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“Do they ever leave?” she whispered.
“They do. But that’s either a good thing or a bad thing.”
Isaiah’s voice jolted her senses, but she focused on his hand tapping Wheeler, who was already half-asleep. Wheeler straightened.
“Hey, Captain.”
“Get some rest. I will take over.”
Wheeler nodded, then heavily slunk his way to his cabin. She waited for Isaiah to sit beside her.
“Why is it either a good or bad thing?” she finally asked.
“It means they got bored. Or it means they are calling for reinforcements and springing a trap.”
She noted the certainty in his tone.
“You have done this. Several times.”
“Once or twice. The last time was bad.”
“How bad?”
“They sprung their trap,” he confirmed. “We didn’t realize our ship was sinking further until we were near their lower territory and about to cross. Let’s just say we managed to steer the ship away just in time.”
“Let me guess. They were waiting on the other end.”
“That’s right.”
He stood up and strolled toward the wooden railing, gripping the edge inches where the dome started. A couple of the merman creatures whizzed toward him, baring their teeth and restarting their swipes on the sheen. The sound grated her ears, but she ambled over to stand beside him.
“How long do we have until we resurface?”
A grin burst from his mouth. “Are you that sick of my presence, darling?”
Fascination rose at the way his grins and smiles changed his facial structure, amplifying scars but also emphasizing his roguish charm. The man was brimming with it, a dangerous allure that shouldn’t appeal as much as it did.
“Stop calling me that. You are going to risk the others overhearing.”
“Then I will just call you that in private.”
She bit back her shiver at his low voice, glaring at him. He playfully tugged on her wig, then shrugged.
“If you must truly know, I have no answer. It depends on how fast the gemstone breaks. But the good news is that when we do surface, it won’t be in the same place we descended…ah, Moon, there you are.”
Moon stood on the deck, rubbing the sleep off his eyes and stretching his limbs. Isaiah approached him, gathering items along the way. To her surprise, the teenage boy caught the sword thrown at him with ease, then was already ready in a defensive stance. The captain circled him lazily, eyes swimming with laughter. Then they sharpened into a quiet assessment.
“Ready?”
“I—”
The first swipe came. An amateur would have assumed it was a direct aim for the belly, but she knew enough to deduce that the man was holding back. Moon, obviously an amateur, jumped back. “Captain!”
“Wake up, kid. An enemy never asks if you are ready. Ready?”
“I am—”
Another swipe, another leap. She cheered inwardly at the boy’s instincts, then watched Moon’s concentration deepen.
