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“She is stunning, isn’t she?” Maren says as she admires her.

But now I’m looking ather, the pink of her lips, the softly upturned sweep of her delicate nose, her full cheeks sprinkled with freckles that seem to multiply by the day, and her dramatic eyes. “Aye. Beautiful and deadly all at once. The only kind of lady I fall for.”

She gives me a quick, wry smile, not accepting the compliment. Then she frowns. “Where is everyone?”

I look back to the ship. I was so busy admiring her lines that I didn’t stop to think how odd it was that there’s not a soul on deck.

Dread forms in the pit of my stomach.

What has happened here?

“Ahoy there,” I yell, my hands cupped over my mouth. “This is your former captain speaking. Permission to come aboard and cease fire?!”

But there is only silence in response.

“Now what?” Maren says. “Is it a ruse? If we board, will they ambush us?”

“Aye, it seems like a trap,” the quartermaster says. “Proceed with caution.”

I nod. “We can’t just sit here and twiddle our cocks. If it isn’t a trap, then my crew may need me, and fast.”

“And if it is a trap?” Maren asks.

“Then we take it moment by moment.”

And hope the moments are kind.

CHAPTER29

Maren

The sightof theNightwindcompletely empty, her decks bare of crew, sends a chill down my spine. Where are they? What has Nerissa done with them? Or Sterling, for that matter? It doesn’t seem feasible that any of the Brethren would listen to a big oaf like him, but I could be wrong. Perhaps there have been decades of festering resentment among the members, maybe even amongst his own family.

“Steady!” the skeletal quartermaster yells. “Get the plank ready.”

Some of the crew bring out a long wooden plank and lower it over the rail until it slams against the rail of theNightwind. Ramsay winces at the sound, not wanting any damage to his beloved ship.

Then he gives a silent command with his hand for the crew to board the ship, moving as quietly as possible. Not that anyone on board wouldn’t have heard us already, but even so.

Ramsay looks back at me. “Maren, stay on the ship and guard it with the bosun,” he says, dropping his voice.

I look over at the bosun and even though the crew’s skulls seem to be grinning at all times, this one looks especially leering.

“I think not,” I tell him and, before he can stop me, I’m pulling myself up on the plank and quickly running across it. Normally my balance is atrocious because of my legs but because it’s the sea beneath me, the sea that I don’t fear, I’m able to cross it with newfound grace.

I give Ramsay a defiant look as I join him and he just shakes his head in response.

“No point telling you to do anything, is there luv?” He reaches into his holster and pulls out a pistol, placing it in my hand. “Here. Just in case.”

I relish the weight of it in my hands, though if it comes to it I’m ready to claw Sterling’s face off, perhaps even the witch’s too.

We head down the stairs into the dark and silent deck below, Ramsay first, followed by me, the quartermaster and the rest of the skeleton crew. Ramsay grabs a lantern and lights it with a strike of a match that he fished out from his pocket and this is the second time he’s made fire easily appear. I have to wonder if this is some of the other magic that Venla gave him.

TheNightwindfeels different now, like it lost its essence in the time that Ramsay was gone. He gives life to the ship and I know the ship gives life to him. Here in the dark gangways it feels sinister and cold, the shadows especially seeming to dance in the moving flame, and I see faces where there aren’t any. Perhaps it doesn’t help that every time I turn around I see skulls grinning at me.

We explore this deck, then the next, and each one is empty, dark as sin and quiet as the grave. I keep thinking we’re going to be ambushed, as if I can feel things watching me from the shadows, and yet nothing happens.

Finally we go to the hold, with all its different rooms for storage. Down here it always smells awful because of the bilge but even more so now that it doesn’t seem to have been emptied for a while and I know there are rotting corpses too. The air is thick with moisture that clings to your skin, the water sloshes against the hull. The captain of theElephantenused to tell us that we were always three or four inches from death, which is the thickness of the planks of the vessel. I never felt it much until now, despite knowing that I can breathe underwater.