Page 55 of Ship of Shadows
“You cannot be serious right now. You’re going to have to put those sheets back on, you know.”
I stalked to the other side of his cabin, pulling out his desk, my muscles straining with the effort.
“For fuck’s sake,” Bastian said. “Will you just stop? You’re always so gods-damned stubborn.”
I whirled. “Where is it, Bastian?”
He heaved a sigh and walked over to a ledge that jutted out from the wall. The windows spread over it gave a view of the black water sloshing lazily. He clicked open the ledge, and the top popped up, revealing a compartment underneath. He lifted the trident out.
“Do you know what it does?” he asked.
I thought back to everything I’d learned from my father, from his obsession with this weapon. “Spirit Water used it in times of need. Its power is the water element, same as mine, but much, much stronger. The weapons were used to kill, to protect, todefend, to silence someone for good. Maybe I should test it out on you.”
I pointed it at his lips.
He looked away. “I think we already established how much you like my mouth.”
Asshole.
I turned and left the cabin, trident in hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted after me.
“What does it look like?” I asked. “It’s called leaving.”
He followed me out. “I meant with the trident.”
“Don’t follow me.” I flung a hand out. “Just go back to your cabin and finish whatever you were doing...” I trailed off, realizing exactly what he was doing before I interrupted.
He grimaced. “That ship has sailed, I’m afraid.”
Right. When he became the rational one out of the two of us, when he turned my advances down.
“Just let me look at this thing in peace, okay?”
He crossed his arms over his muscled chest, still on display and still glorious. “What are you hoping to find, exactly?”
“Anything. Since you won’t give me answers, I have to find them on my own.”
“I don’t have the answers. I don’t bloody know what your father wanted with this trident. But I do know whatever it was couldn’t have been good. This is powerful, ancient. We don’t need whatever trouble it will bring. I say we hide it and forget about it.”
I shook my head. “No. Not until I find out why my father had this. It could help us understand why he died.”
Bastian rushed forward, taking hold of my shoulders, giving them a rough shake. “Will you just fucking stop? I’m so tired of you not listening, fighting against everything I say. I always knew you were reckless, that you liked to take risks, but you’retaking it too far. Some secrets deserve to stay buried. Let this be one of them.”
I shrugged out of his hold, stepping back. “Or maybe you’re hiding something like you always are. You’re using me. Just like I’m using you. So don’t act like you want what’s best for me, like you’re trying to protect me. You hurt me worse than anyone ever could. You shattered me into a million pieces that I still haven’t put back together. So if I’m being reckless right now, it’s because I have to be in order to save my brothers. I refuse to let my father’s death be in vain. If he died trying to save them, trying to find answers about how to save them, then I’m going to do everything in my power to finish what he started. You think I’m going to just rely on the word of a pirate?” I shook my head. “No. You lost the privilege of me listening to you when you betrayed me. So go back into your fucking cabin and just leave me alone.”
Bastian swallowed, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned, stalking back to his cabin and slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Istood by some barrels, helping inventory supplies. After Bartholomew gave me a rundown of the ship and its main positions, I started offering to help where and when I could. A crew member nodded at me as he passed by. Nodded. Not glared or curled his lip or growled. But a nod. Working on the ship was earning me respect—and truth be told, I liked it. These tasks might be menial to the crew members, but it was nice to feel productive and have something to do to pass the time.
Bartholomew stood on the opposite side of the main deck. He strummed his banjo and sang a song about a time the pirates raided a village of women warriors, who they ended up bedding instead of pillaging. The crew roared with laughter at that, but imagining Bastian with another woman only darkened my mood. Some of the crew danced and whirled while Bartholomew sang, others sitting and drinking, others chatting. It would’ve been the perfect night if I wasn’t still so angry at the pirate lord, who stood on the quarterdeck, back to me, gazing out at the sea.
We hadn’t spoken at all today. I’d barely seen him, which was probably for the better. I also wasn’t any closer to understanding why that trident had been on the beach with my father.
“Princess Gabrielle?” Driscoll cleared his throat.
