Page 58 of Rebel in the Deep

“And yet that’s never the outcome of these kinds of events.” She stops just out of reach. “You know, I like you better now that you’ve mostly set aside the charming-rake bullshit.”

“Darling, Iama charming rake.”

She smiles thinly. “From the scent of Bastian and Siobhan mingled with yours, I believe you.” She continues before I can decide how I feel aboutthat. “Maeve won’t be content to hide with your crew. She’s determined to see this through.”

I’ve heard about the feats Maeve accomplished in her time seeking her stolen pelt. I’ve also heard about how she almostdied in the attack that sank theCrimson Hag. “This won’t be a water battle. She’s better off staying in Yoth.”

“Undoubtedly,” Lizzie agrees easily—too easily. “But Maeve won’t listen to reason.”

I narrow my eyes. “I would think you’d be invested in keeping her out of combat.”

“I am.” She shrugs. “But she’s not a child to be tucked away while the grown-ups talk. She’ll make her own decision about this—and I’ll be there to ensure no one lays a single finger on her.”

While the selkie’s contribution might come into question, no one can argue that Lizzie is dangerous enough for both of them. Her ability to subdue large numbers of people rivals mine. If I were a better person, I’d tell them both to stay behind to keep them safe.

I’m not a better person. I want to live. More than that, I want everyone in Threshold to live a life without fear that a roving crew of Cwn Annwn will cause havoc in their community. To have even a chance of us accomplishing that, I need Lizzie with us. “I’d be glad to have you.”

“I know.” This time, when she smiles, she flashes a hint of fang. “And if I’m defending Maeve’s life, she can’t get grumpy about how I choose to do it.”

I give her the look that statement deserves. We both know Maeve would rather incapacitate than kill anyone, even her worst enemy. She’s got a big heart, and though she’s a fearsome fighter in the water, she will always look for a peaceful resolution. The fact that she ended up with a vampire who enjoys seeing the light leaveherenemies’ eyes will never cease to amuse me.

“Just thinking about it is getting me hungry.” Lizzie turns away. “We’ll be ready when we reach Yoth.”

I watch her walk away. Maybe it was a mistake to change the plan after yesterday’s vote, but the growing certainty inside me says otherwise. A small group is more likely to infiltrate Lyari than an entire crew, and most of the people on this ship have specialties and experience that would be difficult to utilize on dry land.

Or maybe it’s just that I don’t want to lose a single one of them.

It’s tempting to return to my cabin—to my bed with a sleeping Bastian and Siobhan in it—but there’s work to be done. I climb the stairs to the upper deck and nod to Frost and Derry, both of whom weave slightly on their feet in a way that has nothing to do with the movement of the deck beneath our feet. “I’ve got it from here. Go get some rest.”

They exchange looks. “You were in bad shape yesterday, Captain,” Frost says. Ne is a tall half giant with deep purple skin and a mohawk ne likes to wear in rainbow colors. Today, it’s pink fading through purple to blue. “We can finish the shift.”

“I know you can.” The last thing I want to do is undercut my crew’s contributions. “But I had a restful night and we’ve got a long week ahead of us. Rest while you can, because there will be little enough of it in our future.”

Frost looks like ne wants to keep arguing, but Derry nudges nem with her shoulder. “You were just complaining about starving. Let’s go eat.”

Frost mutters a little more, but eventually submits to Derry’s nudging and follows her down the stairs to the hatch that leads belowdecks.

I roll my shoulders and tug on the strands of wind surging high above us, guiding them down to fill our sails. Not toomuch—that way lay ruin—but just enough to increase our pace.

It’s draining—more so than normal, due to my reckless magic use in the last week—but not so much that I’m in any danger. Not for hours yet. The next shift change is in two hours. I can hold on until then.

It’s a beautiful fucking day. The clouds are low and sparse, giving plenty of space for the sun to shine through. The breeze is playful and more than willing to dance to my whim. It’s lovely.

But now, standing here without any crew or quartermaster or navigator to hold my attention, it’s all too easy to fall back into the memory of last night.

Siobhan’s taste. Bastian’s touch. The slick rhythm of three bodies moving in perfect synchronization. It felt like a promise that I’m not sure any of us can uphold. We’re sailing into near-certain death, and even if we weren’t, playing with tools of the gods is a good way to end up tormented eternally.

Or at least that’s what some of our oldest stories say.

I’ve never put much stock in those stories, but recent events have shown me the error of my ways. Maybe I should have been a historian instead of a captain. It certainly seems more useful.

“Lovely day.”

It’s a testament to how deep I am in my thoughts that I didn’t realize the old woman had climbed the steps, trailing sweet smoke behind her. I give Dia a long look. “You know, smoking will kill you.”

“So will everything else in Threshold.” She inhales deeply and then offers me a blunt of truly impressive size.

I shrug and take it. With my future numbered in daysinstead of decades, there’s no reason not to take a second inhale. The smoke burns my throat and sinuses, making my head light.

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