Hiking up her toga, Ebba stomped up the circling path, talking herself into a rage that would chase away her fear.
“Ye want a fight?” she hissed to herself. “I’ll rip yer ugly horns off and shove ‘em so far up yer goat parts, ye’ll think ye’re a horse.”
Footsteps pounded down the path, and Ebba halted, pressing to the side of the path, away from the drop down into the lagoon. Her bravado fell away.
“I won’t shove ‘em anywhere,” she whispered, yelping as thorns dug into her arm.
Two men appeared around the bend, and Ebba stared, skull buzzing for a full three seconds.
“Jagger?” she called.
The nearest of the men lifted his head, and Ebba’s breath caught at the fury in his silver eyes. She looked past him.
“Caspian,” she gasped.
He’d slowed behind Jagger, but he pushed past the pirate as she launched herself toward them. His arm wrapped around her, and she wrapped her arm around his middle, her other hand caught against his chest.
“What are ye doin’ here?” she rushed to say. “There be goat-men about, Satyr—”
“We know,” he said, his hand moving to the back of her head to press her closer. “We know.”
“We’ve got to go,” Jagger said in a low voice.
Caspian tipped her head back and brought his lips to hers. The kiss was fast, hard, life-affirming and left Ebba gaping at him. They’d never kissed in front of anyone before. Well actually, Jagger saw the first one. But they hadn’t known that at the time.
It made her uncomfortable. But she had a feeling that her current discomfort wasn’t over the publicity of the kiss but because the kiss was in front of Jagger specifically.
“We need to free the Capricorn down in the lagoon,” she said, ignoring the sudden tension in the air.
Jagger hissed, “Capricorn.”
“The males only brought me here because the Satyr imprisoned their females fifty years ago,” she explained, moving past the prince to talk to Jagger.
That seemed to mollify him.
“I promised we’d get them out,” Ebba said, turning to the prince for help.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face drawn as though he hadn’t slept in days. But he nodded. “Okay, let’s hurry.”
“And how are ye proposin’ we do that? Carry them back to the sea one at a time?” Jagger gripped Ebba’s hand. “We can’t save them. We need to leave.”
She tried to break his hold. “Nay, you didn’t see them, Jagger. They have to dance for the Satyr just for their food each day.”
The stoniness of his gaze flickered at that. Then was gone.
“Ye’re heartless,” she said, trying to draw away from him again.
“Nay,” he said tightly, stepping in so he was right before her. “Never think that o’ me, Viva. But gettin’ ye away from here takes pr’ority. We can’t win this round if we try to save them now.”
She blinked at his nearness, and want swept through her with the force of a tidal wave. She yearned for his touch, his attention, in a way she’d never yearned for anything or anyone. Something had unlocked within her, and after recent events, she wasn’t at a loss to understand the emotion.
Ebba was entirely attracted to Jagger. Fiercely attracted.
The heat Caspian inspired was pleasant. Safe. Secure. This entire time she’d waited to feel the deeper regard that he felt for her—her major concern being missing the arrival of it.
But, she realized, this is what regard felt like. A burning uncertainty that made her heart pound and her breath come short.
. . . And it wasn’t for the prince.
Caspian rested a hand on her shoulder. “Ebba, maybe he’s right. . . .”
She jumped. What?
“I am right,” the pirate snapped. “Ye choose yer fathers or the Capricorn. Which is it?”
Ebba’s chest rose and fell, and not for the reason it should. Focusing her thoughts on the present, she glanced down in the direction of the lagoon.
Jagger gripped her chin, dragging her gaze back to the sculpted lines of his face. She’d always recognized he was handsome. Why was she only just feeling this overwhelming inferno? Was it that the veritas had confirmed Ebba could trust Jagger? Or was the awakening of her body’s urges entirely due to her meetings with Calypso?
Or was it both?
“Which is it?” he repeated angrily.
She jumped again, heart leaping into her mouth. “Huh?”
“Yer fathers or the Capricorn?”
Relief poured through her. She hadn’t spoken aloud.
