I caught a whiff of food being cooked. I caught a whiff of food being cooked—apparently pillaging worked up an appetite.
Maddie shot me a look—half irritation, half nerves. “If anyone asks, I’m mute,” she whispered.
“Brilliant,” I muttered back. “Maybe I should be deaf.”
She smirked, but it vanished the moment a soldier rounded the corner. We both stiffened.
“Oi,” the guard barked, “you two—why aren’t you helping with the cargo shift?”
Maddie straightened. “Captain Vasquez gave us orders to reinforce the south hold,” she snapped, in that clipped voice she’d practiced. “There’s been an issue with the prisoners.”
The soldier blinked. Hesitated. Then grunted. “Fine. But they’re getting twitchy up there. Stay sharp.”
We nodded and strode past him, hearts pounding. I let out a slow breath once we were clear.
“How did you know that would work?” I asked.
“I didn’t,” she whispered. “But assholes love being reminded they’re not in charge.”
We wound our way through the narrow halls, boots thudding in sync. The ship was enormous—three decks, and too many rooms for our search to be quick. But I could feel it.
“She’s not on this ship,” I said under my breath.
I couldn’t explain it—just a hollow weight where hope should’ve been.
Maddie didn’t argue. She just nodded and kept moving.
We approached the galley, where a bowl of what looked like slop and bread was being prepared. Maddie reached into the bag hidden under her uniform and pulled out a couple herbs.
“Distract them,” she hissed.
I stepped forward straight away, bumping into the soldier carrying the slop. The slop swirled and spilled down his shirt.
“Look what you did!” he growled, reaching for my collar.
“Sorry, sir,” I clipped out. “Here, I’ll serve up while you clean up.”
The soldier grumbled. “You bet your ass you will. And you’ll do the dishes too.”
“Of course, sir,” I snapped.
The cook left the room, and Maddie darted forward, sprinkling a concoction into the mixture. “Whatever you do—don’t eat the food,” she muttered.
Maddie’s hands moved quickly, her face set with grim precision. She dusted the powdered herbs into the slop like she was seasoning a meal, then stirred in smooth, practiced circles.
“It’s fast-acting,” she said under her breath. “Not immediate—but close. Ten minutes, maybe. Less on an empty stomach.”
I nodded, adjusting my mask and straightening up just as the grumbling cook returned. He barely spared us a glance before picking up the tray and marching off toward the main deck, muttering curses about lazy bastards and extra duties.
We followed at a distance.
The mess hall wasn’t far. Half a dozen Crown soldiers were already seated by the time the food was laid out. More filed in by the minute—tired, hungry, unsuspecting.
I watched the first few spoons go down.
“Now we wait,” Maddie whispered beside me, her hand resting near the hilt of her dagger.
Five minutes passed.
