#wallov

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why don’t I see him waltzing out of your quarters every morning with a spring in his step?”

I laugh. “Because there is nothing going on there.”

“Why not?”

I dare a glance back up at him, watch the purposeful way he moves, watch his muscles tense as he pulls on a line. “He can’t handle what I can do. My abilities terrify him.”

“Any person with sense is terrified by what you can do. That doesn’t mean we don’t all love you.”

“Thanks, but it’s different with him. He has a history with people trying to control him. The fact that I can literally make him do things takes his mind back to a darker time.”

“He’ll get over it,” Niridia says with a certainty that surprises me.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not an idiot.”

I take a deep breath. “I made things worse.”

“What did you do?”

“The few times that I’ve been able to control myself underwater—it’s always been because of Riden. I wanted to get a better handle on my abilities, so I asked him to help me. I asked him to make himself vulnerable like that over and over again.”

“And he said no?” she asks in astonishment.

“Of course he did. I shouldn’t have asked it of him. It was wrong—”

“No, Alosa. What’s wrong is you not trying to do everything in your power to protect your crew. You did the right thing. He’ll see that it’s right, too.”

“There’s no way he’ll come around.”

“Well, not on his own,” she says. “Men can be so thick sometimes. They need help every once in a while.”

I smile. I’d said as much to Riden’s face, but when Niridia starts walking off, the smile drops. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“Niridia!”

“Riden!” she shouts.

He looks down, his eyes roving until they spot her. “Aye?”

“Come down for a moment, please.”

He leaps for the netting and begins to crawl his way down.

“Niridia, he already said no. Leave him alone.”

“Just let me try something. You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then let me do my job on this ship.”

Riden drops into a crouch as his bare feet hit the deck. He straightens, notices me next to Niridia, but focuses on her.

“Do you consider yourself a selfish person, Riden?” she asks brazenly.

If he’s at all uncomfortable with the question, he doesn’t show it. “I can be,” he says.

“I’m the first mate of this ship, which means I see everything that happens. I see you comforting Deshel, see you softening every time Roslyn is around, see you laughing with Wallov and Deros. You’ve grown fond of us, haven’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Now the captain tells me you could be invaluable in helping her control her abilities, thereby helping us survive the pirate king. Do you think she’s right about that?”

He closes himself off, his face turning away slightly.

I’m shocked when a weak “Yes” comes out of him.

“You risked your life for Roslyn once already. You very nearly died for her. Tell me, if the pirate king catches up to us, do you think he will spare her because she is a child?”

His head whips back around. “No,” he says, stronger.

“No one is ordering you to do anything. I just think it’s important for you to see things exactly as they are. You could tilt the odds in our favor, Riden. Remember that when you’re trying to sleep at night.”

And then she just walks off. Leaving me to deal with Riden.

With shirtless Riden.

“I swear I didn’t put her up to that,” I say. “I told her to leave you alone. I was just venting to her, and she got it into her head—”

“It’s all right.”

“Is it?”

“You will recall I was once a first mate. We can be a stubborn bunch.”

He scratches a spot on his arm, and I focus on that instead of his abdomen.

“She’s right,” he says suddenly, drawing my gaze to his face. “I don’t like it, and I can’t promise that I won’t lash out afterward—but we need to do this.”

“If there were any other way for me to do this, I wouldn’t have asked. I’ve tried my whole life to control this. My father put me through all kinds of—never mind. That’s not important. I’m just saying that if the pirate king ruled it out as a lost cause, then I know you really are my last option.”

“Hmm” is all he says.

“When should we start?” I ask tentatively.

“Probably the sooner, the better.”

“Probably.” A pause. “So … now?” I venture.

“Yes.”

Her grin exposes a loose tooth bent slightly out of place. “I’ve got something for you.” She holds up a ring of keys.

“I knew you’d save us,” Wallov says, a father’s pride glinting in his eyes.

How could I have forgotten little Roslyn? Stowed away all this time in her hidey-hole up in the crow’s nest. “How did you get the keys?”

“I had to wait for the girly-looking fellow to fall asleep,” she says apologetically. Riden gives me a look that says, Didn’t I tell you? “It was a good thing his ears were covered the whole time because the keys jangle so.”

“Sneaky little thief,” I exclaim proudly.

She steps in front of her father’s cell. “The next time you’re cross with me, Papa, I want you to remember this moment.” She inserts the key into the lock. “Oh, and Captain?”

“Yes?”

