Bloody fancy words, she had no time for them. “Did ye speak to the king often?” she asked.
He fidgeted. “Sometimes.”
“Why does he hate pirates so much?” she asked.
Cosmo glanced at her in surprise. “A pirate killed his father when he was only fifteen. He was made king and swore he would eradicate pirates for good.”
“A pirate killed his father?” She could see all six of her fathers from here, working away in sync with the ship’s movement. If anyone took a single one of her fathers, Ebba wouldn’t hesitate to draw her pistol and blow a hole in their innards. And King Forge only had one father, not six. She shifted her position, not entirely comfortable feeling sorry for someone she’d been raised to hate. “Do ye know the pirate’s name?”
Cosmo tilted his head back. “Something Cannon. I don’t quite recall. The name is never uttered in the castle.”
Her mouth dried. “Mutinous Cannon?” she whispered, casting a furtive glance at her fathers.
“Yes, that’s it. Mutinous Cannon.”
Ebba pulled Cosmo down to her level, eyes wide. “Shh, don’t yell the bloody name out, ye codfish.”
“Why ever not?”
“My fathers get all weird-like when they be hearin’ the name. They used to work for him, back in the war days, and Cannon made them do terrible things.”
Cosmo’s eyes hardened, and she let go of him, shocked by the sudden change in his mood. He masked his expression. “Your fathers sailed with the man who killed King Forge’s father?”
Ebba shrugged. “I don’t know. They get so sad when I bring it up that I decided just to leave it alone. All I know is when I got dropped off to them—”
“By the pelican?” Cosmo shot, voice neutral.
“By the pelican,” she agreed airily. “That they vowed to turn away from their bad ways to raise me.”
They both stared at the map, showing the entire kingdom of Exosia, all the way east to the Dynami Seas that no sane person dared to enter.
“Have you thought any more about who your real parents are?” Cosmo asked.
Ebba jerked. “Shite, ye do ask a lot of soddin’ uncomfortable questions.”
“You don’t truly believe a pelican dropped you off here. Your crew pretends to believe a great many things, I’m discovering.”
“Why can’t I believe that?” she demanded, ignoring the first question. Ebba didn’t want to unravel everything willy-nilly. If she did, what if everything unraveled in a great, big heap that she couldn’t control?
Cosmo let go of one end of the map and caught one of her hands in his. “I can understand why you choose not to hold on to . . . certain things. There isn’t much space for anger aboard Felicity. You’ve all got to get along. But don’t you ever wonder who your parents really are?”
Ebba’s chest seized. Her first instinct was to get angry at Cosmo so he’d leave her be—like the last time he’d brought the subject up—but they’d had a falling out only a few days ago, and she didn’t want things between them to get awkward again. He was right; there wasn’t enough space on Felicity to remain angry at someone for long. Coupled with her own recent uncertainty over pretending away problems, maybe Ebba should try something different.
She pulled her hand free of his and studied her dirty fingernails. Tar from the ropes had worked its way underneath them—not that they were ever clean.
“I g-guess,” she said haltingly. She swallowed a couple of times. “I guess I as’umed one of them may truly be my father. And I never wanted to feel like I should love one of ‘em more than the others because they’re all my fathers, and I love ‘em equally.”
Cosmo made a sound in the back of his throat. She lifted her gaze to peer through her lashes.
“What?” she asked.
He looked down at her arm. Her sleeves were rolled back to the elbows, so they didn’t get in the way of her earlier work.
“What?” she said again. “Spit it out. I can hear your skull sloshin’ from here.”
He studied her for the space of several of her thudding heart beats, and then shook his head. “I have nothing to say, Ebba-Viva. Your explanation makes perfect sense.”
“Then why are ye lookin’ at my skin?”
Cosmo’s smile faltered.
She groaned. He was going to be polite again. “Stop thinkin’ afore you speak. It’s so annoyin’. Why don’t you just say what you mean to say and save time?”
Laughter burst from his lips. “How have I never met anyone like you before, Mistress Fairisles?”
“Because everyone ye know be soft?”
The sound of his laughter intensified as he rolled up the map. “You are most likely right again, I’d say. How I’d love to tell my sisters about you.”
