Rounded stern. But these are not what interest me.
The bowsprit extends twenty feet in front of the ship. Below it, carved out of
the same mixture of wood, is the figure of a larger-than-life-sized woman. She’s
beautiful, with long flowing hair and big glassy eyes—probably made from actual glass. But it’s the dress that leads me to believe that the girl is supposed to be a siren.
She’s wearing a long dress that’s made to look as though it’s rippling underwater. She appears weightless, too, by the way her legs are unattached to the boat, hanging above the water. She is connected only by her back.
I feel as though the entire future rests in my hands as I hurry from Riden’s room. I scurry about the ship, finding myself a long sturdy rope. Using a bowline knot, I attach it to the railing at the bow of the ship.
Effortlessly, I lower myself down and hang right in front of the siren’s large
face. My wrists are mostly healed from hanging in front of the pirates for an entire day. They trouble me little now. Besides, I’m more concerned with finding this map and doing it quickly. A little pain now will be nothing
compared to what could happen should I fail.
I move my hands over the wood that makes up her skin, looking for any hidden slots, trick buttons, or anything else that might be concealed in the wood.
I feel an indent at the top of her hairline, but that turns out to be just a groove in the wood. But my heart raced at the possibility of it. Then it crashes as that proves to be useless as well.
Was Jeskor’s line careless? Did they lose their map over the centuries? Riden
did say his father grew to be sloppy. Maybe he gambled the map away. That would make it nearly impossible to find.
I can hear light footsteps up on deck, but that is likely just the watch. I had to slip past them on my way down here.
How can all this have been for nothing? I’ve been kidnapped, questioned, tortured, and reduced to playing horribly demeaning roles to get what I want.
I’m so furious, the rope I cling to starts swaying. My body is tight, occasionally rocking as I lurch with frustration.
What was that?
I swear I caught a glint of something in her eye. Leaning forward, I cause the
rope to swing again.
There it is again. Her left eye. It looks darker than the right from this angle.
I can feel my blood pounding under my skin. My heart beating in my head. I
reach down to grab a lower end of the rope. I wrap it around my foot several times and then hold the end under my chin. I’ll need both hands for this.
My dagger is still in my boot. Riden has not once asked me for it. He must have forgotten about it.
I wedge the blade in between the glass and the wood and apply pressure at an
angle. The glass pops off, and I barely catch it before it topples into the water.
From the back, I can clearly see that a piece of parchment has been encased
within. How can it be anything else than what I seek?
“Finally,” I say breathlessly.
I cock my head sideways at the one-eyed siren. “Sorry about that. But I need
to take this.”
The eye is about the size of a large apple, but I still manage to fit it into one of my pockets so I can climb the rope. I’m smiling as I haul myself over the edge and drop onto the deck.
But then I look up.
I’m not alone. Not even close.
It appears that the entire crew is on deck. That’ll be including a clothed Riden
and Draxen.
Oh, stars.
“Well, look who it is,” Draxen drawls out. It’s hard to tell his mood. On the
one hand, he looks pleased to have caught me. On the other, he is very unpleased
to see me. I did, after all, leave him knocked unconscious and naked in his room.
“Our little prisoner. Or would thief be a better term here?”
“Thief?” I say with a mixture of confusion and anger.
“Well, you’re either a thief or a whore, princess. Those are the only words that would explain the situation you left the two of us in.”
“I believe the only thing I’ve stolen from the likes of you is your dignity.
Perhaps your reputation.”
Draxen lowers his eyelids. If I thought he hated me when I first came onto the
ship, it’s nothing compared to what he thinks of me now. He takes a step forward.
“Turn out your pockets,” Riden says. I turn my attention over to him. He’s trying so very hard to keep a mask over his face. But something keeps peeking
through. Disappointment? Anger? Maybe even a tinge of sadness?
Am I the reason for that?
Draxen draws his sword. “Turn out her pockets? Why don’t we have the