They hurried up the steps, and Ebba paused to catch her breath at the top.
“That was just as I imagined,” Jagger whispered behind her.
He was talking. About her butt.
Ebba straightened. “Nay, ye don’t get to talk that way when ye’re actin’ hot and cold, Jagger.” If he decided to just run hot, she was open for business, as her friends in the Maltu brothel liked to put it. And Ebba wouldn’t even charge Jagger anything to kiss her.
Really, it was a great deal for him.
“We got the sword,” she announced, striding to her fathers. A glance back told her Jagger’s eyes had followed her. There wasn’t any cold in his gaze.
“All right,” Peg-leg said, tapping over to snatch the sword from the younger pirate. “What now?”
“We need to look at the clothes,” Ebba said. “And whatever else is in the cave. And then I was thinkin’ everyone who hasn’t already touched the sword should do so.”
That was Stubby, Plank, Grubby, and Barrels.
Stubby had already expressed an interest in touching veritas. Grubby and Barrels shook their heads.
“Do we need to be votin’?” she asked, crossing to the food case. There was one fish left. Picking it up, she bent it in half and took a bite of the exposed flesh. Steak, steak, steak. Ebba swallowed, grimacing at the cold saltiness before taking a second bite.
“You didn’t want a vote when it came to your choice. The word ‘hypocritical’ comes to mind,” Barrels shot at her.
Ebba shrugged, swallowing the second bite. “There ain’t no hippos about it. Ye all need to touch it. If only because ye might not get another chance.” And then Plank would have to follow suit.
She took another bite, pausing to dig a scale out of her teeth.
Caspian cleared his throat. “I’d also like to touch the sword again. And we should take a chance to look around Davy Jones’ while we’re at it. Don’t forget our original intention in negotiating for the sword.”
The last comment felt aimed at her, but she didn’t respond, chewing demurely on the fish carcass.
“I’ll go first,” Stubby said gruffly. “Pass it here.”
Peg-leg sniffed, gripping the sword tight. “I see none o’ ye have changed yer minds about my fish stew.”
“How could we when we haven’t eaten it since ye asked the sword last time?” Locks said.
The cook seemed to miss the heavy sarcasm and brightened considerably.
Ebba scolded them. “There be more important things to look at than whether people like yer stew.”
“True enough,” Peg-leg said. He held out the sword to Stubby.
“Hold on,” Stubby said, jerking his hand away. “All o’ ye get in the cave. I don’t want ye to see.”
She wasn’t the only one to snort.
“Sod off,” Locks scoffed. “I’m watchin’.”
“Aye,” Ebba echoed.
Stubby’s face darkened. He ripped the sword from Peg-leg’s hand. They all watched as Stubby’s gaze turned inward and his gray-blue eyes began to flicker side to side. He flinched, the blood draining from his face.
Locks hummed. “Did I do that? It almost be creepier than when he ate the mountain apple.”
Minutes passed by, and Stubby flinched again, crying out twice before he stilled, and a brilliant smile crossed his face.
Her father blinked several times, glistening eyes focusing on the crew and the here-and-now again. “Okay, that weren’t no swim in a lagoon, but not as bad as I thought it’d be.”
“So. . . ,” Peg-leg said, eyeing Stubby pointedly.
“I ain’t tellin’,” her father replied, wiping at his eyes. “Not my fault ye both blurted yer personal bus’ness, is it?”
They all waited.
“Sink me,” Stubby said, bursting to his feet. “Ye’re like flamin’ piranhas.”
“Good ship name,” Locks said, brows raising.
Ebba hummed. “Aye, I wouldn’t mind that one.”
They turned back to Stubby.
“My father’s murder wasn’t my fault,” he said. “Trippin’ over my foot into the water didn’t drown him. He was dead from Cannon’s bullet afore he hit the water. I couldn’t have saved his life.”
The veritas confirmed truths a person already knew by showing them snippets of the past or future. It could confirm the truth of a present moment by showing goodness and truth as a glowing white and lies and evil as shadows. The sword could also show the truth of any moment a person had experienced and force truth from someone when the blade was rested on their skin.
