She wasn’t left waiting on the beach for long.
Barrels’ heavy breathing was the first thing she heard. He really was unfit. . . .
Jagger clambered into the rowboat a scant second later, several paces in front of the others. Grubby was next, then Plank and Stubby. Locks after that, dripping with sweat. And finally, poor Barrels.
“Oh dear,” he said, leaning forward to place his head between his knees. “Oh dear, I need to exercise more.”
Ebba didn’t waste any time. Wiping her face, still wet from her swim, she turned them about and made for Felicity, her fathers too exhausted to help her row. Once she got the boat moving with all their weight, it was no problem to keep it up, and soon they bumped alongside the ship.
Up the ladder they went, winching in the rowboat and dragging the ladder up after.
Grubby ran to join Peg-leg at the anchor, and her fathers—after their quick breather—launched into action. Stubby went for the wheel. Plank and Ebba to the lines. Locks and Barrels peered back at the shore, watching for any hint of movement in the early morning hours. Barrels patted Pillage absently as the cat butted his leg for attention.
“—Anchor up—”
“—Mainsail up—”
“—Sail ahoy—”
Ebba hustled up the rigging to hoist the topsail, sliding back down to the deck when it was done. The others were gathered there. The only absentee was Cosmo—likely sleeping off the effects of the soothsayer’s glowing light.
“What happened?” Peg-leg asked. He was the most alert of her fathers, having rested on the ship for most of the night.
A shifting movement stole her attention and she spotted Jagger leaning against the mast, mostly in shadow. He was drawn to dark places, was he? She wouldn’t be taking her eyes off the sly pirate for a second.
“An unfortunate business, really. We’d just finished the trade, and the merchant was organizing to sail around here to finalize the transaction. Locks was at the window looking toward Verity’s—” Barrels caught the scowl thrown at him. “Uh, looking out of a completely random window at nothing. He was spotted there by some crew members of Malice. They wasted no time in overpowering us and holding us in the basement to receive Pockmark.”
Plank jerked his thumb at Jagger. “If it weren’t for Jagger, I ain’t sure we would’ve made it to ye in time.”
“What deal did ye strike with the scupper slime?” Stubby asked, eyes narrowing.
Silver eyes flashed in the dark, but Jagger didn’t take the bait.
“We’re to drop him at Neos in exchange for his help.” Plank accompanied his answer with an evil grin.
Before long the evil grin was replicated five times on each of her fathers’ faces. They obviously didn’t see anything wrong with keeping promises the way Jagger did. Ebba felt a little uneasy at the notion. But if Jagger played their crew again, she’d not only keep quiet about her fathers’ plan to drop him a mile from the shore, she’d also help throw him overboard.
Jagger strolled forward, staring up at the stars. The moonlight gave his flaxen hair an almost silver tinge, matching his hair to his eyes. Ebba frowned at the flittering thought.
“We aren’t heading southwest,” he accused. He sidestepped until he was in clear space. “What’s goin’ on? We had a deal.”
Her fathers laughed and walked off. Ebba watched them, chuckling until she realized she’d been left to answer Jagger. Flaming sods. She attempted to walk off, but Jagger blocked her way.
“Where are we set?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“No need to puff yerself up, Licks. We be headed to Pleo. After our bus’ness there be done, we’ll, uh, drop you at Neos.” She pulled around a beaded dreadlock and began to play with it.
“What aren’t ye tellin’ me?” he asked softly.
Ebba huffed and pushed past him to enter the bilge. “What kind of name is Licks, anyway?” she asked. He followed her down the ladder, and for no great reason, Ebba found herself sneaking a look up. She gulped at the sight of his thighs and behind, with his slops pulled tight against them, and quickly stared at her hands, feeling like she’d broken a dozen pirate laws.
“Maybe someday I’ll show ye,” he said in a low voice.
Ebba backed away from the bottom of the ladder, mouth ajar. “What d’ye mean by that?” He didn’t actually mean he’d lick her . . . did he? Her heart hammered in her chest.
He smiled. “Where am I sleepin’?”
