Every head turned my way.
Dad’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t command me to speak, but the weight of his attention was permission enough.
“The fishmen are planning to betray us. Last night, Captain Oannes sent a carrier pigeon to a Somalian slaver, informing him of our presence.” I paused to let that sink in. “The captain plans to sell you, Rust, and Mack. I’m… I’m being kept for the crew.”
Silence.
Mack’s expression hardened. Rust pushed away from his hammock, the drowsiness gone from his eyes.
The alpha didn’t move. “How do you know this?”
Here it came. With a deep, fortifying breath, I said, “I left the sick bay last night, climbed up to the crow’s nest, and overheard a conversation between Lakhmu and the captain. I saw them send the pigeon.”
His eyes narrowed. “They spoke in English?”
“No. But it was clear they were talking about us. After they left, I climbed down and found the fire sprite they keep caged in the bow of the ship. She’s what fought off the snake, and she told me of their plans. She promised to help us escape if I freed her.”
Dad’s jaw ticked. The tendons in his neck stood out like cables. I watched his hand drift to the hilt of his sword, and I genuinely feared he might use it on me.
“Did you free her?”
“I did.”
He scoffed. “On a wooden ship. I’m surprised we’re still floating. She must have bailed immediately.”
“She made a vow to help us, to not torch the ship until we’re gone, and to wait for my signal before she attacks. Sprites can’t break their word.”
He frowned but didn’t dispute the claim. Hopefully, that meant it was true, and Anunit hadn’t lied to me.
“You disobeyed a direct order.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Again.”
“Yes, Alpha.” I held his gaze and bared my throat. “And now we won’t be walking into this trap unaware.”
I knew better than to try to justify my actions. Dad wasn’t looking for excuses or reasons. He wanted submissive compliance from me, but I was only trying to help. He had to see that. The silence that stretched between us grew teeth. They nibbled at the edges of my sanity, making me want to scream that my disobedience had been necessary.
“What else did this sprite tell you?” Rust finally asked, putting me out of my misery.
I released my breath and told him about Oannes.
Once I finished, Rust said, “What’s the plan, Alpha?”
Dad peered out the porthole. Following his gaze, I caught the dark smudge of land in the distance against the pale sky. We were running out of time.
“Where’s the dinghy?” he asked.
“Port side, off the quarterdeck. There’s a canvas tarp covering it.”
“Weapons?”
“Their cutlasses appear to be standard steel, nothing enchanted,” Rust said, surprising precisely no one with his reconnaissance.
Dad pushed off the wall and slid Mack’s spear out of the door, tossing it to him. “How many crew topside at any given time?”
Mack stood just in time to catch it. “Half. Seven on, seven off. The captain seems to float.”