“Did ye see that moment then?” she asked her father.
“Aye.” Stubby shuddered. “But it was di’ferent, seein’ it with these old eyes. More straightforward, I guess. It doesn’t stop me missin’ my father or from hopin’ to honor his memory, but the sword did show me that what happened wasn’t my fault and couldn’t be changed.”
Ebba walked to him and kissed his forehead. “I be right glad o’ that.”
She took the sword from him and looked at the closest of her fathers. Locks and Barrels stood beside each other, and she halted, staring intently at their chests. Each of her fathers had a cloud of darkness deep within their chest—the taint. Well, the taint inside Locks and Peg-leg was much smaller than the darkness within the others because they’d touched veritas a couple of weeks before.
Now, the others had to follow suit. She thrust the sword out at Barrels.
“Oh, I suppose I must, then,” he said, curling his long, weathered fingers around the hilt.
He screamed, dropping the sword.
“Blimey, what is it?” Locks demanded, reaching for her other father.
“I look like a savage,” Barrels said faintly. “An absolute ruffian.”
Peg-leg muttered to himself before saying, “Ye’re holdin’ a sword o’ truth and that’s what ye decide to ask?”
“I was just thinking of it at the time,” Barrels snapped. Bending down, he picked up the sword again, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, a small frown wrinkled the area between his brows.
“And?” she asked him.
“I hardly know what to think, my dear,” he said, pulling his collar out. “I am not a pirate, even after all these years.”
They could have told him that. Her father much preferred numbers and books over treasures and a merry jaunt up the rigging. Ebba had an inkling there was more than that, but she didn’t voice the observation as the others dissolved into loud hoots.
Ebba took the sword from him and stared intently at his chest. The taint contained there was less. The wispy black cloud within had shrunk by half. She was sure of it.
Hope exploded inside her at the sight. Truth was helping them heal. That was probably why Jagger had clung so strongly to the sword after leaving Malice. They’d been told that only the purgium could heal a person of the taint. Maybe the purgium was the only tube that could get rid of the taint, but clearly the healing cylinder wasn’t the only part that could help.
“The taint in ye be less,” she told Barrels. “Touching veritas helped ye.”
He touched his chest. “Are you certain? I admit that I’m overjoyed to know I’ve stuck to my Exosian roots over the years.”
He would be. She bit back her smile.
“Aye, I looked at ye afore and after,” she said. “Ye’re nearly the same as Locks now.”
Barrels’ hands dropped. “Locks is less tainted than me?”
“Only a mite.”
“Because he loves Verity,” Caspian blurted.
She glanced back and met his gaze. They quickly found other places to look.
“Aye,” Ebba said, coughing slightly. “That’s what I was wonderin’ too. If love be makin’ a di’ference too.”
Locks interjected. “Ye know, I do feel lighter for lovin’ Verity. The gold o’ her hair—”
“We’ll keep that in mind.” Stubby cut him off. “Grubs, ye’re next,”
&nb
sp; Ebba walked to Grubby but wrenched to a halt, staring at his chest. “There ain’t no cloud in ye.” She ran the rest of the way to her part-selkie father, grinning. “Grubs, ye ain’t tainted!”
“What? Let me see?” Stubby demanded. He grabbed the sword from Ebba and stared at Peg-leg and then Grubby. “Huh, the purguim did heal more than yer head, Grubs.”
“My head?” Grubby answered.
“The kraken beat ye up, recall?” Plank reminded him gently.
Grubby’s eyes rounded, his head drooping. “The mast hit me over the head. And I wasn’t leavin’ the grain bin open to deserve it either.”
Was he referring to the first time he hurt his head? Because the kraken had caused the second injury.
“Aye,” Stubby gripped his arm. “We know, matey. It weren’t fair o’ Cannon to harm ye.”
Knowing Cannon, it wasn’t. But the truth was, the purgium had healed Grubby’s head recently, and none of them had liked the arrogant, selkie version of their crewmate.
