yes, well, usually we are not hunting down an object that continues to slip through our fingers,” he bit out, a new tension setting in along his shoulders.
“Usually you are not,” Kintra clarified.
He met his quartermaster’s brown gaze. “So what do you suggest, then? It’s not as if I can change where an old lady has dropped a necklace, Kintra.”
“No,” she agreed. “But perhaps it is time we tell the crew.”
He slammed his brows down, her words threatening to push him back a step. “Are you mad?” he hissed, glancing past her to make sure there were no nearby pirates.
“I don’t mean every detail,” said Kintra. “Merely that you need to find an item lost that holds importance to your old kingdom. Despite what you may think, many of us aboard this ship care for you as you care for us. I truly believe they would assist their captain in a task that was important to him. After all, you have helped many of us at one time or another. Or have you forgotten?”
Of course Alōs had not forgotten. Many of those deeds were what had had those aboard agreeing to become a part of the Crying Queen. But still . . . what Kintra suggested was madness. Wasn’t it? Alōs glanced to the island in the distance. There were already too many unknown variables ahead; could he really add on the unpredictability of pirates learning what he was after? An item he needed more than the ship beneath his feet or the entire lot of them.
Despite his crew knowing his old standing in Esrom, this particular secret he had held so close for so long he did not know how to even begin to set it free.
“It’s too risky,” he found himself saying.
“More risky than a crew no longer believing in their captain?”
His magic chilled along his skin at her words. “That is not what is happening.”
“Not yet,” said Kintra before raising her hands in submission at his sharp glare. “I merely ask you to think about it.”
Alōs sighed, his sudden rage leaving him like the waves crashing away along the side of his ship. “I have no energy for this today.”
“I know.” His quartermaster drew closer, in the way that a friend would to comfort another merely by letting them know they were there.