She led him to the hammock next to Cosmo’s. On second thought, perhaps that wasn’t a good idea. Spinning, she ushered him back the way they’d come.
Ebba pointed at the hammock above her own. “Ye sleep there.”
The pirate eyed the space underneath which was entirely taken up by her trunks of clothes and tidbits. “Where be the space to put my things?”
“Can’t say I be caring overly,” Ebba admitted. “I ain’t shiftin’ my stuff for ye. And it don’t look like ye brought much with ye.”
Jagger muttered under his breath, and she strained to listen but missed the words.
The bilge door opened. “Ebba-Viva, ye’re on first shift with Peg-leg and Locks.”
She paused, hands at her belt, about to undress. “Ye’re kiddin’ me,” she shouted back.
“Nay, lass. Get up here with ye.”
Jagger had shucked the blood-red sash and belt he wore and folded them, placing them atop one of her trunks. He’d placed his pistols on top of the other trunk. She watched him hoist up into the hammock. Once he’d reclined, the pirate gripped the hilt of his cutlass.
He rested the other arm behind his head as the hammock gently swung. “Guess ye won’t get to sleep for hours,” he said smugly.
Ebba smiled kindly. “Guess I won’t.”
She shoved his hammock with all her strength and dodged for the ladder. The thud as he fell out was the sweetest kind of shanty.
“Sleep tight,” she sang over her shoulder.
“Hey, Ebba?” Cosmo joined her where she was swabbing a corner of the deck. She raised her brows, and he continued. “Do you think. . . ? Have you noticed,” he started again, “that your fathers are acting a little strange?”
“Huh?” she replied. Broom in hand, she swung around to study them. Locks and Grubby broke away from each other when they saw her watching.
Okay, that did seem odd.
Beside her, Cosmo watched them, too. “They’ve been whispering together since we left Febribus. What do you think it’s about? They got pretty weird at the soothsayer’s when she mentioned the purgium was on Pleo.”
Ebba hummed in reply. “I did see that.” She’d also promptly forgotten about it because it was none of her business.
“They seem worried about going back there. Did something happen on Pleo when they were. … Well, before you came into their lives?”
“When they worked for Mutinous Cannon?” she asked in a low voice.
He nodded.
“Aye, perhaps.” She shrugged, unwilling to say anything against her parents. But Cosmo had a point; Ebba was going to watch them from now on. “How’re ye feelin’ anyway?”
He unlaced his tunic and pulled it aside, displaying the mark for her. “A bit better, actually. I didn’t realize how drained I was.” He glanced at her. “I haven’t been sleepin’ well, but last night I slept like a rock.”
“How does a rock sleep?” she asked.
“Well, I guess the saying arose because a rock doesn’t move.”
Ebba shook her head and resumed swabbing. “Then it’d be hard-like to tell if a rock slept well or didn’t sleep at all. Not moving is all a rock ever does.”
Cosmo laughed, and she snorted at the sound. Landlubbers.
“What’s that?” Jagger swung down from the rigging. Ebba jumped and glared at him. That was her trick.
Cosmo covered his shoulder and laced his tunic. “A wound.”
A small smile played on Jagger’s lips. “That ain’t no normal wound; that be a wound
infected by taint.”
Ebba placed her hands on her hips. “Just how do ye be knowin’ that?” She’d never heard of this so-called taint before visiting Verity.
“Seen enough o’ them to know.” A gleam entered his eyes as he turned to Cosmo. “Ye don’t have long. Sometimes, if the tainted wound be on the legs, I’ve seen people go a few months until they succumb. With it right by yer heart, ye maybe only have a couple of weeks more.”
Ebba shoved him away from her friend. “Ye don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
The man brought his head down to hers. “Don’t push me again.”
She scowled right back, noticing he had similar black marks under his eyes to Riot and Swindles. Not as bad as other pirates, but they were there all the same. “Ye do look a bit shite, Jagger. Just like Riot and Swindles. Why is that?”
Jagger pulled back, apparently not bothered that his attempt to intimidate her hadn’t worked. Though, if Ebba was truthful, he had the look of a snake that was deciding whether to attack or curl up and go back to sleep.