Grubby reached out and took the sword.
He threw his head back and laughed, handing the blade to Ebba.
“Knew it,” he said. Reaching for a bit of seaweed, he rolled it up.
Stubby cast a bewildered look at her. “What do ye know, matey?” he asked.
“That I be smarter than all o’ ye,” Grubby answered. Laughing again, he tucked the rolled seaweed behind his ear.
Well, they’d known that already. Kind of.
Glancing around the ledge, veritas in hand once more, Ebba was glad to confirm there was no hint of the taint in the black stone around the cave or on the ledge.
“We should hurry,” Jagger said. “This be takin’ too long.”
Morbid curiosity struck her.
Dammit. Ebba couldn’t not look.
What she actually wanted to do was rest the blade on Jagger’s skin and ask why he wouldn’t kiss her. But her fathers were here, so. . . .
Holding the blade, she stared at the pirate’s chest.
Jagger’s body glowed radiant white. Not a speck of shadow lingered within him—though that might not mean he was taint-free. His resistance to magic could be at play against the sword’s power.
Her skull shot back to the moment she’d touched the amare. Her chest exploded with a trembling and overwhelming joy—like a thousand butterflies had been released within her. Pure joy made her lips tremble with the urge to laugh for no other reason than she just felt complete happiness.
She had to get to the bottom of this Jagger thing. Ebba focused her thoughts. Did she love Jagger?
A memory swept through her, warming her from the inside out. She closed her eyes, and in her mind watched as she sat in the hold of Felicity, stringing her beads back into her dreadlocks.
She’d loved him then.
Ebba focused again. Were they meant to be with one another?
Surety swept through her again, and she was catapulted back into the thunderbird’s storm. Eyes already closed, she gasped, the past version of herself swinging in thin air over the Dynami Sea, Jagger’s grip on her the only thing saving her from death.
Ebba squeezed her eyes tighter. Was Jagger the love of her life?
This time, the warmth erupted into an inferno as Ebba’s mind was hustled back to Malice. Jagger was helping her to escape the tainted ship. She yanked him out of the gun port after her, sending both of them plummeting to the ocean below.
Swimming through the heady feeling, Ebba returned to awareness. The sword had confirmed truths she already knew deep down since the amare. Truths she’d been confused over and perhaps in a smidgen of denial about. It didn’t feel right that a magical tube could tell her who she could feel for. And yet, looking back, her feelings for Jagger had steadily built for so long. She trusted him, respected him, and looked up to him.
When Ebba looked at Jagger, all she saw was him.
She loved Jagger with every fiber of her being.
Eleven
Ebba screamed her frustration and threw the sword away, watching it clatter and roll to a stop on the fiery stone just before falling off the cave ledge.
Locks reached her first and clutched her shoulders. “What is it, lass? What did ye see?”
She stared at the sword.
“Talk to us,” Barrels urged her.
Lifting her eyes, she became aware that all six of her fathers surrounded her on the ledge in varying states of alarm. Jagger and Caspian hung back, but Plank alone appeared unworried.
“N-nothin’,” she managed to say. The amare wasn’t broken. Everything she felt was real.
“That wasn’t nothin’,” Peg-leg said with a snarl. “That was like ye’d been stabbed with a thousand knives.”
He’d react like that, too, if he loved someone who wouldn’t kiss him.
“Aye, I just found out that. . . .” She trailed off.
Between two of her fathers, she saw Plank’s lips quirk. Ebba glared at him. He knew. Or suspected. She’d held the sword, looked at Jagger, and screamed for all of Davy Jones’ to hear. Ebba was surprised the others hadn’t put two and two together.
Perhaps suspicious was a better way to describe their obtuseness. A look at Barrels showed he was pale. A look at Stubby showed her he was scowling over his shoulder at Jagger. Right, it was a pretending thing. That worked both ways. There was no way she was confessing the truth to them. If she loved Jagger, she probably didn’t want to see her fathers kill him with their bare hands. Unless the pirate didn’t return her regard.
