Niya’s gaze swung to meet his, a ripple of unease in the air.
“What about me?” asked Kintra with mock offense, folding her arms. “Do you not care that I might know what’s going on?”
“Pshaw.” Therza waved her hand. “We all know you and the captain are thicker than lard from a pig’s rear. Ain’t nothing new there. But Red, here . . .” She pursed her lips, assessing her. “Changes have been afoot since you’ve stepped aboard, girl.”
“I would hope so,” said Niya coolly. “Most of you didn’t know how to properly use soap before I arrived.”
Despite her line of questioning, Therza responded with a chuckle.
“We don’t ask many questions of ya, Captain,” Boman chimed in, seeming to have now found his words. “You’ve never led us astray to need to. And we trust whatever’s brought us here is for a reason, an important one. More important than some silver gardening weeds can fetch us. We want ya to know ya can tell us, and that we can help.”
Silence followed as Alōs slid his gaze over his crew, each waiting for his reply. Some twisted their caps between their fingers, others glanced to the ground, and a few brave souls looked him square in the eye.
It had taken courage for them to come here, and a part of him was damn proud of that. He did not employ cowardly pirates. But at the moment he could have done without all of it.
Yet still, the usual rage he would expect himself to feel from such insubordination was void.
Instead he only became more exhausted.
More confused.
Despite what you may think—Kintra’s words from earlier awoke loud in his mind—many of us aboard this ship care for you.
His eyes roamed over his crew once more, an odd feeling slithering in his chest as he took in the men and women he had lived beside for years now. He knew most of their scars, warts, missing teeth, and individual odors better than any of the people from the kingdom he’d once called home.
They were now his family.
The thought unsettled him. Despite how long he might have known it. Silently, in his cold, dead heart, for this way only lay more duty, more vulnerabilities.
Could he risk letting these pirates get any closer?
Despite what Kintra declared, could those like himself really put aside their own ambition to care for others?
The riffraff. The abandoned and banished. The immoral and selfish.
The monsters.
Alōs looked to Niya then, a now-familiar warmth blooming in his chest.
Yes, a voice whispered in his mind. Here is proof someone like yourself can care about another.
A vision of Ariōn swam before him next, then his kingdom.
All these pieces he had seen as weaknesses, but for the first time Alōs now understood how they were strengths. They were reasons to burn bright, mighty, just as the fire dancer did so openly for her family—for they were people to fight for. Purposes to live for.
We want ya to know ya can tell us, and that we can help.
Were his pirates searching for this purpose? A family to protect, a reason beyond treasure to remain sailing the endless sea? Or had they already found it? And Alōs was the last of their kind to see clearly.
It was a lot to reconcile, years of calluses to soften from the fated aftermath of the hand he’d been dealt, but nevertheless he found himself turning to his awaiting pirates, and whether it was from these new realizations or because he truly was at the end of his rope, Alōs threw away careful planning in substitute for what felt right in the moment.
Which was a version of the truth.
“You really want to know what brings us to these waters?” asked Alōs, leaning forward. “Fine, I’ll tell you lot, but I can’t tell you everything. And I don’t want to hear any sniveling about that.” He looked each one in the eye, receiving quick nods of understanding. “And when I’m through telling you what I deem enough, I don’t want any more questions. Perhaps in time, if events turn out, I will, but for now this isn’t story time. You hear?”
The room was filled with aye, Cap’ns.
Alōs stood then, and as he did, he sent a wave of his cool magic through the space. A bite of cold, of intimidation. Remember who’s in power here, the gesture silently said.
He turned to look out his window, to the blue expanse lit by the morning sun. The water glistened brightly, a merry dance of light that sparkled in stark contradiction to his somber thoughts. “I look for an item that is important to Esrom,” he began. “Important to prevent a death that I cannot let happen. I may no longer live there, but this I am duty bound to fix more than any other atrocity I have ever committed in Aadilor.” He turned to look at his pirates. “And you all know what sort of actions I am capable of.”
He watched Bree and Green Pea share a glance, shifting feet.
“My time is running out, however.” He gestured to the silver sandglass on his desk, to the never-ending trickles of grains counting down his failure. “Which is why we’ve been sailing like storms were chasing us, as you put it, Therza.” He looked to the woman, who stood listening intently. “The item is said to be on this island, and since we are no longer standing on pretenses, I of course will not ask any of you to come ashore. But I must, and will, alone. Well, alone, except for with Niya.”
All eyes turned to her then, which she met head-on. A warrior.
If Alōs were in a different mood, he would have smiled.
“As you know, she is blessed with the lost gods’ gifts, as gifted in powers as I.”
One of her brows arched as she met his gaze. “I’d beg to argue a bit more gifted in powers than you.”
“Yes, you would beg that,” he replied, knowing silent amusement danced in his features, before looking back at his crew. “So she has the abilities needed to get what I seek. She has been brought here to help,” he explained. “In ways unfortunately none of you are able. This is my burden to fix, you see. I have merely hoped to find advantages for all of you along the way. Once this is done, well, if you want off this ship, I will not stop you. But know all that I have spoken is true, and currently it is all I can share.”
The room filled up with silence then, a tense vibration of blinking eyes and steady breaths.
Here it was—the most Alōs had ever confided in his crew, the most he had ever put on the line in front of them.
His heart pounded with uncertainty the longer everything hung in silence. But he was used to starting over, if that was what his current actions caused, having his pirates sail all over Aadilor for his needs and his needs alone—so be it.
To find the rest of the Prism Stone and save Esrom from surfacing, save his brother from what this cruel world had in store for him, Alōs would start over again and again and again.
“How precious are these plants again?” asked Boman, the first to speak.
Alōs met the old man’s dark eyes, a hint of a smile in them, of understanding.
The look set off a wave of shocked relief.
“A single stalk of most would pull in a clean bag of silver, others maybe two,” answered Kintra.
Therza whistled. “My, my, perhaps that is worth a trip to the beach, despite any hungry giants lurking about.”
“Aye,” said Emanté from where he hung in the back of the group, his massive shirtless form taking up the width of two men. “I’ve never cared about what’s between me and more coin. Anything to add to my investments, I am happy to oblige.”
A few more of the crew nodded and mumbled their agreement.
Alōs took it all in, silent, amazed.
Dare he even say grateful?
Kintra had been right.
They care.
As you care, a voice replied from deep inside him.
Alōs drew his brows together. How much he was changing.
“We thanks ya, Captain, for this opportunity.” Boman brought his attention back to the group. “I’ll be sure to prepare the boats for whoever still wants to go pull some weeds tonight. And understand if you and Red here go looking for more rare ones deeper in.” His eyes glimmered with silent words. We still stand with you.