“Ye have sisters?”
“Two. Both younger. Both act older than they are.”
“Why do they do that?” she wondered aloud. That was pretty much the opposite of Ebba until recently. Even after her trip through Syraness and around Charybdis, there were certain perks to childhood that she wasn’t willing to give up. Ebba was a pirate, after all. Far be it from her to turn her nose up at a good deal. All she asked is that Peg-leg arranged her mango slices in a smiley face on the plate. And that they give her presents where possible. And that her fathers be lenient to the point of never getting angry at her for anything. Otherwise, childhood was over.
“They don’t have enough to worry about, I guess. So they hurry to grow up. It’s probably a soft thing.”
Ebba nodded. Made sense. Sad in a way. No one should have to grow up if they didn’t want to. People should be allowed to do so whenever they wanted.
He held up the map. “I’d best go return this to its rightful spot. Barrels was very concerned for its safety.” Cosmo swung open the bilge door and disappeared down the ladder after a small bow her way.
Cosmo hadn’t spoken of his family much before, only his father sometimes. She’d gleaned that their relationship was a strained one.
Fathers were important.
Ebba rested her head against the bilge entrance and surveyed the six seasoned pirates that were her fathers, the only parents she’d ever known or wanted despite the obvious indication that most of them couldn’t be related to her.
An uneasiness filled her chest as she remembered the look on Cosmo’s face a moment before as he’d looked at her arm.
Four
“Plank,” snarled Ebba. “Did ye take my red bandana again? I know it were here.” She tossed her spare slops over her shoulder to the floor behind, delving into the colorful depths of her trunks. Coming across a long string of black pearls, she wound them around her neck in varying layers, adding to her already elaborate outfit.
They were going ashoooore.
Normally Ebba only went to this level of effort in arranging her garb for one of the major islands, but it was an age since they’d last been amongst other people. She was going all out.
A red bandana appeared in her periphery, and she snatched it out of Plank’s hand. Her eyes narrowed when she glimpsed his guilty expression.
“Can ye please ask me if ye want sumpin’?” She glared at him.
His eyes narrowed on her sash. “That blue sash be mine!”
Ebba’s eyes dropped to where she’d put a light blue and dark blue sash over the top of each other and strung them diagonally across her torso. Her two pistols hung from them. A walnut-colored leather jerkin sat snug over her previously white tunic. Brown ties held the sleeves in at the elbow. A wide belt that matched her jerkin held up her worn slops, and braided leather bracelets adorned her wrists.
“I only took it in revenge,” she lied in a matter-of-fact voice.
Taking the red bandana, she wrapped it over the hairline of her black dreads, tying the ends in a knot at the base of her skull. The red color made her mossy eyes stand out and looked great against her dark skin. “Well?” she asked Plank, placing her hands on her hips.
He studied her outf
it with a critical eye, stretching out a hand to flick her single golden hoop earring. “Hmm, I like it. It’s nothin’ that hasn’t been done afore.”
Bugger. He was right. “It’s just Neos, though.”
“True, aye. Maybe for Febribus, ye can consider sumpin’ bigger? Unique? Kohl around the eyes, perhaps?”
She nodded, seeing his vision immediately. “Kohl would draw more focus to my eyes. I really want some thick wooden bracelets, too. And maybe a lip and nose piercin’,” she hurried to add.
Plank stiffened. “I’m not sure about tha—”
“Ye let me get my ear pierced.”
“That be different. That’s to help ye see better and to ward off seasickness.”
“Cosmo says that might not be true. About seein’ better with an ear piercin’.”
Plank shot a look to where Cosmo dressed in the far corner. “Well, Cosmo doesn’t have his ear pierced, so how would he know?”
Ebba thought about it. “Maybe I’ll smell better if I had my nose pierced.”
Her father scoffed. “That’s silly.”
Barrels appeared out of his office. “Technically, it’s not. Merely a logical extension of what she already knows about piercings.”
“Ye can’t want her to be gettin’ more piercings,” Plank exploded.
“No,” Barrels answered. Plank rounded on her once more, arms folded. “But,” he continued, “it is simply because I don’t feel she’s old enough yet.”
