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“Okay. Unfortunately, I don’t have time for stories, kid. If it’s about the Jasper incident earlier, there’s no need to rehash it. I would suggest being mindful when talking to the likes of him, though. Captains tend to be overconfident and would target the likes of you for fun…”
He trailed off, realizing Moon wasn’t replying like the bubbly or defensive kid he was. He took in the gangly boy growing taller by the day, a teenager now as opposed to when they had found the kid floating in the ocean ages ago. Something was off.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We have stowaways. Wheeler caught them.”
Stowaways were few and far between, but a stowaway after leaving Ostrov Krov meant only one thing. Wordlessly, he left his quarters with Moon in tow, shadowing the noises in a corner. A figure stood on a plank, hunched over so as not to fall over, while swords were pointed his way. He was a dark-haired man with muscles underneath his dark robes, gaze fixed on the second figure.
The second figure was small, wrapped in equally dark clothes too ill-fitting for his lithe body. This one jerked profusely as he was held from all sides, then glowered with an intense menace. At his footsteps, the gaze turned his way.
“What do we have here?”
If looks could slice, this was it. Isaiah perused the shaggy brown hair, the scowl on defiant lips, the button nose, and the smokiest green eyes on a small, pale face. Alarm kicked in that this one was probably around Moon’s age, maybe a few years older, and it gave perspective to the larger figure’s tense body language. Then recognition clicked.
“You,” Isaiah called out, approaching the one not on the plank. “I saw you loading boxes earlier. Are you here to steal or jeopardize our operation?”
The smaller guy stilled and lifted his chin, defiance written all over his features.
“Neither. We are here to work—if you will let us. We worked for Jasper, but he’s a terrible boss, and we couldn’t stay there any longer.”
Murmurs rose and a protest rang from Marko. Isaiah raised a brow.
“What makes you think I’m a better one?”
“Are you not?”
He detected the nerves, small cracks in the brazen façade that he would otherwise have commended. Figuring it would only take a few taps to break, he went in.
“Stowaways are the start of problems for every ship. They could be spies or traitors, and we can never be too careful. The fact that you jumped ship speaks of your lack of loyalty, and for ours and Jasper’s sake, that should be rewarded accordingly: by getting rid of you. Plank, fellas?” The crew cheered and hollered in agreement. At the stunned silence of the two, he smirked. “Consider it a gift. The alternative would have been cutting your heads off, but that’s reserved for truly barbaric acts.”
There was no need to prompt the guys as they started pushing the other figure to the plank, too, amid protests. But something pushed against the tide, and it wasn’t until one or two stepped back that he spotted Moon in the center. Marko tried to grab Moon’s shirt, but the teenage boy heaved hard and spoke out loud.
“They caught me when I tumbled out of the ship.”
Another bout of silence fell, this one more contemplative. The pushing stopped.
“Tumbled?”
“Almost tumbled,” Moon amended. “They caught me before it could happen.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t have been able to save yourself, Moon?” Isaiah asked.
There was hesitation, then a wince. “I wasn’t paying attention to the wind and got knocked down when I was lowering the flags. It was my fault.”
And it was obvious it cost the boy a lot to even admit that.
“That…changes things,” Isaiah conceded, but he couldn’t just give in when his crew was thrumming with energy like this. He tested it out. “Plank, fellas?”
Only Wheeler replied enthusiastically. “Plank!”
The rest didn’t respond. Moon sneered at him, then turned to Isaiah. Isaiah glanced at Marko.
“What do you think, Marko?”
Silence.
“We could use another set of hands,” the second-in-command said grudgingly, but glowered at Moon. “But next time, ye have to not be an idiot.”