Ebba closed her eyes, dragging her thoughts back yet again. “My fathers, o’ course.”
“Exactly, forget the rest. Don’t confuse yer priorities. There’ll come a day when we might be able to save them, but not if we don’t first save ourselves.”
He was so cutting, so ruthless. To make a decision so forcefully shook her deep down. But if it came to her fathers or the Capricorn. . . . If she couldn’t have both, as guilty as it made her feel, Ebba would choose her crew every time. She could respect his ruthlessness.
“Let’s go,” she said raggedly.
“It will all work out, Ebba,” Caspian said in an undertone.
“Wait,” Jagger said, pulling off his tunic. “Ye can’t run in that. Though . . . I’d like to see ye try.”
He would? Did he find her attractive? Did he feel what she felt?
Muffling a groan, Ebba realized her attraction to Jagger might not be entirely without its drawbacks. This angst had to be what Caspian felt for her; so uncertain and excited, so terrified and hopeful. She had to straighten out the expectations with the prince as soon as they got out of this mess. He deserved her complete honesty. This attraction she felt for the pirate was here to stay—for the time being, anyway. She had to tell the prince they couldn’t be together because although Ebba trusted Caspian with her life, loved him as a friend, the mere thought of him didn’t leave her breathless. She couldn’t say if Jagger returned her regard, or if what she felt would become anything deeper, but she hoped the prince could come to understand her decision. That their friendship might soon be on the rocks made her wish she’d never agreed to explore things between them in the first place.
Sure, he’d known she might say no. But saying a simple no felt different than saying no because she’d developed a regard for someone else.
Sink her.
Ebba accepted Jagger’s shirt without a word, shrugging it on and avoiding Caspian’s sharp stare.
Once covered, she strode to the path’s edge and called down, “I’ll be back for ye, I swear it. Don’t be losin’ hope; ye have friends.”
Feeling the weight of responsibility more than ever, Ebba set off after Caspian and the bare-chested Jagger up the path.
They reached the top of the small hill and started down the other side to the Satyr’s clearing. They kept up their pace, and Ebba attempted to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible.
The prince sank to a crouch behind some of the wiry shrubs as they neared the bottom of the path. From their elevated position, she could see the clearing the Satyr had first led her to.
“Where are my fathers?” she said, clutching her side and panting.
“Ye’re injured,” Jagger whispered.
His intricate chest tattoo was on display, gleaming with a layer of perspiration. Ebba cleared her throat. “Nay, the wound just opened a tad. I ain’t slept, drank or ate much in a few days. I’ll be all right. Fill me in.”
She wanted off this island with the five parts of the weapon, her crew, and ideally a ship. And the sixth part.
And the female Capricorn.
“Matey and the Jendu drew the Satyr’s attention to the southern end of the island,” Caspian said, eyes searching the darkness.
“The Jendu are helpin’?” she asked.
“You saved the niece of someone important, from what I gather. They forgave us for drawing the Capricorn with the bloody bandages an
d even came here to help us. Either that or the amare has a lingering effect, but I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Ye’d know,” muttered Jagger to the prince.
The prince quietened.
“What?” Ebba glanced between them. “What about the amare?”
Caspian shook his head. “Not important.”
Jagger looked like he had something to say about that, but at a sharp look from the prince, he smirked instead of replying.
Right. “What do ye both know about the Satyr?”
Jagger said darkly, “Enough to drive us all insane the last three days. We didn’t think we’d find ye in one piece. As ye were.”
Ebba didn’t pretend to misunderstand his meaning. “Aye, I was worried about that myself when I saw what they did to the women in the lagoon.” She shivered but forced away those somber thoughts. “They weren’t to harm me, though. They—”
She said in alarm, “It’s a trap. They were tryin’ to lure all o’ ye here to deliver us to someone else. The pillars, I think. They’re collectin’ the parts. That’s why they cleaned me up. To make me pr’sentable for their boss.”
Caspian sighed. “You should have told us immediately. We have to warn the crew.”
