That sounded like a story parents told their children. But Ebba turned away, if only to hide from the growing knowledge that one of her fathers really wasn’t okay. And that she, again, had no idea how to help.
“Grubby can get out of hell,” Barrels said suddenly. “He could get out with Ebba and Caspian. And maybe Jagger if he’s taint-free. They are the three needed to assemble the weapon. If we get them out with the parts, they can continue on with the quest.”
Continue on without her fathers? Ebba wasn’t listening to this. She stormed into the cave after Jagger and stalled just inside in the shadows.
“Any good?” she called within.
“Aye,” Jagger’s low voice echoed back from the left. “All looks fine. There be a couple o’ dresses in here. The rest be normal pirate garb.”
Ebba could take one guess at what Cannon deemed appropriate for her. “How many sets o’ slops are there?”
“Not many.”
So it was a dress for her. She much preferred dresses of her own design, but gone were the days when she’d light fires to avoid being shoved into the things.
Ebba missed her slops. And her jerkin. She even missed boots. Which reminded her about Cannon’s weirdness over her wearing shoes. “Shoes?”
“Aye, there be some child boots that should fit ye.”
She listened to the smile in his voice. Ebba wasn’t taking that bait, and she wasn’t in the mood for Jagger’s distraction techniques. His boots scuffed on the uneven ground as he worked his way back to her.
They really needed a bloody lantern in here.
“Here,” he said, holding veritas out to her. “Take this and send Caspian in.”
Caspian. That didn’t bode well. “Why?” She drew out.
Jagger’s teeth flashed in the dark. “Don’t worry, Viva. I won’t strangle him. We need to change for our meetin’ with Cannon.”
Her gut flipped. She’d forgotten about that.
“Unless ye’d rather stay and tell me what the veritas forced ye to admit to yerself afore?” he asked, raising his brows.
For once, she wasn’t the one pretending. Ebba snatched veritas and stormed back out onto the ledge to join her fathers. It was a storming kind of day.
“I asked the sword, too, Viva,” he called after her.
She stopped short. What? He did? Why wasn’t he acting strangely then? And if he wasn’t in shock, why hadn’t he kissed her?
“Uh,” Caspian said.
Ebba jolted and realized she was face-to-face with the prince in the shadowed entrance of the cave.
She shoved down the urge to march back to Jagger and kick him in the ankle bone.
“Ye need to go change for the meetin’ with Cannon,” she said to the prince.
This time, he looked at her. “What meeting?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Sorry, I forgot to say. When Pockmark comes back for veritas, he’ll be takin’ ye and Jagger with him to meet with Cannon.”
Caspian stood, brows drawing together. “You didn’t think to mention this until now?” He didn’t wait for her second apology. “What else was said?”
She thought back. “That ye should dress ac’ordingly and that Pockmark will be there.”
He nodded curtly and sidestepped her, entering the cave.
Locks whistled low. “Phew, he’s right pissed at ye.”
Ebba circled the wrist that held the sword. It was far too long for her and scraped along the stone. She wanted her cutlass again.
“Tell me about it,” she mumbled, glancing to where Plank still sat, rocking.
“Don’t worry, I find most people can get over love pretty well,” Locks continued.
She wasn’t taking advice from him on the subject of love. He’d had more girlfriends than she could count in her lifetime, and all because he was running from Verity because she’d hurt his feelings by calling him out on his promiscuous ways. And Barrels was right: his love shanties were shite.
Tuning him and her other fathers out, Ebba reached desperately for the meager wisp of privacy at the opposite end of the ledge to Plank. She sat heavily. Her mind was in turmoil, and her crew was wise enough to take the hint she didn’t want company. Too much was happening that she didn’t understand. It was all connected; she felt it as an almost tangible sensation in her chest. Plank’s sadness, their reason for being here—for being on this unwanted quest, the reason she loved Jagger and not Caspian, the reason Caspian lost his arm. All of it had to mean something. For so many weeks, months, she hadn’t let the lack of answers get to her. But now, the feeling of limbo had exploded into overwhelming territory. She needed to understand why such bad things were happening.