The pirate deliberated and then walked away without answering her.
“Sink me, prince slave,” Ebba said. “He really don’t like ye.”
“About the prince slave thing. . . .” Cosmo’s amber eyes fixed on her. “Could you stop calling me that?” His gaze trailed after Jagger. “I’m not sure I want Jagger knowing I used to be the prince’s servant. It was Malice that sank the navy ship I was on, after all.”
“Aye,” Ebba said, mouth falling ajar. “I didn’t think about that. I’ll let my fathers know.”
“Thank you, Mistress Fairisles.” He sighed heavily and perched against a barrel. “Do you really think we’ll find the purgium in time? Two weeks seems an awfully short future.”
She rested a hand on his good arm and squeezed. “We’ll be gettin’ it for ye, Cosmo, or we’ll die tryin’. Ye ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“I ain’t sure what I’ve done for yer crew to inspire such loyalty,” he admitted. Cosmo was truly afraid. Her heart sank. He only spoke pirate when terrified.
Ebba strained for any hint of a memory, but none came. “Aye, I ain’t too sure either.” That wasn’t really true. The Exosian had found his place in their crew somewhere along the way.
Cosmo’s chest shook as he laughed. “You have a way of making me feel decidedly less sorry for myself.”
“Ow!” A shout came from across deck. Jagger burst out of the bilge, a glowing white ball streaking after him.
“Sal.” Ebba rushed over, cradling the wind sprite against her. “What did ye do to her?” She hurled the words at the larger pirate.
“What is that?” Jagger breathed, keeping his distance.
Ebba rolled her eyes. “Ye all right, Sal?”
A flurry of squeaking followed, but ended on a grim nod and terse smile. Any guess what that meant.
Jagger drew closer, repeating his question.
“Ye ain’t seen a wind sprite afore?” she asked him in disdain. “What kind of pirate are ye?”
Ebba lifted her finger and Sally high-fived her.
Stupid oversized pirate didn’t know everything.
Eleven
By the time they docked in a shallow bay just off the east coast of Pleo, Ebba was beyond ready to get off the ship. Three days enduring the secretive whisperings of her fathers, the assessing watchfulness of Jagger, and the edginess radiating off Cosmo was more than enough.
She’d even put on her accursed boots in case that caused a ten-second delay. Sodding things.
Checking to make sure her pistols were loaded, Ebba strolled across the deck to the rowboat where her other fathers waited.
“Ye ain’t comin’ with us,” Plank said.
Ebba rubbed at a spot on the pistol butt. How long had that been there?
Peg-leg cleared his throat. “We think it be best that ye stay on the ship.”
Darn blemish wouldn’t come off. Glancing up, she saw her fathers had mostly loaded into the rowboat. She vaulted over the bulwark and spun in the air, grabbing onto the rope ladder.
A hand on her calf stopped her.
“Ebba,” Stubby said gruffly. “Ye aren’t comin’ with us on this one.”
Time stopped. “What did ye just say?”
Not going with them on the quest to save Cosmo? Were they daft? She hoisted herself to sit on the bulwark and stared down at her six fathers.
Grubby, Peg-leg, Locks, and Barrels avoided her eyes. Stubby shot them an evil look and swallowed before tipping his head back. “We need ye to stay here and guard Felicity, and guard Jagger. We’ve tied him to a barrel in the hold.”
She gaped, words failing her for several long beats. “Ye’re kiddin’. There ain’t no way ye’d leave me behind. Ye know I don’t like to be apart from ye. One of ye stay here, and I’ll go with the main party. Or leave Cosmo here with Jagger and we can all go.”
“Cosmo can’t protect the ship,” Stubby said.
Down in the rowboat, the prince servant straightened. “Actually, you’ll find I ca—” He doubled over as Peg-leg jabbed the end of the oar into his gut.
Plank lifted both hands. “We may need to show the tribespeople Cosmo’s wound for them to be believin’ us, little nymph. He has to come.”