His disappointment stung. Yet she thought jealousy might be at work under his words too. “I’m sorry; it hasn’t been that long. We have to alert my fathers that the pillars could be on their way.”
“It wouldn’t have changed a thing until now,” Jagger said in a calm voice. “Worryin’ about the pillars will only distract from what needs to be done. We’ll handle that when it needs handlin’.”
She threw a grateful smile at him, but he didn’t see, scanning the area ahead.
Her eyes dropped to his chest tattoos, and her mouth dried.
Seriously? Right now? This attraction stuff was not to be underestimated.
“I ain’t sure I can forget about the pillars,” Ebba admitted, her eyes tracing the inked tip of a spear that ran in line with his collarbone. “I swore I’d never go through what happened on Malice again. I ain’t sure I could handle it a second time.”
Jagger glanced at Caspian and then at her.
She tore her eyes from his body, horror flooding through her.
“If the kraken lost their attention, yer fathers were to make a ruckus on the eastern beach,” Jagger said, arching a brow, but thankfully not commenting on her staring.
But he’d noticed.
Cheeks flaming, Ebba rose in a stooped crouch. “Let’s go to them.”
“No, we need to get the parts back,” Caspian said.
“Aye,” Jagger agreed.
Frustration needled her. “Well, where are the parts?”
Both turned to her and Ebba shrugged. “I have no idea. They carried them in nets, but I was parted from the Satyr hours ago. They could be anywhere.”
“Get down,” Jagger suddenly hissed.
Ebba lowered and shrank into a small ball, her head raised just high enough above the wiry shrubs to watch as flaming torches moved in a procession toward the clearing below.
She could hear the clop of the Satyr’s hooves. A lot of them. And another sound.
“My fathers are on the eastern beach, ye say?” she said in the quietest voice possible.
Neither male answered.
Wherever they’d been, her fathers weren’t there anymore.
They were being dragged, hands and necks trussed up as hers had been, into a ring of stomping Satyr.
Nineteen
“Get the female mortal.”
Ebba froze at the Satyr’s order, wedged between the warm bodies of Caspian and Jagger.
“I’m the female mortal,” she frantically whispered to them. “They’ll come up the path to find me.”
To her astonishment, Jagger looked ready to laugh at her exclamation.
“Ye’ve got one twisted sense o’ humor. It ain’t funny,” she snapped. “We’ve got to move.”
“Have I ever said I like it when ye get mad, Viva?” Jagger answered, eyes fixed on her. “It’s like watchin’ a tropical storm from afar.”
She stared at him, her stomach erupting into flutters—as though a hundred drunken Sallys flew within. That comment could be taken as an insult, but instead it made her feel giddy.
“Where to?” Caspian said forcefully. “We’ll get torn to shreds if we head into those vines. And even then, I doubt they’ll miss us.”
Ebba shook off the flustered heat Jagger’s comment had caused. They needed somewhere to hide.
“Is there anywhere else to escape from the lagoon?” Jagger asked, the amusement gone from his eyes as hooves pounded toward them.
There was nowhere. Nothing but a lagoon. They could hold their breath underwater, perhaps. But for how long? And if Ebba wasn’t found, how would the female Capricorn be punished by the Satyr?
Something occurred to her.
“Stay here,” she said.
The galloping thunder swelled, and Ebba launched herself upright and sprinted down the path toward the Satyr, who had no idea Jagger and Caspian were there. If the pair were smart, they’d stay put and figure out a way to save her and the rest of the crew.
Rounding the corner, Ebba shrieked as four Satyr bowled up the path toward her. She lifted an arm to protect her face, curling her body to protect her injured side and waited to be trampled to death.
The air whooshed from her as she was swept up with the delicacy of a stone wall.
At least they’d connected with her left side, not her wounded side. She still gasped for air, trying to orient herself with the violent cantering of the Satyr holding her.
She didn’t miss the sharp turn of her escort. They were galloping downhill toward the clearing. Ebba schooled her features, hoping not a speck of elation showed on her face.
