It tasted horrible, but it did the trick—if they drank enough of it, anyway.

Nola chugged her first drink since then. The Sybil Curse’s crew was perplexed yet fascinated by their new addition. They all began to laugh as the bottom of her mug hit the floor.

“It’s on!” the siren girl shouted.

“It’s on, matey!” Mazie said as she raised her drink and said, “to our journey!”

The pirates brought their mugs together and toasted to the days ahead.

After several rounds of cheap rum, they all rested. Mazie relaxed her head on Hill’s shoulder. Ardley still puffed his pipe, slowly blowing out a cloud of smoke, sending the pungent aroma of tobacco wafting in the air.

Kitten sat comfortably between Boots legs; his arms wrapped around her waist. He was her safe place, after all. She leaned back to rest her head against his muscular, hairy chest.

Lincoln turned to Nola, who was still by his side. “Hey, beautiful.”

A faint flush tinged her cheeks. “Yes?”

He swallowed. “Tell me one thing about you?”

The realization they had not talked much about each other rose in her mind. She liked that Lincoln was interested in her, except, of course, she could not reveal the fact she was born with a siren tail.

“I—”

He reached out, and she stopped her sentence short. Then lost track of time looking into his beautiful eyes. He brushed his thumb over her lips and played with a few strands of hair hanging over her shoulder—a familiar gesture she loved.

Lincoln lowered his hand down from her shoulder, and nerves twisted in her stomach. Nola wanted to talk to him; she had to. But then that moment was over.

“Nola,” Mazie called.

The siren girl did not want to look away; that was certain. She could stare into his eyes forever.

Mazie clamored to her feet. “You said your father was a bowyer, eh?”

Nola nodded.

Raven gave her a side smirk. “Can you shoot an arrow and not miss?”

She nodded again. “I’ve never missed,” she said with pride, “But I’ve never practiced on moving targets.”

Kitten raised her head. “I’ve got an idea. If we miraculously survive these next four days,” she said, “we can ’ave Hill run around the deck, and then ye can practice!”

Hill broke out in a hard laugh at the joke directed at himself. Mazie looked down at him. Her expression hardened as she walked to the broadside and faced up to the full moon.

The conversations around her muffled. She wondered if the stowaway girl could be the key to defeating the king. After a few quiet minutes, Nola pulled Mazie from her deep thought.

“Now that we’re—you know—mates,” Nola stated, “I’d love to hear the story behind your pirate names.”

Boots let out a laugh, sticking his fine leather cavalier boot in the air. “My father gave me the name Boots when I was a young lad. Now that I can only wear one of these, I guess I could be called Boot.”

Kitten and Hill snickered at his joke.

A small smile shone on the siren’s lips before she said, “May I ask?” Nola gestured to his peg leg.

“I wish I had a better story for you, like a crocodile ripped it off,” he explained. “Nay, I got bit by a snake, and the doctor had to cut it off before the venom reached me heart.”

She gasped. “Oh, Gods. I’m so sorry,” she said.

Boots burst into laughter; that time, the entire crew joined in. A teasing quirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Just yankin’ your chain,” he said.