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“No, Captain,” she says before scurrying up the netting.
Riden looks after her. “She’s awfully young to be on a pirate ship.”
“Aren’t we all?”
***
There’s a spring in my step as I turn for the companionway. We’re under way now. Our next stop, the Isla de Canta, where riches and glory await. I find myself humming as I reach the top of the steps, but then I halt.
“Really now, Kearan,” I say. He’s facedown on the ground. Likely passed out in his own vomit, yet again. This can’t continue. I’ll have to think of some fitting punishment for him. I couldn’t care less what he does in his free time, but when he’s on duty, he’d better be ready to perform at his best.
Suddenly his whole body jerks upward, and I take a step back in case he’s having some sort of sleeping fit.
“Three,” he says on a raspy breath before leaning down to the ground again.
Is he sleep talking? He’s been known to do that even with his eyes open. No, wait—“Are you doingpush-ups?” I ask.
“F-f-four,” he says as he rises again.
“Sweet stars, you are. What’s gotten into you?”
After five, he lies on the ground and rolls onto his back, breathing heavily. “Just passing the time, is all. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”
Yes, but he usually passes the time with drink.
He reaches into one of his pockets. Ah, there he is.
But what he pulls out isn’t a flask.
It’s a canteen. The kind we use on the ship for storing water. He sits up and takes a few sips.
“What’s in that?”
He holds the canteen out to me, and I take a sniff. It’s water.
“She dumped all of my flasks into the sea while I slept,” Kearan says. “Didn’t realize she cared so much.” He searches across the ship for Sorinda, but she must be belowdecks because he focuses on me once more. “Any more questions, Captain?” His tone sounds bored.
“Are we headed in the right direction?”
“Course, I’m keeping her steady.”
“Good,” I say before moving on quickly.
Lest Kearan break into song or sprout wings.
***
As I exit my quarters the next morning, a black-and-yellow bird perches on the railing at the starboard side, a scroll of paper tied to its left foot.
I don’t need to guess who sent the letter.
Though it’s not addressed to anyone and it bears no signature, I recognize my father’s neat writing.
You took something that belongs to me. Return it immediately, and I’ll make sure your punishment is swift.
Returnit, as though my mother were some prized possession and not a living being. Heat snakes up my neck, but it’s not because of his careless phrasing. Where’s the explanation I’m owed? Is he not going to even attempt to tell me why he lied for years? Why he kept my mother hidden from me? Kalligan is a master at twisting words together. He’s not even trying to sway me to his side.
The briefness of the letter can mean only one of two things. Either he’s furious to the point where most words have left him, or he knows I can’t be reasoned with after what I’ve learned. Either way, I know the letter is a lie. I don’t believe for a second that any punishment he could fathom would be swift.
