“That’s a very important job.” He’s not faking how impressed he is.
My temper fades as I stare at Riden a bit longer. Something in my chest moves as I see him talking with little Roslyn. It’s endearing.
I blink twice. No, not endearing. He’s as bloody annoying as ever. And he does not dictate who stays and goes on my ship.
“Allemos,” I snap in my captain’s voice.
The two turn my way. Riden raises a brow at the use of his surname, which I’ve only ever used once before. When he was in trouble.
“Aye, Captain?” he asks.
“Captain? Who made you part of the crew?”
“You did.”
At my confused look, he says, “In exchange for my brother’s life.”
Well, yes, but that was when his brother needed to stay locked in the keep for appearance’s sake. They’re both free now. He can’t expect me to hold him to that. Does he think me so cold?
“Your debt to me is paid,” I say. “You’re free to leave.”
“Paid how?”
“Through your help freeing the siren.”
He pauses for only the space of a breath. “But she got away. Until we find her again, I don’t see how I can leave. Just wouldn’t be honorable.”
I’m about to open my mouth to comment on just how honorable I think he is, when he speaks again.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay.”
He wants to be here, I realize. And I can’t think of any nefarious reasons for him to wish to stay. His brother is safe. Isn’t that what he’s always wanted? To stay by his brother’s side and make sure spoiled Draxen gets his way?
So then why would he stay? For the treasure?
Warmth blooms in my chest at the next possibility: Could it be for me?
And, the bigger question: Do I want it to be for me?
I can’t even begin to figure out the answer to that question.
So I lie. “It hardly matters to me one way or the other. But if you choose to stay, you’d better carry your own weight. I’ll have no laziness on this ship.”
“Of course not, Captain. Where would you like me?”
“Since you enjoy spending so much time with Roslyn, you can join the riggers. Hop to it.”
“That’s the most dangerous job on the ship,” he says. It’s less an argument than a statement.
“You start at the bottom and work your way up on my crew.”
“Enwen and Kearan didn’t.”
Roslyn has her dagger back out. “The captain gave you an order, sailor.”
“Yes, thank you, Roslyn,” I say. “Let’s put that dagger away for now. Do I need to have another talk with your father?”
“No, Captain,” she says before scurrying up the netting.
Riden looks after her. “She’s awfully young to be on a pirate ship.”
“Aren’t we all?”
*
There’s a spring in my step as I turn for the companionway. We’re under way now. Our next stop, the Isla de Canta, where riches and glory await. I find myself humming as I reach the top of the steps, but then I halt.
“Really now, Kearan,” I say. He’s facedown on the ground. Likely passed out in his own vomit, yet again. This can’t continue. I’ll have to think of some fitting punishment for him. I couldn’t care less what he does in his free time, but when he’s on duty, he’d better be ready to perform at his best.
Suddenly his whole body jerks upward, and I take a step back in case he’s having some sort of sleeping fit.
“Three,” he says on a raspy breath before leaning down to the ground again.
Is he sleep talking? He’s been known to do that even with his eyes open. No, wait—“Are you doing push-ups?” I ask.
“F-f-four,” he says as he rises again.
“Sweet stars, you are. What’s gotten into you?”
After five, he lies on the ground and rolls onto his back, breathing heavily. “Just passing the time, is all. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”
Yes, but he usually passes the time with drink.
He reaches into one of his pockets. Ah, there he is.
But what he pulls out isn’t a flask.
It’s a canteen. The kind we use on the ship for storing water. He sits up and takes a few sips.
“What’s in that?”
He holds the canteen out to me, and I take a sniff. It’s water.
“She dumped all of my flasks into the sea while I slept,” Kearan says. “Didn’t realize she cared so much.” He searches across the ship for Sorinda, but she must be belowdecks because he focuses on me once more. “Any more questions, Captain?” His tone sounds bored.
“Are we headed in the right direction?”
“Course, I’m keeping her steady.”
“Good,” I say before moving on quickly.
Lest Kearan break into song or sprout wings.
*
As I exit my quarters the next morning, a black-and-yellow bird perches on the railing at the starboard side, a scroll of paper tied to its left foot.
I don’t need to guess who sent the letter.
Though it’s not addressed to anyone and it bears no signature, I recognize my father’s neat writing.
You took something that belongs to me. Return it immediately, and I’ll make sure your punishment is swift.
Return it, as though my mother were some prized possession and not a living being. Heat snakes up my neck, but it’s not because of his careless phrasing. Where’s the explanation I’m owed? Is he not going to even attempt to tell me why he lied for years? Why he kept my mother hidden from me? Kalligan is a master at twisting words together. He’s not even trying to sway me to his side.
The briefness of the letter can mean only one of two things. Either he’s furious to the point where most words have left him, or he knows I can’t be reasoned with after what I’ve learned. Either way, I know the letter is a lie. I don’t believe for a second that any punishment he could fathom would be swift.
The yano bird waits patiently, but I have no intention of sending a response. I know silence is the best way to push my father. Let him stew over the loss of his siren.
Over the loss of me.
I wonder which upsets him more.
I was his means of making it to and from the Isla de Canta alive. My female crew and I are the only ones resistant to siren song. Vordan was wrong about Kalligan having a device to protect him. My father and I have always suspected he is immune to my abilities because of the blood we share. But his immunity should only apply to me. Any other siren shouldn’t have a problem enchanting him. That makes him vulnerable on the Isla de Canta.
And now that he’s lost me, he will have to figure things out on his own.
I shoo the bird with my hands. It squawks as it flies into the air, retreating northeast. It’s easy to forget danger is near when one cannot see it, but that bird won’t fly long before it lands on the deck of the Dragon’s Skull.
“Trouble?” asks a voice.
A masculine voice.
Riden’s voice.
“Nothing new,” I say. “The pirate king wants his siren back.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I didn’t deign to respond.”
“That ought to cheer him up.”
He’s trying to make light of the situation. Trying to make light of our situation, but I’m not having any of it.
“What do you want, Riden?”
“Right now? Nothing.”