Her eyes widened. Even Plank blanched.
Shite.
Fifteen
After lowering the still-unconscious Grubby into the water when the sun first rose, she’d clasped hands with Jagger and Caspian to find the way to the sixth part. Making headway and then drifting off-course while the kraken rested was grinding on her last nerve, but until Grubby woke, that was their reality.
Without freedom to move about a ship, the endless canvas of black water was draining everyone of good humor.
“Let’s check the d’rection again,” she told Caspian.
Peg-leg glared at her, and she grimaced but didn’t offer an apology. It was about time he knew his fish stew tasted like mud.
On the bench opposite her, Locks said, “Here, lass. Let’s check yer wounds then.”
“They feel pretty good. Just itchy.” Sucking in to account for the presence of the dynami and purgium inside her belt, Ebba pulled the bottom hem free of her belt and sawn-off slops and peeled the tunic upward.
She untied the bandages around her torso, complaining as the bandages tugged at her tender skin. Ebba wrinkled her nose at the stench of dried seaweed beneath. Once she’d unwound the last binding, she balled the lot up and deposited them into Locks’ outstretched hand.
“Some o’ the smaller ones are healed,” Locks said, leaning forward. He glanced at the seaweed in his hand. “Incr’dible. It be a shame there ain’t more o’ this about.”
The prince shifted between Jagger and Locks and took the place next to her. Something tightly coiled within her relaxed at Caspian’s warm presence by her side. For three days, he’d sat on the opposite end of the boat, but he’d felt so far away emotionally. With Grubby inside before, moving had been too hard.
Ebba smiled at the prince, eyes searching his face for the anger she’d glimpsed all too frequently of late. He bumped her shoulder and smiled back.
Her stomach twisted with nerves, ruining the moment. Talking to him about her change of feelings wasn’t going to be easy. She’d rather eat a barrel filled with Peg-leg’s fish stew. But her friend’s feelings mattered more than her fear of the conversation. Before, Ebba had waited to feel some kind of deep regard for him. But now, she was certain that regard wasn’t coming and never would. She had to be totally upfront about that.
There was barely enough room for her and Caspian to sit side-by-side on the front bench. In the cramped space, his leg pressed against her thigh and a fierce warmth bolted through her chest. Emotion robbed her of speech for a second, and Ebba swallowed back a thick lump rising in her throat.
She threw her arms around the prince and buried her face in his chest.
“I’m so glad to have ye, Caspian,” she said tremulously. “Ye’ve always been there for me. I’ll always be there for ye too.”
She was surprised when he didn’t hug her back. But what Ebba felt didn’t lessen as she released him, and the smile she sent the prince left him blinking.
“Keep yer hand to yerself,” Jagger snarled at the prince, interrupting the moment.
Ebba stared at the pirate in shock. Why would he say such a thing?
She would have ventured a guess at jealousy except Jagger had uttered the words. He’d never displayed jealousy before.
Caspian jerked his thigh away from hers, and the warmth drained away from her chest in a flash.
“It ain’t nothin’ to ye what his hand be doin’,” Ebba hissed at Jagger, flushing after the comment and sincerely hoping her fathers hadn’t heard.
“I mean. . . .” She trailed off and returned her focus to pulling off the last bandage.
Jagger was still glaring murderously at the prince, who fidgeted on the bench next to her.
“What if you put the seaweed in the water for a while? It might work again,” Caspian said to Locks. His tone was off.
He wasn’t bothered by what Jagger had said, was he?
“Ye think?” Locks asked, darting his eyes to Caspian.
The prince shrugged. “Worth a try.”
“True enough,” Locks said. “I’ve got to wash the bandages and wounds anyway.”
Jagger’s eyes were hooded. He was staring at her stomach.
“Ye all right there?” she shot at him, still angry over his remark to the prince.
Silver eyes raised to hers. A smirk crossed his face. “Best view in the boat.”
Locks shoved her bloody bandages in his hands, and Jagger’s nose scrunched.
“Wash those,” her father snapped.