And yet that seemed impossible. To understand terrible acts, she’d have to understand the people who committed them. There was no rhyme to evil’s reason.
Sniffing hard, Ebba scanned Davy Jones’, sword in hand. She looked at the boiling purple stream, shivering in memory of the all-too-recent horrors there. The water wasn’t tainted. She peered across the stream to the damned, who’d tugged so strongly on her heart. The people there weren’t covered in shadows, unlike the tainted pirates. In fact, many of them glowed to varying degrees.
She continued scanning the damned on the far side of the cavern, from the passage platform all the way to the opposite, northern cliff face.
Ebba squinted.
Then blinked.
Whoa, one of the damned over there was glowing! Not just a subtle shine, either; radiance burst from the person in waves. Now that her eyes had found the brilliant light, she couldn’t see anything else. The damned stood out like a beacon.
Ebba stared down at the sword in her hands. She was seeing truth or goodness. Across the stream. What did that mean?
Lifting her chin, Ebba stared again, watching as the light moved around, always staying toward the northern end of the cavern.
Who was it?
Movement directly below her snapped her attention back from across the stream.
Pockmark and Swindles weaved their way through the boulders toward the base of her crew’s perch, but as concerned as Ebba was about Caspian and Jagger meeting with Cannon, she now had something of her own to do.
A glowing light in the middle of hell? That sounded fair-strange to her. More than that, the sword had shown it to her. That had to mean something.
And she was going to find out what.
Twelve
Ebba rated the outfit a five out of ten. Not the worst she’d ever worn. And certainly not the best. The best being her slops.
The corset docked the most points. It sucked her waist in to a tiny V, which Ebba didn’t mind. But it made her chest look about four times the size, which wasn’t appreciated. Whether the V-waist or the new chest size was to blame for her trouble breathing, she wasn’t sure. Beneath the black corset was a ruffled crimson skirt that gathered high on one side, exposing Ebba’s thigh. Exposed thigh was better than exposed butt.
Under the black corset was a white linen shirt that would be perfect except the neckline was too wide for the garment to perch on her shoulders. Instead, both sleeves hung partway down her arm, drawing more attention to the boosted swell of her chest.
The boots had earned the outfit a few points, being that they were somewhat like her old boots except black and without the folded tops.
“I look like one o’ Sherry’s girls,” she announced, swishing side to side.
Barrels had already been subjected to lacing the back of the corset and audibly shuddered.
Grinning, Ebba left her fathers to fumble around in the dark and change. Holding her ruffled skirt aloft as she neared the ledge, she glanced left to where Jagger and Caspian had disappeared far too long ago. What was Cannon doing to them? Driving the wedge between the pair further in? Or was he humiliating Caspian and playing Pockmark against Jagger? Probably all three.
She was uneasy that Cannon had met the pair by the tainted ship instead of leading them to the stream as he’d done
with her. But that did leave the stream open for business.
“Ebba-Viva,” Stubby said behind her.
She straightened at his tone. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. Turning, Ebba stopped short at the sight of her six fathers in a row outside the cave.
“. . . Aye?” she asked.
“Can ye sit for a talk with us?” Stubby gestured at a rock on the wide ledge.
“Prob’bly not, matey. I can’t do much o’ anythin’ in this corset.”
Peg-leg shoved Locks forward, who scowled back over his shoulder.
“What be the matter?” Damn. She should have scooted down to the stream to find the source of the glowing light when she had the chance.
Plank walked to a stone and propped his foot up on it, eyebrows raised at the others. She watched him carefully for any sign of the anguish he’d displayed yesterday. But her father had either sorted through his strife or tucked his pain away so that none showed.
Her crew edged forward, not all of them electing to sit. But in time they lost the ‘battlefront’ appearance.
Ebba waited, resting her hands on the flare of her skirt just below her corset.
“There comes a time,” Locks began, “when one person begins to look at another person as more than a friend.”
Shite, she knew what this was about. Ebba eyed the ledge, wondering if she should take the risk and jump.