Ebba hooked the hand guard of the sword with her foot, kicking the sword across the perch in Plank’s direction. “Go on then. Yer turn.”
He shook his head, leaning back against a cliff face. “That ain’t a good idea, little nymph.”
That was enough to turn her other fathers on him.
“We’ve all touched it,” Peg-leg said, crossing his arms.
“Aye, well, I just wanted to see ye do it,” Plank answered with a gleaming smile.
The smile gave her pause. He hadn’t smiled yesterday. Perhaps rushing him wasn’t a good idea. Perhaps he should only touch veritas when he was ready. Their entire crew had pretended for a long time, and Ebba was once as afraid of the truth as they were. Her fear and the discomfort truth brought lessened each day, but she understood it wasn’t a natural thing for any pirate. Would foisting the sword on Plank make him more afraid of seeking truth in the future? Or would he cope with whatever he saw?
“Touch the damn thing, ye spineless pufferfish,” Stubby said, sitting down on the perch edge to dangle his legs over. “Ebba be right—we may not see the blade thing again.”
She licked her lips. “Mayhaps he shouldn’t if he ain’t ready.”
“I don’t think time has anythin’ to do with my truth,” Plank said, his smile fading. “It won’t alter or fade or darken.”
“Okay, but we can only have one Locks in the crew,” Barrels said, rubbing his temples.
Locks jaw dropped. “What does that mean?”
“It means your shanties about Verity are terrible. Once I considered jumping in the sea and swimming to shore to be away from them.”
Uh-oh. The conversation was heading south.
Ducking down, Ebba reached for the hilt of veritas but paused, fingertips hovering over the hilt as her fathers squabbled overhead.
Plank left the cliff face and crouched beside her. Noise unfaltering above them, he reached out to cup her face. “Ye ought never be afraid o’ love, little nymph. Esp’cially not a love that can span life and death and everythin’ between.”
Ebba sucked in a sharp breath. “Ye think I love him that much?” She hadn’t asked the sword that question.
“I’ve had a true love. I’d never fail to recognize that emotion in my daughter. That’s why I’ll never come between ye.”
. . . Unlike her other fathers.
He thought she and Jagger were. . . . “True love?”
“What? Ye believe in magic, but not that two souls
can be designed for one another? What about the Daedalion lovers who jumped off the cliffs together?”
Aye, but they were magical creatures, and she’d never thought the same concept of soul mates or true undying love could apply to mortals. Or pirates.
Plank took the sword from her, and Ebba crouched, torn between curling into a ball on the ground and joining the world again.
She chose the ball.
Hands reached down and wrenched her back up on her feet. Ebba glared at Peg-leg.
“What’d ye do that for?” she demanded. “I was goin’ to mope.”
But he wasn’t looking at her. None of them were. Not Caspian and not Jagger. Everyone looked at a swaying Plank.
He clutched the sword in two hands, head tilted upward toward the cavern ceiling and a smile on his face. A stark contrast to the grimace of immense pain squeezing the corners of his eyes, which were pouring with tears. It was though his joy was contained in molten coals that he could not touch without burning his flesh yet touched all the same.
The sight of his anguish was terrible.
In two strides across the black stone, Ebba was at his side, ripping veritas from her father’s grip.
As she did, he lowered his head.
The smile was gone.
And Ebba knew, with trembling certainty, that she’d made a grave mistake.
“Plank?” she whispered.
He turned his face from her, extending his hand back. “Not now, little nymph.”
Ebba hovered, sword in both hands as he’d just done, looking at the taint within her father. Horror rooted her to the spot. His chest was flooded with taint. Had he been that bad before? She hadn’t gotten a chance to check him before he took the sword.
Gentle fingers pried the veritas from her grip.
“I’ll check the inside for taint,” Jagger said, his silver eyes dark as he searched her face.
Ebba barely registered him ducking into the cave. She watched as Plank staggered to the cave steps and sank down onto them, head in his hands.
Locks wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Leave Plank be for now. He’ll be right after a spell, ye’ll see.”
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