The last of Ebba’s bewilderment burned off, and she leaped to her feet, anger coursing through her. “What are ye hidin’ from me?” She threw the words at them. “Ye’ve been whisperin’ and plottin’ for days. Don’t think I haven’t seen. What’s wrong with Pleo? What do ye plan to walk into without me?” A thought occurred to her, and she deflated. “Ye don’t plan to leave me again, do ye?” Her lip trembled, and Ebba swiped a hand across her mouth to rub the weakness away—like it was a spot on her pistol. Whenever she was this angry, tears always seemed to ride in the wake.
Six guilty faces looked up at her. And one sad face belonging to Cosmo.
Barrels’ voice was soft. “Ebba, we aren’t leaving you. We’ll be back in a few days, tops.” His voice firmed. “But you are not coming with us.”
“Aye, I am.”
“You are most assuredly not.”
“I most assur’ly am.”
“Ye’ll be stayin’ here,” Stubby bellowed. He shot to his feet and the rowboat rocked violently. “Blasted well do as ye’re told, Ebba-Viva. For once, just do as ye’re bloody told.”
Her heart landed with a thud in the fold-down boots she hated so much. She stared at Stubby—along with everyone else in the rowboat. Her chest squeezed with an unbearable ache at his white-lipped expression. Why had he spoken to her like that?
A burning rose in her throat and in her eyes, and without a word, Ebba turned her back on the rowboat and its occupants and jumped down from the bulwark. She crossed the deck and sank down against the mast, waiting for one of them to come up and say they were sorry, and that they’d changed their minds.
Furious whispers rose up from the water. The whispers continued for a very long time.
And then nothing.
Silence.
Someone would appear over the side soon. Probably Grubby. Or Peg-leg, perhaps.
She waited, but slowly came to realize the quiet on the other side of the bulwark was entirely too believable. Ebba pushed to her feet and sprinted across the deck, leaning over the bulwark to peer down.
Cobalt blue water glistened below.
They were gone!
Lifting her eyes to scan the water ahead, she spotted them halfway to shore, rowing as if Ladon’s snakes were after them. Searing hurt of the like she’d only experienced once before blasted its way through her body. Ebba took a shaky breath and scowled as a frightened, high-pitched whimper came out against her will. They promised they’d never abandon her again.
But they had. They were leaving her.
Her fathers and Cosmo reached the beach, and the dagger of hurt they’d shoved in her gut twisted. Shivering cold swept from her toes to the crown of her head.
“I hate ye
,” she whispered, wishing her voice was strong enough to shout.
As if feeling her anguish, the six of them stopped and turned back to Felicity. But it was too late.
They’d left her here. They’d left her again, knowing what it would do to her.
She should’ve never given them a second chance.
Over that night and the next day, Ebba used Barrels’ best cravats to swab the deck. She then threw Locks’ and Stubby’s favorite tools into the ocean and hid the spare set. Following that, she used her cutlass to cut a long split in Plank’s hammock. Afterward, she dug out Stubby’s precious brandy and gave it to Sally to drink. The wind sprite had downed a whole bottle overnight and hadn’t stopped snoring since.
“Can ye take her somewhere else, or tie me up in a hammock?” Jagger asked with a pained expression. “How does she even snore that loud?”
It was a good question. Ebba shrugged. “Nay, nay, and I don’t know.”
She bashed the last of Peg-leg’s cooking pots against a grog barrel, warping it out of shape. With grim satisfaction, she tossed it aside.
“They really pissed ye off, huh?”
Ebba didn’t reply. The answer was yes. Even Pillage was avoiding her, probably curled up in some dark corner of the ship, sulking over Barrels’ absence. She reached into a secret drawer in a cupboard and drew out the dynami. This would annoy Grubby the most. Though she hadn’t decided if she wanted to punish Grubby just yet. The others would’ve forced him to leave her behind.
“Davy Jones’ Locker hath no fury like a wench scorned.”
Her temper had simmered since yesterday morning, and it snapped into a blaze in an instant. With all the grace of a drunken sailor in a hammock, she rounded on Jagger, who her fathers had latched onto a grog barrel. Large loops of rope held him to the barrel from elbow to shoulder, though his hands rested calmly on his lap.
Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2) Page 12