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The larger mattress made Griff’s dumping of the limp dragon easier.

Rather than immediately leave, he removed Argent’s boots, drew a blanket over him, and placed a bucket beside his head.

Did dragons puke? He’d rather not find out.

Vomit tended to get stuck in the cracks and it took forever for the smell to disappear.

As Griff went to leave, he heard a murmur. “I’ve spoken the truth thus far, and what I choose not to tell you won’t harm you or the crew.”

He whirled to see the man snoring in the bed, eyes closed, mouth slack jawed.

Had he imagined it?

Or had Argent confirmed he hadn’t told them everything, which meant the dragon had a plan, one Griff wasn’t privy to? He could only hope he hadn’t made a grave mistake in bringing Argent aboard. Still, he found it hard to truly hate the dragon-man, given what happened the following day.

Around midday—with Kreed still moaning and looking slightly green—Peter in the lookout nest shouted, “Fin on the starboard side.”

Not unusual. Sharks did roam these waters. However, the fact Peter bothered to mention it had Griff exiting the bridge to stand on the poop deck for a peek and stare.

When Kreed joined him, the big man murmured, “Is it me or is that fin fucking huge?”

“That’s a megalodon,” was Griff’s grim reply.

Rare for these parts, the massive predators usually swam in the colder waters to the north, a place usually avoided by ships. And they would be one of the reasons.

A megalodon didn’t just hunt other fish, they went after anything they considered a threat, and that included vessels that dared cross their path.

As the fin angled toward them, Griff bellowed, “Arm the harpoon. Everyone on deck, tie off. Prepare for impact.”

The crew scrambled, tying themselves to the rings that dotted the ship, usually used in storms to prevent them from falling overboard. Griff grabbed the rail as the behemoth of a shark rose enough for them to see the wide snout. As it skimmed their hull, the whole vessel shuddered.

The shark submerged and there was silence as they waited to see where it would appear next.

“It surfaced aft,” shouted Peter. “It’s coming around for another go.”

“Brace!” Griff yelled. “Harpoon, what the fuck are you waiting for?”

“Firing now, Cap!” Monty hollered in reply. There was a clang as the mechanism to launch it released and Griff held his breath as the massive metal arrow soared. Only as it came down ready to spear, the shark sank beneath the water.

“Fuck!” Kreed exclaimed.

Fuck indeed, because the shark came at the ship from underneath and slammed into the keel, rocking the ship. Kelly went sliding on the deck only to jolt as the rope tethering him went taut.

Argent took that moment to emerge, complaining as usual. “Why are you lot so loud, and who’s rocking the boat?”

“Get below,” Griff bellowed. “Or tie yourself off. A megalodon’s decided to try and sink us.”

“Aren’t those giant sharks?” Argent’s expression brightened. His head swiveled and he watched as the massive fin circled back to take another run.

Argent stripped so fast it took only a blink before a naked man stood in a puddle of clothes. Then he almost gleefully, and certainly gracefully, executed a perfect dive overboard.

Everyone aboard gasped, including Griff.

Only, they did so in horror, thinking Argent would die, whereas Griff feared the dragon’s secret being outed.

If his crew realized who—or what —he’d brought aboard, they’d mutiny.

Probably do something foolish like attack a dragon. In turn, they’d probably be eaten.

While Argent didn’t surface, the fin abruptly went under. Water churned. Everyone watched, wondering how long before they saw blood. Everyone but Griff and those who knew the truth. They waited for a dragon to emerge.

To Griff’s surprise, when the ocean stilled, the body of the shark—minus its eyes—floated to the surface and bobbed. A moment later, Argent appeared, hair slicked back, looking pleased as he climbed the ladder.

The crew gaped.

A wet Argent wrung out his hair and said, “Please tell me Cook knows how to make shark soup.”

“I do!” Cook exclaimed, recovering from his surprise. “But with one so big, we’ve got enough to make some steaks, too.”

Steak, stew, and grilled cubes. By the time the cliffs of Merisu’s east coast came in sight, Griff had eaten enough shark for a lifetime.

Then again, without it, they would have possibly starved.

A storm had blown them off course and they’d floundered for days as the winds refused to fill their sails—almost unheard of for it to happen that long—and their motor died.

Garth did his best to fix it, however, even he didn’t have an easy solution for repairing a cracked cylinder.

Add in a stop at the tiny isle of Micachu to refresh their water barrels, an altercation with a raiding vessel that chose the wrong ship to antagonize, and they’d wasted precious time.

Too much time.

Everyone stood on deck, staring at the haze hovering over Merisu as the wind that blew from the continent brought the taste of ash to their lips. Those who’d been present during Verlora’s last moments knew what it meant.

A volcano had erupted.

It didn’t take Argent murmuring, “And then there were five,” for Griff to know the other dragons had been hatched.