No, Jagger wasn’t washing her bandages! Embarrassing. Ebba ripped them from the pirate’s hands and began washing them herself. Jagger holding them felt . . . too personal.
“I’ll do some.” The prince took one and washed it on the other side, placing the amare between his knees to do so.
“Ye don’t think that we’re riskin’ notice by the Capricorn?” Jagger said as they worked through the pile.
“I was thinking the same,” Barrels piped up. “But Grubby’s wound was washed away in the sea as well as Ebba’s wounds and bandages multiple times.”
Locks shrugged. “Makes no matter, does it? Ebba’s wounds have to be cared for. Anyway, they’ll take Grubby first.”
She whacked him lightly, snickering. “He ain’t bait.”
Locks waggled his brows at her and settled into cleaning the wounds on her legs and torso, reapplying the soaking seaweed and bandages. He was right; the smaller cuts were healed and gone. The larger cuts had formed hard scabs.
He sat back, dusting his hands.
“Hey,” Matey said, breaking the quiet after. “I think I remembered more about the three watchers.”
Everyone faced him.
“The titles at least,” he continued. “I—”
The kraken stopped swimming abruptly, and Ebba toppled backward with a yell.
“Drunken starfish on a roulette table,” she blurted, picking herself up from the bottom of the boat. “Why’d ye stop?”
The kraken bobbed in the water, ignoring her. As everyone reseated themselves, Matey turned in a slow circle, his eyes glowing menacingly.
Ebba raised her hands. Uh-oh. “Easy now.”
“Capricorn,” he growled.
“Where?” Plank asked. “How far away?”
Matey blinked. “They’re surrounding the Jendu. I’ve got to go.” He sank down but popped back up, the rope no longer around the base of his tentacles. “But I can’t leave you guys,” the kraken fretted.
“How far away?” Plank urged.
“Five hundred meters beneath us,” the kraken wailed. He stilled again. “They’re calling me. The Capricorn have them trapped.”
“How can ye tell?” Jagger asked.
“Through my suckers, how else?”
Ebba’s hands were still raised. “Matey, it’s okay. Just calm down. We’ll figure this out.”
Stubby stood. “Ye need to keep yer oath to the Jendu.”
She stared at her father. If the Capricorn were close, the pirates wanted the kraken on their side. He was their ticket to the next part.
The kraken was panting. “Only if you’re sure?”
“We’re sure,” Barrels said suddenly. “Go now. And hurry back after you defeat them.”
Matey nodded. “I’ll come back for you guys. I swear.”
He sank out of sight, and Ebba hissed, “What’re ye doin’?”
Plank was helping Peg-leg to draw in Grubby from the water and spoke. “He sank Fel— The ship. Even if he means well, his size makes him clumsy. He’s more dang’rous near us than away.”
True enough. The kraken threw himself around without thought.
Grubby groaned as he was pulled back into the rowboat. Soaked, Peg-leg and Plank awkwardly maneuvered him between two of the benches.
“Grubs.” Stubby shook his shoulder.
Her father moaned again.
“That’s a good sign,” Locks said. “We’ll get him back in the water once the Capricorn leave.”
> “I hope the Jendu are okay,” Ebba said, thinking of their pleasant smiles. They’d given her the seaweed, after all.
Barrels cut her off. “One of the bandages is floating over there.”
“Sorry,” Caspian replied, picking the amare up off the wooden bottom. “That was me.”
“Well, let’s get it in, smart-like. If it was what drew the Capricorn here, we don’t want the Jendu to find out and curse us,” Peg-leg said, passing an oar to Jagger. Stubby took up the other, and they rounded to collect the piece of torn and bloodied tunic floating off the port side.
“Want the dynami to help ye row?” she asked Stubby. “Who has it?”
“Ye do, lass,” Peg-leg told her.
Ebba glanced down to her belt. So she did. And the purgium. Hard to keep track, the way these things switched hands.
“I’ll be fine,” Stubby grunted, pulling the oar back through the water.
“Someone else should take the amare,” the prince said. “I’ve had it for hours.” He handed the tube to a grimacing Peg-leg.
