“I don’t know, do I?” Jagger said, jaw clenched. The hand holding the blade against Caspian’s neck trembled. “They were taken from me.”
Ebba stepped closer, ready to intervene. He was tainted. Who knew if he was currently in control or not. Though he wasn’t edgy as he’d been below deck a few days earlier.
“I don’t know why my father did the things he did,” Caspian said, swallowing hard against the gleaming sword at his throat. “I am trying to figure it out with the veritas though. I need answers just as much as you.”
Is that what the prince had been doing alone all this time? Trying to use the truth sword to understand his father?
Plank circled behind Jagger. “Caspian’s father was killed by pirates. Can’t that be enough for ye?”
“Mayhaps ye could be sorrowful for what he be goin’ through?” Locks suggested.
Jagger scowled. “Montcroix got what he deserved.”
The prince flinched and turned his head away. He took several harsh breaths before answering the pirate in a whisper. “I’m not sure that he didn’t.”
Ebba whistled silently. Caspian thought his father deserved being killed? That was . . . unexpected. And spoke for the dark place he was currently in.
Stubby rested a hand on his shoulder. “He was yer father, lad. Even if he made mistakes, many mistakes, ye can still love him. Ye can even dislike him at the same time. And ye can certa’nly miss him every day as much as ye need. Sorting through all that will take a bit. Ain’t no rush.”
Dull amber eyes perused Stubby, unresponsive. Blasted Jagger. Just when she’d thought Caspian was getting better. Her temper rose to a simmer and she struggled to hold onto the frayed edges, catching sight of Grubby trying to twist his hands off in agitation. Tension rested over Felicity’s deck like a thick blanket.
Casting her mind frantically about, Ebba peered at the blackening sky. “Who be on night shift?”
She casually walked to the prince and dragged him several paces away from the blade, continuing to peer at the sky.
“Ye need somethin’ a smidgen stronger to distract from a death threat, lass,” Peg-leg said. “Try a fire or cutting the sheets next time.”
Ebba pursed her lips. “What about seeing somethin’ in the water?”
“Might work,” he answered after a beat. “But only if ye really sell it. Remember, ye need to put yer whole body into the motion, not just a surprised voice.”
“I’d swing the boom at one o’ yer other fathers’ heads,” Locks added, then frowned. “Perhaps not Grubs. Not sure he can do with another hit.”
The others scowled at him.
“Come on, lad,” Peg-leg said to Caspian. “Let’s get ye somethin’ to eat down in the hold.” Throwing an arm around the prince’s shoulders, the cook led him away.
Grubby stepped forward. “I’ll do the night shift.”
She smiled at her youngest father. “That was just a ploy to get Caspian away from—”
“Okay,” Stubby blurted.
In the time it took her to spin in a full circle, the others were gone, leaving her with Grubby and Jagger.
Ebba shouted at their backs, “Ye ain’t allowed to take adv’ntage, ye spineless codfishes!”
No answer. She could guarantee it wasn’t Grubby’s turn, judging by Stubby’s hasty agreement.
“I’ll do the night shift,” she declared, walking over to squeeze her father’s hand.
He smiled his token toothless grin. “Nay, Ebba-Viva. I’ll do it just like I said. Don’t ye be worryin’ about it.”
She heard the strain beneath his words. He’d be anxious about annoying her other fathers.
“Okay,” she answered, trying to keep the irritation at the rest of the crew from her voice. “But I’ll be takin’ yer next shift, no discu’sion about it.”
Caspian wasn’t dead. Grubby wasn’t anxious. The next part of the weapon was definitely in the Dynami Sea. That only left one mess made by Jagger that she had to clean up.
As she strode away to find Barrels and soothe his hurt feelings over their reading lesson, the flaxen sod fell into step beside her.
“Can ye trust the halfwit not to lead us astray?” he asked as they neared the bilge door.
Her simmering temper exploded into a full boil. Ebba saw crimson. Whipping the dagger out of her sash, she rushed the taller man, surprising him enough that he stumbled back at her attack. Ebba extended her arm high, the dagger just under the pirate’s throat as veritas had been against Caspian’s.