“I’m near eighteen.” Ebba scowled.
“Ye won’t be gettin’ a lip or nose piercin’ until ye be fifty.” The words exploded from Plank’s mouth.
She smiled, hoping to disarm her father. “Ye can’t deny it’d look just right, Plank. A green crystal right here.” She pointed to the underside of her bottom lip. “And a small hoop right here.” She jabbed a finger in her left nostril.
He pursed his lips, but made no comment.
“Drop anchor,” came a muffled shout from the main deck.
“We’re here,” she shouted. “Come on, Cosmo.”
Cosmo shuffled into view, dressed in his usual stained slops and tunic. She surveyed the landlubber, torn between disbelief and disgust.
“Ye can’t be goin’ to shore like that, Cosmo,” Ebba said in horror. Even Grubby looked better than that when he went on land.
“I don’t think Cosmo has anything else to wear,” Barrels said gently. He was polished from head to toe in the finest of his finery. Crisp white cravat, breeches, and tunic. Buckled shoes, and rings adorning his fingers.
“Of course. I didn’t think o’ that. We’ll soon be fixin’ ye up.” Ebba strode between the hammock posts and flung open Plank’s trunk.
“Hey,” Plank protested.
She tossed Cosmo a black leather jerkin. Her other fathers were too fat to borrow clothing from. The prince slave looked at the garment and shook his head before pulling it on. Ebba jogged to Stubby’s trunk and pulled out a tricorn hat, flinging it in his direction. She grabbed a sash and wide leather cuffs from her own trunk.
“Do we have a spare cutlass?” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Aye,” Plank said, disappearing into the hold.
While he was gone, she went back to his trunk and drew out a spare belt. “Got a spare cravat, Barrels?” she asked.
“Usually I’d answer yes. But a large number have gone missing of late. I’ll see what I can find.”
Ebba swallowed, thinking of Sally’s cravat-stuffed bed. Arms full of her haul, she dumped it on the floor by Cosmo’s feet.
He finished lacing the jerkin and stood to attention in front of her, wry smile in place. “What now, Mistress Fairisles?”
She handed him the belt and black cuffs, surveying his appearance.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said, bemused.
“What?”
He laughed under his breath. “Dressing as a pirate.”
“Ye’ve been dressed as a pirate for weeks,” she said. “Yer just fancyin’ it up.”
“Cosmo the pirate,” he said softly. “Would the title fit me, Mistress Fairisles?”
She patted his uninjured arm, happy with the muscles she could feel under her palm. “O’ course it would.”
“A life free of duty,” he mused.
“Ye sure are in an odd mood,” she said, looking straight into his amber eyes. “Are ye okay?” Ebba picked up the yellow sash and leaned in close to him, wrapping the silky material over his belt and tying it in a knot to one side.
“Just feeling my usual guilt strongly today,” he said.
“And what would ye have to feel guilty about?” she asked. “Livin’ when no other did? That’s just luck. Not wantin’ to return to yer cage life on Exosia? That just be smart.”
“I guess I just feel like a lot of people died so I could live,” Cosmo said quietly.
She studied Cosmo for a long while, mulling on that. “I can see yer reasonin’, but I ain’t thinkin’ that was the case at all. Not from what I saw.”
Barrels returned. “Here, my last one,” he sighed. Passing the cravat over, he then disappeared topside.
Slinging the cravat over one of her shoulders, Ebba reached forward to the laces at the top of his tunic, which were done up to his chin. He inhaled and scanned the area for her fathers. Couldn’t blame him after the vomiting shanty.
She ignored him, untying the top three laces until a triangle of his bare golden chest showed. Then, she tied the floppy cravat loosely around his neck. “Aye,” she said, stepping back. “All the females will be after ye now, Cosmo. Ye look disheveled but smart-like . . . handsome.” Heat creeped up into her cheeks as the words left her mouth, mostly because it came too close to their conversation of the other day.
“Found one,” hollered Plank, coming back from the hold with a short, curved sword.
Ebba blinked a few times and turned from a suddenly grinning Cosmo.
The cutlass had a couple of rust spots, but it was better than nothing. Ebba handed it over, not looking up into the intense eyes fixed on her. The man slid the cutlass underneath the sash and belt.