“And when that time comes, his or her parents should sit down with their child and explain the workings o’ how one person loves another and the probable outcomes o’ sexual intercourse.”
She stared at Locks in mute horror.
Grubby frowned. “Ye said we wouldn’t be readin’ her the book.”
Peg-leg hushed him with a fluttering hand.
This was about Jagger. She’d known it wasn’t over. Sod it! They’d seen him hug her. They thought, like Caspian, that he’d kissed her. But luckily, there was one sure way to stop this conversation: by giving her fathers an easy way out.
“I ain’t sure what ye think ye saw with me and Jagger,” she said. “But Cannon showed me sumpin’ ter’ible at the stream. Afterward, I was upset, and Jagger hugged me a little while. That was it. Nothin’ to be worryin’ over. I’m a pirate, recall?”
Stubby blew out a breath and strode for the cave. Plank yanked him back.
“Since we dropped you at the brothel, you’ve always been rather vocal about your identity, my dear,” Barrels said. “And of late, to our disma— Well, you’ve been equally as vocal about being a tribe pirate female. So forgive us,” he said, shooting Stubby a glance, “if we don’t quite believe yer claims about Jagger.”
“So now ye’re all about the truth?” she shot back.
“D’fensiveness be normal. Don’t be put off,” Locks whisper-screamed at Barrels.
Barrels stuttered. “Uh, yes. You convinced us of that. We thought we were protecting you, but we weren’t. We’re determined to no longer take the easy path. Especially when it comes to you.”
He might not be a pirate, but he could certainly tell a pirate truth. He’d built himself an exit clause already.
They hadn’t taken the bait. That left one route: Getting this over with as soon as possible.
“Allright then,” she said. “None o’ ye want to be here. I surely don’t want to be. Say yer piece, and let’s get it over with.”
At a few looks from the others, Peg-leg hastened to say, “Good, right. Well. First off, we wanted to show ye the dif’erence between mere lust and love.”
Ebba waved an arm. “The dif’erence between Locks’ girlfriends and Verity.”
“A-ah.” Peg-leg blinked and looked at the others. “Aye, that’s likely right. But sometimes when ye feel it, ye believe them to be the same.”
She’d felt infatuation and then love. One after the other . . . a week apart.
Ebba told them, “I’m knowin’ the difference. One feels empty, the other one whole.”
Her fathers stared at her.
“That be . . . about right,” Locks said, frowning.
Stubby was next up. “When ye think ye love someone, the best thing to do is to move slowly until ye know if it be love . . . on both sides o’ the bulwark.”
When Plank groaned, Ebba was inclined to echo the pained sound.
“Aye, I hear ye,” she managed. This was about Jagger. They were trying to convince her against him.
“And,” Stubby continued, “sometimes, ye need to learn to love what’s good for ye rather than someone who might sail ye into a storm. It be the dif’erence between a good, kind lad and a shady, bad one with dubious morals. And ye know,” he said, voice high-pitched, “not all the good ones be pirates. Sometimes they be landlubbers. Sometimes royal-lubbers.”
This was beyond painful. Her fathers didn’t know what she knew since touching the amare and veritas, but even then, falling in love with the wrong person or being misled by infatuation for a few months or years was her choice.
However, since Ebba planned to always have her fathers in her life, their opinion did matter. Most of the time, when they weren’t forcing her to talk about drinking tea, Ebba respected their opinions.
“I know ye don’t like Jagger,” Ebba said, her face grim. “And I know ye like Caspian a fair sight more.”
“He’d make a good captain,” Locks interjected.
Ebba glanced at him, and he fell quiet. “Ye worry for me. For my happiness. For my feelings. Just as I do for all o’ ye. But do ye think ye’ve raised a pirate who’d be taken in? And if I was taken in, do ye think I’m the sort to keep quiet about it and let it happen?”
Now they weren’t looking at her. Except Plank, who was just amused and staring up at the surrounding cliff faces.
“Nay, lass. Don’t take this to mean we don’t have faith in yer strength. Ye know we think yer right fierce,” Peg-leg said.