Jagger swallowed, the lump in his throat rising and falling, but she didn’t release the digging pressure.
Ebba breathed hard through her scalding fury. “Call my father ‘halfwit’ again, and I’ll kill ye. I swear I will. Ye be on our ship, Jagger. Mind yer tongue if ye wish to stay alive.”
The smirk spreading across his face wasn’t as satisfactory of a reply as she would wish.
“And don’t kill Caspian,” she hissed, digging the dagger in harder. “The sea be makin’ him better; don’t get in the way.”
“Ye think the sea be makin’ him better?”
She stalled at the amusement in his gaze. “What?”
“It ain’t the sea,” he gasped against the jagged blade. “It’s ye. And the hope for more.”
It . . . it was? But she and Caspian were very clear about the terms of their kiss. Or were the pirate’s words just the start of another Jagger headache?
“Shut yer gob,” she snarled at him, the furious fire in her words faded. “Just leave him be.”
Jagger arched a brow, too calm, as though he didn’t have a sharpened blade at his throat. “Should I kiss him instead?”
Ebba was just angry enough to shove down her mortification and return his smirk in full measure. “Nay, Jagger. For he’ll be busy kissin’ me.”
The pirate blinked slowly, and she pulled away the dagger, shoving him back against the bilge door.
Jagger watched her with a hooded gaze, stepping clear as she made to wrench the door open and hit him with it.
Ebba held her head high as she leaped onto the rungs of the ladder and gripped the sides to slide to the bottom. Glancing back up, she caught sight of Jagger peering down after her.
Holding his gaze, she very deliberately wiped her hands off on her slops.
Seven
Stretching, her jaw cracking with the whale of all yawns, Ebba called through the sleeping quarters, “Mornin’.”
She smiled as Barrels’ wheezing snore halted for a second before resuming.
Ebba tilted her head back and squinted up at the mini-hammock swinging over her head. Empty. Where was Sal?
Groaning, she swung and leaped from her hammock, landing on soft feet. If the sprite was in the grog, Ebba would tie her to the hammock at night. She grabbed her brown leather jerkin from the day before—and the day before that—and slid it over her frayed linen shirt. Fishing in her trunk, she pulled out the first piece of material her fingers encountered, grimacing as they also brushed the flax pouch containing the beads.
Ebba squinted at the material as she yanked it out. A green sash to match her eyes. She didn’t often wear sashes to hold her hair back, usually opting for a bandana instead. The ends of the longer material flying across her face in the wind irked her, but today felt and sounded calm enough.
She fastened the green sash around her hairline, half over her forehead and half over her dreads, knotting the sash at the base of her skull to one side. She let the ends trail over her shoulder.
Her hands fell to her sides, and she halted.
The sea was oddly tranquil today.
The southern seas were generally rough. The closer they sailed to the Dynami Sea, the bigger the swells would become. So why was the sea so still?
Ebba smelled fish stew.
Leaving her slumbering fathers, she hustled up the ladder and flung the bilge door open, looking out over the starboard side. The sea was too light, dark blue where it should be blue-black.
Ebba shut the bilge door and turned to look port side.
Her jaw dropped. “Shite.”
She lost no time wrenching open the door again. “Show a leg, lads,” she shouted.
Ebba shook her head and glanced over the bulwark a final time to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
“What be amiss, lass?” Locks croaked from below.
She sighed. “We’re at Neos.”
That got them moving. She left the bilge door open and started searching the ship for Grubby who’d been on night watch.
“Flamin’ eejit,” Stubby seethed, appearing from below deck. “He went for a damn swim instead of watchin’ where we were headed.”
Ebba pressed a finger to her lips as her mind worked. “Nay, Stubs. We be anchored.”
“Over here,” Plank called from the helm.
They raced to the helm where Grubby was tied to the wheel.
“Mornin’,” he said cheerfully.
Her eyes narrowed, and Ebba gritted her teeth as the answer came to her. “Where be Jagger?” He wasn’t just insulting Grubby last night—or at all. He’d been testing the damn waters.
Her fathers lifted their heads, exchanging looks.