She gave Caspian the purgium after, keeping the dynami for herself.
Something splashed to the left. Everyone whirled to look.
Grubby groaned, but they ignored him, scanning the sea.
“What was that?” she whispered.
Another splash came from the right. Half of them turned, the rest staying put so they had eyes everywhere.
Plank held his cutlass in both hands. “I don’t have a good feelin’.”
Grubby groaned and slurred, “What happened?”
He was awake.
Her heart leaped, and Ebba struggled to look at him between the bodies of her other fathers.
Peg-leg bent down. “Grubby,” he said. “Are ye back with us, m’hearty?”
“My head be hurtin’,” he said weakly.
She held her breath as he groaned again.
“Aye, ye took a blow to the noggin’. Again.”
Grubby didn’t reply.
“Is he okay?” Ebba fretted.
“Don’t ye worry, lass. He’s just gone to sleep.”
Her shoulders sagged. “But he’ll wake again?”
“If he did once, I don’t see why he wouldn’t a second time,” Locks answered. “The seawater worked. It must be his selkie side. Ye saved him, Ebba-Viva. Right smart move that was.”
She smiled and tucked her dreads behind her ear. “Thank ye.”
“That’s another splash,” Stubby said. “But whatever it is, it ain’t breakin’ the surface, or it be too quick for me to see.”
Ebba returned to her vigil over the side. “What do ye know about Capricorn, Plank?”
They were all facing outward now, seated on the benches with their weapons drawn. Ebba heard her father take a breath and waited for his ominous story-telling voice.
“They be half-goat, half-fish, and take honor in the triumph of a hunt,” he replied without a trace of his usual passion.
She cast a frown at him, but apparently, he was done. “That’s it?”
“The crux o’ them, aye.”
Barrels expelled a breath. “I never thought I’d say this, Plank, but I prefer the long-winded, embellished version of your stories.”
The lack of interest on Plank’s face twisted the strings of her heart. She turned from the sea and rested a hand on him. “Won’t ye tell the full story? Ye know I enjoy them.”
He didn’t look at her. “Nay, lass. I’ve not the heart for it.”
Not today? Or not any day? “Ye’ve been like this since Felicity sank.”
Plank flinched at her comment.
“What’s wrong with ye?” she demanded. “Why are ye actin’ this way? Like ye. . . .” She stuttered to a halt and then squared her shoulders, pushing on. “Why are ye actin’ like ye wanted to go down with the ship?”
He turned from her, closing his eyes. His voice was ragged when he answered. “Because I did.”
To hear him say such a thing when they weren’t surrounded by the chaos of the sinking ship hurt more than the first time. Shock stole her voice, and she worked to find it again.
“Think o’ what yer sayin’, man,” Stubby said fiercely. “Think o’ who ye’re speakin’ to.”
“Nay,” Ebba choked. “Don’t pretend for my sake. I’m sick o’ that and have been for a long time.” Her voice rose. “Is that what ye’ve done my whole life, Plank? Pretended to live? Is that where ye go in yer daydreams? To death?”
Plank faced her again, and she could see by the roundness of his eyes that something she’d said had reached him. Ebba could pull him out of this. She could—
“Aye,” he said.
Her hope withered. “W-what?” She sucked in a harsh inhale. “Pretendin’ to live or daydreamin’ ye’re dead?”
He returned his gaze to the water.
“Answer me,” she boomed. Since Locks had first told the story of his past, Ebba hadn’t made such a demand, but she made it now.
Why would Plank want to leave them? To leave her? He had to know she couldn’t live without him.
He wouldn’t look at her, and black rage blasted through her chest. She stood and leaned down in his face, pure terror steering her words. “I told ye to answer me.”
“Ebba. . . ,” Locks started.
“Nay. He doesn’t get to be like this when we all need each other. Be sad, cry or scream, but don’t sink into oblivion without a fight.”
Plank glanced up.
“Fight for us,” she repeated, hoping that her words had hooked his attention.