“I am,” she said. “All o’ ye made me that way.”
“We be puttin’ our nose in overmuch, I take?” Locks asked.
Ebba nodded. “Aye, ye are. Though it comes from a good place.” Should she tell them about the amare and what she’d seen, doubted, and then been shown again by veritas? She peered from the sweat on Stubby’s forehead to Peg-leg’s nervous twitch.
Could they handle it today?
She thought of the way Jagger always pulled away. What if she told her fathers only to be rejected by Jagger?
No, she wouldn’t tell them just yet. For now, it was between her, Jagger, Caspian, and Plank. Darn it, too many people already knew. Ebba opened her mouth then hesitated again. How should she tell her parents that she was accidentally in love? Or had been in love for some time and was forced to acknowledge it early?
Grubby stood and, in the absence of his usual cap, twisted the bottom hem of his roughly tucked tunic. “When ye have sex, there be certain herbs which will stave off pregnancy. Ye’re much too young for children though we’d like a lot o’ grandbabies one of these days. And also, there be diseases that Jagger might be havin’. That Caspian prob’bly don’t.”
Unfortunately for her, the yells of her other fathers came too late for a single word that spilled from Grubby’s mouth to be lost.
She couldn’t breathe. And it wasn’t the corset.
Her jaw dropped. “Ye gave him all the hardest stuff to say!”
“Nay,” Stubby attempted.
Ebba ticked off her fingers. “Pregnancy. Grandbabies. Diseases. Sex. Ye flamin’ cowards.”
“I don’t mind, Ebba,” Grubby said nervously. “Can I still see yer babies?”
“Of course ye can,” she started saying. “Wait! I ain’t bloody havin’ babies.” Then paused, thinking of cute mini-Jaggers with silver eyes. “Nay,” she said, clutching her skull. “Nay, nay, nay. I’ve had enough o’ this talk.”
She turned away from her fathers, forcing away their bumbling apologies.
Their apologies faded to silence, and soon, arms wrapped around her.
Plank rested his
head atop hers. “They be back in the cave now, little nymph. . . . I told them that was a ter’ible idea.”
Ebba wasn’t able to see the humor in it just yet. “They don’t like Jagger overmuch.”
“Nay, it ain’t about that.”
She rested back against her father, craving the contact more because of what happened with him yesterday than anything else. “What is it then?”
“It’s about bein’ replaced. With Caspian, it wouldn’t feel like bein’ replaced because he’s no pirate. With Jagger, it does. Because we see how ye are with him. Even before ye touched the amare.”
“Ye did?”
Plank nodded. “I saw it on Pleo. When he was holdin’ that pistol to himself, wonderin’ if he should shoot. Ye called a few words to him, and with just that sound, he decided to fight. I saw it again when he collected yer beads and gifted them back. I saw it when he risked his life to save ye durin’ the thunderbird’s storm. And when he barely spoke a word when the Capricorn took ye hostage. That lad loves ye with all his soul. To me, it always seemed like he was waitin’ for ye to realize the same. When Caspian showed an int’rest in ye, Jagger decided waitin’ weren’t good enough.”
“I didn’t notice any o’ that,” she admitted with a snort. “Ye really think so?”
“When we sat paralyzed in Medusa’s lair, the others knew. Ye heard him, little nymph. I’d wager he was more embarrassed by that than he let on. Then aboard Malice, only the thought o’ ye could reach Jagger’s soul. He only kept going because he recalled yer joy. The need to preserve ye and to keep ye whole drove him to resist the darkness. I’ve lost count o’ the times he’s been there for ye, provin’ himself. He reminds me greatly o’ myself with. . . . Well, o’ a younger version o’ myself.”
Hearing all of this baffled her. Because she remembered all of that. But at the time, she’d always thought the pirate was doing those things to mess with her. Was her father right? Had Jagger loved her all this time?
“Jagger be a better man than me, though,” Plank said, kissing the top of her head.
Ebba turned and kissed his cheek. “Nay, father. Just immune.”
Eternal Gambit Page 11