“Shite,” Locks howled at the sky. “He’s gone to look for his bloody tribe again.”
“I knew he was offerin’ up the hammock to Caspian too easy-like. We shouldn’t’ve left him on deck,” Peg-leg said, the hand that often gripped his cooking machete tightening.
“He knows Ladon and his snakes have taken over the island. Why has he gone there?” Ebba stared at Neos mountain, just visible in the distance.
Stubby lifted a shoulder. “If ye were on there, nothin’ could keep me away. Canny bugger, keepin’ us off the scent of his plan by playin’ up against Caspian yesterday.”
If that was what he’d been doing, Ebba had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
“It’s gone,” Caspian said from behind. He stood at the top of the bilge door, russet hair disheveled from sleep. “He took the purgium.”
“But he can’t touch it,” Plank said. “He’s tainted like the rest o’ us.”
“I can’t find it anywhere,” Caspian said, running a hand through his hair. “It was on me, in my hand as I fell asleep last night. I’m so sorry. I—”
Barrels lifted a hand. “It’s hardly your fault. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We were all tricked.”
“The veritas is still here.” Caspian’s quiet voice interrupted her musing.
Well, Jagger could hardly hold two. But Plank was right, Jagger couldn’t touch the purgium. He’d die—or risk dying at least. Though he’d traipsed off to Neos, so clearly he was willing to risk his life anyway. However, the much likelier answer was—
“Sally,” she said through gritted teeth. “Sally be gone. She took the purgium from ye and went with Jagger.”
Barrels glanced at her. “She’s not passed out in a grog barrel?”
It was possible. . . .
“I’ll go and check,” Peg-leg said.
Plank sighed as Peg-leg hobbled away with the customary tap-tap-tap of his wooden limb. “At least he anchored us far enough away from Neos that Ladon’s snakes can’t reach us.”
“Ladon is surely more powerful-like by now,” Locks countered. “Jagger can’t’ve known how far away we were last time. He took a mighty risk by placin’ us here without us knowin’. The snakes could’ve overrun us as we slept.”
Her fathers’ faces settled into grim lines.
“He’s clearly where he wants to be,” said Ebba. “Let’s leave him.” Though even as she said the words, an odd pang twanged in her gut.
She’d never been good at leaving people behind, but her surprise couldn’t be stronger to find that included Jagger too.
Barrels exhaled loudly. “No, my dear. Not only does Jagger have Sally, he has the purgium and, as we found yesterday, we need Jagger’s help to find the next part. I’m afraid he’s got us trapped.”
Ebba thumped her closed fist atop the bulwark. “Ye’re right.”
She glared at the Neos shore, only a thin strip of gray from where they were anchored. “How long will he be? We’re grazin’ seahorses.”
Locks hummed in agreement. “Aye, I don’t be liking the exp’sure with the most powerful and darkest magical power o’ all time after us.”
“Nay,” they all muttered.
A terrible, ground-cracking rumble rent the air. Ebba stilled alongside her fathers, staring at Neos.
She whispered, “Do ye hear—”
The movement under the ship changed abruptly, and Ebba hastened to peer over the bulwark. Curved rivulets had appeared in the previously tranquil waters. The rivulets grew to small waves moving away from the island, slapping against Felicity’s sides in their haste to escape. The ship pitched as the waves grew larger, and she widened her stance.
Peg-leg reappeared from the hold as the waves smoothed out again. “What was that?”
Ebba focused on the island before them, which now appeared hazy. “Was it an earthshake, Barrels?”
“I’m not sure, my dear. It didn’t last very long, if so.”
Plank came to stand beside her, squinting at Neos. “Wait, look at the mountaintop. Can ye see anythin’ strange?”
She shifted her gaze to the center of the island where, she knew from horrible experience, the mountain sat. Though. . . . “Where be the mountain?”
“Aye, little nymph. That be my point.”
Ebba blurted, “Ye don’t think Jagger and Sally did that, do ye?” She backtracked. “Ye think the noise was the mountain tumblin’ down?”
