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Graeson ignored him and finished the knot. Then spotting Seelie, one of the crew members, struggling to tighten down a cannon, Graeson sprinted to him and shoved him aside.

“Can none of you tie a knot properly?” Graeson spat.

“What are you even doing up here? You should be down below with the others,” Seelie said.

“That’s one way to say thank you,” Graeson said, securing the rope.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Seelie shouted through the rain.

Seelie shook his head, mumbling some insult as he hurried to another cannon. Graeson couldn’t quite catch the entire insult, but he had heard enough for his anger to spike. He charged forward.

Graeson’s momentum was cut off, and he was forced back, back smacking against the railing and forcing out a grunt.

“What the—” Graeson flinched once he spotted the captain staring at him, nostrils flaring and only inches away from his face. “Squires! What’s your problem?”

”You!” Squires spat. “You are my problem, Graeson!”

“Me?”

Rain poured onto the deck, soaking it. Beyond Squires, Graeson could barely make out the others who raced around the deck as the storm picked up. Waves crashed against the side of the boat, rocking it.

“You are not the captain here. Stop telling my crew what to do and get out of their way.”

“But—”

“No.” Squires shook his head, and water flew off the rim of his hat. “Either go below deck withyourcrew or swim with the kraken. Perhaps you’ll be more of use to her.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Your choice, Son.” Squires stared at him, unmoving. Even as the rain poured down on them, the captain didn’t flinch.

Snarling, Graeson looked over his shoulder at the raging sea. Waves smacked against the side of the ship. For a second, he debated jumping since he would rather jump in the waters than sit idly beneath the deck with the others. At least struggling to stay afloat would give him something to do, something to distract his mind.

When Graeson still hadn’t responded, Squires shouted, “Lucky!”

A large man appeared behind Squires, arms crossed over his bulging chest. Rain poured down upon him, smacking his bald head. Lucky took a step forward.

Graeson moved out of his reach. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Thank the gods,” Squires mumbled.

“Go fuck yourself, Squires.”

“Gladly,” Squires said, teeth shining. With a tip of his hat and an apology on his face, Squires turned his back as Graeson opened up the hatch to the lower deck.

Behind him, he heard Squires shout to one of the crew members to feed the kraken for good measure. Graeson, however, doubted the offering would do them any good. Once ignited, the wrath of a god was hard to extinguish.

Graeson stepped onto the ladder. He should have been pissed at the Captain, but he didn’t have any fight left in him. When Graeson was a teenager, Squires had taken him under his sail. With Squires mentoring him, Graeson learned how to tie the perfect knot, read the stars, and hold his rum on the rocky waves. And for a time, the sea helped channel his anger.

Until it didn’t.

The hatch slammed down above Graeson as his feet hit the ground. Laughter filled the air beneath the deck, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. He took in the sight before him, lips pressed in a firm line and arms folded over his chest.

In the center of the open space, Armen and Moris were in a full-out brawl. And now, Graeson was truly regretting recruiting them.

While Armen had not been Graeson’s first choice as a member of his small crew, Graeson was not a fool. Armen’s time in Ardentol gave him vital knowledge of Domitius that Graeson and the others did not possess. His knowledge of both the Ardentolian guards and Domitius’ behavior was essential for retrieving Kalisandre and ridding them of Domitius, once and for all. Armen’s weakness, however, was his blatant arrogance.

Did the man truly think he could beat Moris? There was a reason Moris, one of the majors under Dani’s command, was highly sought after for missions. Within a moment’s notice, Moris could paralyze his victims without even touching them.