A speck of awareness entered his eyes. It grew until he blinked, as though really seeing her for the first time since Felicity sank. His throat worked, and he jerked his head in a nod.
Ebba whirled away and sat with her back to the others. She felt sick at the thought of how he’d just spoken. Near tears, she rested her elbows on the side of the boat, staring at the blurry wrinkles of her reflection in the sea.
“That was three splashes,” Peg-leg whispered.
“And another,” Stubby added a scant second later.
She had to get ready to protect the vessel—just in case the splashing was the Capricorn—though a part of her held out hope that Matey had sent the Jendu up here.
Taking a final breath, Ebba made to lean back but stopped as her reflection changed. She peered closer as her moss-green irises morphed to horizontal slits.
Funny. It almost looked as though she had. . . .
“Horns,” she burst out, rearing back.
Water exploded in front of her. The boat tipped violently from the other side, and all she glimpsed was a mesh net flying over her head before it closed around her body.
She was yanked forward into the water.
The cries of her crew were lost as Ebba sucked in a large breath a scant second before hitting the ocean. She was towed deeper into the water and kicked frantically, hands flailing to figure out where the attack was coming from.
Her clawing fingers found the net to either side. The mesh pulled in against her back, stopping her movement up to the surface.
They were trying to drown her.
She opened her eyes, squinting through the bubbles. A goat’s head reared before her, and she screamed, releasing most of her air. The immortal had the head of a goat, the arms and torso of a man, and the tail of a fish. There was more than one, and each held a spear.
The dynami warmed at her hips, its tingle spreading through her. She wasn’t about to be drowned by goat-fish. Gripping the net still dragging her down, she pulled with all her strength. The netting parted easily.
Ebba began to tear at the mesh in earnest as her chest tightened.
Plank appeared before her, and her eyes rounded as she tried to silently convey her panic. He held a dagger in his hand and slashed at the net tangled around her legs.
She kicked off the rest and jerked her legs through the water beside Plank, making for the surface. He pressed his dagger into her hand as they swam.
A Capricorn appeared in front of them, and Ebba shouted out the rest of her air as Plank was ripped away.
Her chest tightened in warning. She was no use to her father dead.
She broke the surface, breathing hard. The boat was overturned. Everyone was in the water. And fighting, judging by the water flying in all directions. Capricorn launched from the water in every direction, bearing down to the surface, spears in hand.
Something gripped her leg and she kicked hard. Whatever it was didn’t return a second time.
Plank hadn’t resurfaced.
Taking another breath, Ebba ducked her head under, eyes stinging at the salt in the water. Dagger still in her hand, she kicked in the direction he’d been taken.
Bubbles erupted in a flurry ahead, and she swam hard for the chaos. Plank was in the midst of the bubbles, both hands around the staff of a Capricorn’s spear. He fought for possession of the weapon.
Ebba swam up behind the beast.
The Capricorn could clearly hear underwater, for it turned and dismissed her with a glance, facing Plank again.
A mistake.
A tingling sensation spread out from beneath her belt. Ebba wrapped an arm around the thing’s chest, driving her dagger up beneath its ribs with as much force as she could against the drag of the sea. With the dynami’s help, that was a lot. The dagger slid under the Capricorn’s ribs without resistance.
She pulled the dagger free, ready to go again, but the creature went limp, aqua blood oozing from it into the water.
Plank pushed the Capricorn away and grabbed her hand again. They swam for the surface once more, Ebba lugging him the last three feet as his kicks weakened.
He gasped for air as they emerged.
“The boat,” she panted.
Ebba helped him to the overturned rowboat and clung to the hull as she took stock. “Caspian, Peg-leg, and Barrels,” she said between breaths. “We need to find them first.”
Grubby was the most injured, but he could also breathe underwater.
As though hearing her thought, Grubby burst upward from the water. For a moment, fighting ceased as they watched his glorious arc. Her father’s face was twisted in hatred, a sight she’d never seen. He directed his descent toward the Capricorn surrounding Peg-leg, and a switch was flicked. The battle resumed.
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