“I want to fight with the crew in six years’ time.” Her voice changes slightly, as though she’s trying for a more adult tone. She could never mask the chirp of a six-year-old girl, but it’s something adorable watching her try.

I raise a brow at her, achieving what I hope is a slightly stern look.

She bites the inside of her cheek, but waits to twist the key.

I look behind her at Wallov, who is trying to keep from laughing.

“Seven,” I say.

“Done,” she says, flicking her wrist. An excited smile nearly splits her face in half.

A gunshot explodes through the mostly quiet brig. Every head turns toward the entrance where Tylon has appeared, a furious scowl spread across his face.

A cloud of smoke overtakes his features for a moment.

My eyes drift down to where he has his pistol extended in front of him.

I follow its line of progress to where Roslyn stands.

Blood spurts wildly from her head.

And she falls.

. . . 

A new sense of urgency overtakes me as a pool of blood forms near Roslyn.

I unlock my cell, toss the keys to Riden, and run to her, but Mandsy reaches her first, ripping off a section of her trousers to staunch the bleeding.

But I know how hard it is to survive a head wound. And for one so small.

Trembling fingers reach for her pulse.

It’s still there. How is it still there?

“It skimmed her head, Captain,” Mandsy says. “Knocked her out. There’s a lot of blood, but I could see her skull intact underneath. If I can just get the bleeding under control—”

“Do what you can. I’m going after Tylon.”

I throw myself into the fray, tossing enemy pirates around like they’re rocks. I have metal bars at my disposal, so I ram heads into them in my search for Tylon. I finally catch sight of Wallov through the chaos. He’s got Tylon by the shoulders, and he slams his head into the ground over and over. I don’t know how long Tylon has been dead, but Wallov doesn’t seem to notice anything at all.

I rush to him and pin his arms to his sides.

“Wallov, she’s alive. Calm down.”

“I was meaning his emotional well-being, Captain.”

“You can’t be serious. Kearan has the emotional depth of a clam.”

“Well, a man can try, can’t he? I wouldn’t be doing my job as his friend if I didn’t try.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Kearan shouts from the other end of the ship. “We are not friends!”

“Yes, we are!” Enwen shouts back.

“Stop yelling,” I tell Enwen. “Sort it out yourselves. I have work to do.”

“Captain, wait!” A different voice this time. Little Roslyn’s. She intercepts me before I get a foot through the hatch. “I need to talk to you about having a celebration.”

“A celebration?”

“For getting the map and stealing the pirate lord’s treasure! Niridia said we couldn’t last night because you had to lock yourself in the brig for the night to let the siren out.”

“That’s true. And right now I have a prisoner to interrogate. How about tonight?”

“That works for me,” she says. As though she might have had an important appointment scheduled. “Can I help with the prisoner?”

“No.”

She crosses her arms, ready to argue.

“Have you practiced your letters today?”

She throws her head back and sighs angrily.

“No interrogating prisoners when you haven’t performed your own chores.” Not that I’d let her help anyway. She doesn’t need to witness me torturing a man. “And no celebrating if you haven’t practiced.”

“Oh, all right,” she says, stomping off.

. . .

“Your daughter is getting awfully cheeky, Wallov,” I say.

“Can’t imagine where she gets it from, Captain,” he says.

“I hope you’re not suggesting she’s getting it from me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. But his tone is too light to be sincere. I smile at him.

“You two are relieved for now,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye on the brig rats.”

They both scoot out of their chairs, starting for the stairs. “And see to it, Wallov, that Roslyn is actually practicing her writing and not threatening people with that dagger.”

“Isn’t it a beautiful piece of work, Captain? Won it off Deros in one of our games.”

Deros folds his massive arms. “I lost on purpose so the lass would have a way to protect herself.”

“You were gone too long,” she says. “Next time, take me with you.”

“There was fighting to be done on this trip, Roslyn. Besides, I needed you here watching after my ship.”

“But I can fight, Captain. Papa’s been teaching me.” She reaches behind her too-big britches and pulls out a small dagger.

“Roslyn, you’re six years old. Give it ten more, then we’ll see.”

Her eyes scrunch up in a glare. Then she lunges for me.

She’s quick, I’ll give her that, but I still dodge her blade effortlessly. Without pausing, she swings back around and swipes at me. I leap backward, then kick the dagger out of her reach. She crosses her arms defiantly.

“All right,” I say, “we’ll check again in eight years. Satisfied?”

She smiles, then rushes in to give me another hug.

“You’d think I didn’t exist,” Wallov says to Deros from somewhere behind me.