“Smartly now,” Plank said, halfway up the ladder. “There be land to be landed on and a cook to make happy.”
“Do I look like a pirate now, Mistress Fairisles?” Cosmo asked her.
He wanted her to look at him again? She’d just told him he looked fine.
Ebba stole a quick glance, open-necked tunic, cutlass, jerkin, and always those smoldering amber eyes. She cleared her throat, following Plank up the ladder, calling back, “Maybe in another few months, prince slave. Maybe then.”
“Where be the people?” Ebba asked as Stubby and Grubby rowed them into shore.
Locks scanned the shore with his glinting emerald eye, his thin scars pulling as he grimaced. “Must be in the marketplace.”
She frowned. There were always children playing on the beach and fishermen fixing nets and pushing their rigs out. Last time their crew anchored at Neos, they’d docked away from the village at the southern end, but something was definitely unusual about the scarcity of people on the beach right now.
“All o’ them?” Ebba pressed.
“Aye . . . mayhaps not. Sumpin’ be smellin’ fishy to me, too.” Locks shifted slightly, and Ebba followed his gaze to Neos Mountain—the gray tip of which was visible above the rainforest, in the very center of the island.
She shuddered, remembering their run-in with Ladon there.
“Look, there’s a man,” Peg-leg said in relief, pointing with a stumpy finger.
Ebba’s shoulders relaxed. Stubby and Grubby kept up with their rowing until the bottom of the boat scraped on the black-sand beach.
Barrels said, glancing at his buckled shoes and at the water outside the boat, “I’m not getting out.”
“I’m ain’t,” her other fathers chorused.
Ebba leaped out of the boat, feet bare, and was immediately immersed in water to her knees. She grinned in triumph at h
er fathers. It was the first time she’d snuck off the ship without someone nagging her to wear shoes.
“Looking for these, Ebba-Viva?” Stubby held up a pair of scuffed brown boots, the tops folded down.
Her face fell, and she scowled at the grinning men. She tugged the boat up onto shore and snatched the boots from Stubby as the others clambered out.
She waited until Stubby was the only one left in the rowboat and tilted it sharply. The others burst into laughter as her father tumbled into the shallow water.
“Sorry, Stubs,” she said innocently as he emerged. Ebba pulled on her stupid boots. She’d never gotten used to moving on solid ground, let alone with shoes on. The combination made her feel slow and clunky.
“Ye flamin’ sod!” Stubby spluttered.
“Coin for the curse jar,” Barrels quipped.
Stubby staggered from the water and pulled off one of his water-filled boots, emptying the contents on Barrels’ buckled shoes.
Pink appeared above Barrels’ collar. “Very mature. I can see where Ebba learned to behave as she does.”
“Aye,” Stubby said, mulling the comment over. “Aye,” he said again with a broad beam. “Taught her everythin’ I know.”
Grubby appeared on her right side, wringing his hands and darting nervous looks between the trio, lest they begin to make each other sad and angry. “Ye did teach her that trick, Stubby. Well done. And Barrels, ye be teachin’ her plenty, too.” He gave his toothy smile. “And Ebba, that be mighty quick thinkin’ by ye.”
“Would you like to compliment everyone?” Barrels asked drily.
Grubby gave him an uncertain look and Ebba approached, squeezing his hand. “Aye, Grubs. Ye be right. Don’t he, everybody?” She glared at them.
“Aye,” came the halfhearted chorus of answers.
Stubby muttered. “No need to get worked up.”
They made their way up the black beach to the village. The man they’d spotted had disappeared. The shore was entirely too quiet. The absence of squealing children for starters. And they hadn’t spotted a single fishing boat on the way along the eastern coastline. Neos was by no means as bustling as Maltu on a normal day, but the villagers knew the crew of Felicity and didn’t bother to hide or pause in their daily activities when they stopped in. They knew the crew weren’t any danger to them and traded with the pirates willingly—and weren’t aware that occasionally Felicity pilfered from their crops to top up the hold for trade. The villagers didn’t see a lot of merchants so far south, and the tribespeople deep in the rainforest were more likely to kill the villagers than to exchange goods.
Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2) Page 5