Page 66 of Virelai's Hoard
Calla looked at him, at a loss for words.
Behind him, she spotted a head of dark curls, ducking out of view, getting lost in the crowd.
Kittredge looked between him and Sable, between Calla and Eryx, lips pressed tight, as if she were only just merely stopping herself from screaming out in frustration.
Ignatius didn’t look happy when he said, “A sacrifice to the sea might seem harsh, but all of us dying because we’re refusing to? That’s harsher, eh?”
“You’re only saying that because it’s notyourneck on the line. You’d change tune real quick if the one marked by the sea were you.” Calla had never witnessed Merrow’s anger, and the glassy sheen of his eyes was something a different version of her would’ve flinched from.
As it stood, she dug her fingernail into the wood of the helm until it splintered. The nail or the wood, it didn’t matter. The pain was a relief, tethering her against the call of the water. She couldn’t do this for much longer.
You do not need to do this for much longer. Just see this done, and it will all be over.
Haddock looked at them all with a meek shake of his head, holding onto the ship’s railing to steady himself on his feet. The day and night work to make the Moonshadow sea-worthy again had sapped much of his strength, and he still hadn’t recovered. “Oh, dear children. A mutiny against the captain is not a thing to be taken lightly. I’ve seen this sort of thing end in bloodshed more than once, and then more than a single life will be lost. For what?” He turned his clear blue eyes on Sable. “Areyoufit to be our captain? You hide it well, but you’re always so scared I wonder how it is you haven’t choked on it yet.”
Sable’s eyes snapped to him, widening. “You’re just a shriveled old fool,” she snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But the others looked at her differently, whispered with new realization. Even Venn turned thoughtful.
The balance was slowly shifting, and Sable’s stance turned defensive. No one looked at Eryx. Eryx themselves had yet to say a word. The mist pressed in closer, thick and claustrophobic.The sea demanded a decision. A decision Calla had to take, because no one else would.
As if she had complete trust that her crew was still her crew and that they would listen to her, Calla said, “Everyone, get under deck. None of you need to be here for this.”
Her pirates understood what she didn’t say. Everyone but Eryx.
Sable’s machete clattered to the wooden planks as Thorian grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back.
There was a lost look on her first mate’s face, then her eyes closed. When she opened them again, it was with new determination. She looked at Nyxen. “You were only wrong about one thing before,” she said. The deck hushed in anticipation. “We didn’t know what we were signing up for, because the captain hasn’t been entirely honest with us.” Her gaze fixed on Calla’s, and Calla’s blood ran cold. “Were you, Calla?”
21. The Breaking Point
Riley
Riley rushed down the empty corridors of the Moonshadow, the chaos on deck making its way to her through the dimmed booms and vibrations of the voices above. The scuffing of feet, the tramps of boots pacing. Her heart thundered above them all. This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for. And she had to hurry, or it would be too late to choose.
Heavy breaths and jittery hands, she now stood in front of Calla’s door. Patch leapt on the ground and pawed at it, then looked up at her. She took out a pin from her sleeve and knelt down. Soft metal rattling filled her ears as she worked at the keyhole. Her hands shook, and she had to tighten her grip to keep her movements steady, force herself to focus on the task at hand.
She wanted to know what the distant voices were saying, which way the crew leaned, but this was more important. She needed to know who she could trust. Was it Calla, distant and aloof and willing to make the hard choices to get what she wanted? Or Sable, brash and impulsive and, under the surface, too kind-hearted for her own good? Riley needed to know. She needed to know what Calla had been hiding away before it was too late.
The lock gave in with a dullclick, and Riley let out a soft exhale. This was it. No one was here to stop her anymore. Every other soul on this ship was up on deck, so engrossed in the impending mutiny that, for the first time, they paid no mind to her.
Patch rushed into the room with a happy squeak as Riley opened the door, and she stepped in after him. She didn’t bother closing it at her back. As if the rat knew her intentions, he made straight for the locked chest at the foot of Calla’s bed, walking rounds around it, his whiskers twitching in the air.
Once again, Riley knelt, taking hold of the heavy iron lock. Her hands shook harder. She dropped the pin on the floor. Once. Twice.
“Fucking piece of–”
Steadying herself, she inhaled deeply and pulled off her glove, then tried again. The tips of her fingers went white as they pinched the pin, and her muscles ached with the effort of keeping her hands steady, but she didn’t drop the pin anymore. It rattled inside the lock, just like her thoughts rattled inside her head.
Imagine there’s nothing in here.
She scoffed and shook the intrusive thoughts away.
Click.
Riley’s hands stilled. She held her breath. This was it. Finally.
The lock fell to the floor with a dull thunk. Riley’s hand reached for the chest.
