He shrugs. “Well enough. Why?”
I have to be careful. I need to make the conversation seem harmless. He needs to think it’s all about me. “My father trusts me more than he does anyone else in the world, yet I can’t help but feel like he keeps secrets from me.”
“Everybody has their secrets. We would all feel too exposed if we weren’t able to keep things to ourselves.”
“What are—” No, I can’t ask Riden about his own secrets. I need to keep the conversation focused. “But this feels different. Couldn’t you tell when your father was keeping things from you? Big things?”
“Yes, usually.”
“My father had a hiding place on his ship, a loose floorboard in his rooms. He would keep important things there. When I felt like he wasn’t telling me everything, I could usually find his plans and secrets there.” I’m making this all up quickly. I hope Riden can’t tell.
In truth, my father has a room he alone enters at the keep. His private getaway. I’ve been tempted many times to sneak in. I even made an attempt once. When Father found me outside fiddling with the lock, he said if I was so interested in his locked doors, he’d put me behind one.
And he did. In a cell deep down. For a month.
“But then one day,” I continue, “the space below the floorboard was empty. And nothing has been kept there ever since.”
“He found you out.”
“Or suspected what I was up to and didn’t want to take any chances.”
Though he seems natural, relaxed—Riden has to be holding on to my every word. There’s no chance he isn’t hoping I’ll tell him some of my father’s secrets. But that’s not the purpose of this conversation. I’m trying to learn Lord Jeskor’s secrets.
“What about your father?” I ask. “Did he have a place where he kept secrets? Did you ever learn something you weren’t supposed to?” Do you know where he hid his section of the map?
“Honestly, I was never curious enough to care. When we were younger, Draxen would coax me into helping him find secret panels belowdecks. It never turned out to be profitable, though.”
I can relate. I’ve already been through all of those panels.
I can’t deny I enjoy talking with Riden, but I was really hoping for something useful to come out of the conversation. Something that would make me realize exactly where the map is.
I should have known better.
“Besides, if there was anything so important to my father, he probably wouldn’t have let it out of his sight. He likely would have kept it on him at all times. And Draxen and I were never foolish enough to try stealing something off him.”
Oh.
Chapter 13
RIDEN LEAVES TO FIND me some breakfast. Meanwhile, I ponder on my own stupidity.
Of course you would keep something so valuable on your person at all times.
After Jeskor died, his sons would have searched his body. They would have found the map. Draxen is one of the greediest men I’ve ever met. If he didn’t already know what the map was, he would have done everything he could to find out. And once he did—
Draxen’s despicable and abusive and manipulative. He’s the last thing I’d ever want to touch on this ship.
Perhaps that’s why I never thought to check if he carries the map on him. Of course he would. Where else would you keep something you don’t want anyone else to find? I’ll bet that’s the real reason why Riden and Draxen rebelled against their father, tried to take the ship, and ended up slaughtering the original crew. How could it be over anything less than the map that leads to the treasure of a thousand ages?
To think, I might’ve been so close to it so very many times.
But it could be anywhere on him. Any pocket on his coat, shirt, breeches. Even tucked into his underthings. Oh, I truly hope it’s not there.
Unfortunately for me, there’s only one way to find out.
I’ve no choice but to seduce the captain.
I hate doing that. But how else am I to get him alone? I could wait until tonight when he’s asleep, but I don’t want to waste what little is left of my song to keep him asleep. Draxen may be a deeper sleeper than Riden, but how could anyone stay asleep while someone is stripping them of all their clothing?
No, I need to act now. As soon as Riden returns.
I cannot risk getting to the checkpoint without already having the map to present to my father.
Time to use more of what Mother gave me.
*
Riden comes back with breakfast: more eggs. I eat quickly, then I tell him, “I want to go outside today.”
“Why?” he asks suspiciously.
“Because I’ve been cooped up in here like some child’s pet, and I want out.”
“If you’re out on the deck, the captain will expect you to work.”
“Fine.”
Riden fumbles with the empty dish in his hand but catches it before it connects with the ground. “What did you say?”
“I said fine. Is there something wrong with your ears?”
“I was under the impression you didn’t do anything that involved getting your clothes dirty.”
“I learned as a little girl that pirating means being filthy from time to time. You just have to be rich enough to afford regular bathing and several changes of clothes. Speaking of which, I want a new outfit.”
“But you’re going to get dirty.”
“I know that, but I’ve already been in this one for too many days.” Enwen’s been bringing me new clothes since I was moved to Riden’s room. It’s very thoughtful of him, but I don’t have the time to wait around for him to decide to bring me more. I need to be clean and fresh when I seduce Draxen.
“All right, I’ll go grab you something,” Riden says.
“No, I want you to bring all my things.”
He snorts. “Not a chance. Who knows what else you’re hiding in there? You’ll get one outfit and one outfit alone.”
Enwen didn’t grant that request, either, but it was worth a try.
“Fine,” I say, “bring me the green one.”
“The green one?”
“Yes, you’ll know it when you see it. And I want a fresh blouse and leggings.”
“Anything else? Some undergarments, perhaps?”
“I wouldn’t dream of giving you the satisfaction.”
He laughs. “You can’t exactly stop me, now, can you?”
He leaves much too quickly for me to believe he’s simply doing a lady a favor. Too eager, he was. Perhaps he didn’t want to listen to my arguments. Or it’s the thrill of going through my underthings.
“What is this?” Riden demands some time later. He doesn’t even bother to shut the door behind him when reentering.
“My clothing,” I respond. “Honestly, Riden, have you forgotten the names of—”
“No,” he says, cutting off my rather witty remark. “This is not clothing. This wouldn’t cover a child.”
“It stretches, you dolt.”