Caspian and Jagger were still free.
“Ebba! Get yer hands off her, ye horned bastard,” Peg-leg howled.
The Satyr dropped her before their leader, but Ebba was up as soon as she landed, clutching her side as she raced to her fathers.
Locks sank to his knees, emerald eye blazing. “Ebba, love. Are ye okay?”
Plank wrapped her in his arms wordlessly, and she hugged him tightly before going to Locks and Peg-leg, and then Barrels and Stubby.
“Lass, please don’t ever sacrifice yerself for a Jendu again,” Stubby whispered. “I don’t care who dies if it means ye live.”
Ebba didn’t share that same cold-blooded streak as her fathers, but she understood he meant every word. Her fathers would kill others to save her—the Satyr, Jagger, Caspian, and even each other. It repelled her as surely as it wound her closer to them. For no one could love her as much as they did, and despite the brutality that lay buried under so many layers, her soul knew theirs, needed theirs.
“They had the parts. I had to. Where’s Grubby?” she asked, peering over Stubby’s shoulder.
“Hey, Ebba!” He waved, smiling a toothy grin.
She sucked in a breath.
Stubby nodded subtly. “Aye, he’s back.”
Ebba released him to inspect Grubby as the Satyr pressed in behind their group. “The knock left his . . . skull empty o’ rum again?”
“As far as we can tell, lass,” Stubby answered. “And we don’t have the purgium to heal him.” This comment was accompanied by a sigh of hearty relief.
Ebba looked pointedly at him, denying the twin twinges of relief within her. If they didn’t have the purgium, Grubby could stay his usual happy self. Ebba had to admit that she wasn’t eager to see the arrogant selkie version of him anytime soon—no matter how smart that version was.
“How many?” the leader yelled behind her.
Her fathers closed around her, but Ebba wasn’t having any of that. She squeezed between Barrels and Plank, staring out at the Satyr.
One of the goat-men trotted down the line. “Seven.”
The leader shoved the larger Satyr aside and glared at their crew. “Two
are missing.”
She trained her eyes on his horned head so as not to give Jagger and Caspian’s location away. Where in Davy Jones’ were they getting their information? How could this Satyr possibly know anything about the workings of their ship and its crew?
Peg-leg shrugged as the Satyr glared down at him. “Don’t look at me, matey. I can’t count.”
“—Aye, I can’t remember past five seconds ago—”
“—It’s our age—”
“—But don’t ask us how old. I lost count at twenty—”
“My last memory be my . . . my twelfth birthday—”
“I can’t think,” Grubby said happily.
“Enough,” the Satyr roared. “There were two young male mortals in your company. Where are they?”
“Was one of them bald as the day he was born?” Ebba asked, screwing up her face.
The Satyr’s fury dropped like an unfurled sail as he neared Ebba and lowered his horned head. He inhaled deeply.
“It’s flower stuff,” she supplied. “Do ye like it?”
“Male,” he hissed.
Ebba frowned. That was pretty accurate on a day-to-day basis, but she knew for a fact she smelled of one million pungent blossoms right now.
She glanced down. At Jagger’s tunic. “Why’re yer sails in a wad? I was cold and put my tunic back on.”
He inhaled again, and her fathers crowded on either side.
“No,” the leader said with a cruel smile. “The scent is fresh. A strong male.”
He turned so quickly that Ebba threw herself back from his kicking legs.
“Check the lagoon path for the others,” the Satyr boomed.
Eight of the beasts peeled away from the back of the group and cantered up the hill toward the start of the descending lagoon path.
She exchanged a loaded look with Plank.
“The parts, little nymph. Where are they?”
Ebba dropped her voice. “I lost sight o’ them a while back. But this was always a trap. They want us gathered so they can take us to their boss. I’m thinkin’ it be the pillars. The Satyr are filled with taint. I saw it when I held the sword.” Her voice shook. Sink her, her crew couldn’t be tainted any more. She couldn’t be tainted again. They had to get out of here.
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