Surely even Sally’s glowing magic wasn’t that strong. And neither Jagger or the purgium could have caused such damage.
“Nay,” Plank said, tilting his head, “I be thinkin’ the rumble we heard was Ladon himself. Maybe he brought down the mountain.”
Ebba gawked at Neos, her gut twinging.
Grubby’s voice broke the stupor that had settled over the ship and all its occupants. “Could someone untie me? I’m hungry.”
“Sorry, Grubs,” Locks said hastily.
He unraveled the rope and Ebba’s part-selkie father stood, coming to stand on her other side.
“Grubby, do ye remember what happened?” Ebba asked. She shot a cursory glance at her other fathers and saw her sheepishness reflected on their faces. They’d forgotten Grubby was actually on deck at the time.
“Oh, aye, Ebba-Viva. Jagger said he was goin’ to defeat Ladon to save his people, and would I be so good as to let him tie me to the wheel for a time. I said, ‘Aye, of course, I hope ever’thin’ be goin’ well for ye.’”
Stubby closed his eyes, expression pained.
Jagger specifically went to defeat Ladon? But he’d seen how strong Ladon was during their riddle encounter with the lizard beast. And that was back when Ladon had only just returned and was weak. Who in their right mind would willingly fight him now?
Jagger. He definitely wasn’t in his right mind.
“Do you think if we kill Jagger when he gets back that we can still use his body to show us the way with the beam o’ light?” Plank asked.
Her crew paused to contemplate this.
“Irreversible if we kill him and it don’t work, methinks,” Locks said.
Ebba didn’t remove her eyes from the shore. If the mountain of Neos had crumbled to the ground and Jagger was on top with Ladon, how could the pirate possibly have survived? Not only had he put the entire crew and ship in danger. He’d put himself in danger too. The odd pang twisted her stomach again.
“I say that if Jagger is ever comin’ back, we have a punishment ready that requires him to be alive,” she whispered, fists clenching.
Evil smirks spread across the faces around her, Caspian’s being the only exception.
“Aye, little nymph,” Plank gripped his cutlass, “a good plan.”
Eight
Jagger returned at low tide. His back was to them as
he heaved on both oars to return their rowboat to where it belonged. Sally was perched on his shoulder, clutching the purgium in her arms.
All eight of the remaining crew lined the port side of the ship, arms folded, expressions impassive.
As though Jagger felt their burning scrutiny, the pirate glanced back and up at them. His profile didn’t show fear, or shock, or defiance—just calm acceptance that, aye, he’d stolen the purgium, taken their rowboat, and put them in danger on several accounts. And was a bastard in general.
The rowboat came alongside Felicity.
“Here,” Plank called to Jagger in a silken voice, “let me help you with that.”
Her father began to lower the rope ladder over the side, and Jagger tensed, as well he should.
Ebba set murderous eyes on her pet sprite.
Betrayed again, and for the last time as far as Ebba was concerned. She could accept that Sally had her own mind and motives, but those motives had clashed with her own agenda too many times now. If the sprite was going to actively put her fathers in danger, that was where Ebba drew the very solid line.
Sally avoided her eyes and floated over to Caspian, passing him the purgium. He accepted it without a word, and she zoomed back to disappear beneath Jagger’s flaxen hair. The same place she liked to occupy on Ebba.
“Ye really did switch sides,” she muttered under her breath.
Stubby and Locks helped to winch the rowboat up and secure it.
“Did ye save yer people?” Grubby asked Jagger.
He scanned the rest of them. “Don’t know. If they be in hidin’, they won’t come out until they’re knowin’ it be safe.”
Caspian stared at the purgium in his hand, a wrinkle between his brows. “And Ladon?”
Ebba hadn’t uncrossed her arms, but she reluctantly listened for the pirate’s answer, half an eye on the prince.
Jagger smiled; a smile that actually reached his eyes for once. “Gone.”
“Dead gone?” she pressed, catching herself before asking how he’d done it.
“Dead gone,” he answered shortly.
Caspian lifted his focus from the cylinder, his amber eyes dull. “You healed him, didn’t you? You healed Ladon.”
Dynami’s Wrath Page 6