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Luthri appeared to remember what he was doing before I entered the room and turned back to the table. He stared at the card the galyak had played, mouth open in an O . A stack of coins next to the card caught my eye. They weren’t… He wasn’t…?

“You can’t do that,” he hissed.

“Oh, but I can.” The old woman sat back, looking mighty pleased with herself. “A north star takes the place of a matching pair when two players remain.” She smirked. “Unless you draw a card that will somehow give you three more matches on your next turn, I win.”

“Ha!” Vyrain crowed, jumping to his feet and pointing. Hohem loosed a low groan and dropped his head into his hands. Luthri continued to stare, having no words.

Coming to his side, I examined the table. I didn’t recognize whatever game they were playing, but the contextual clues were enough, though I was afraid to believe what my eyes were seeing. Luthri was impulsive, but he wasn’t stupid. Certainly not that stupid.

“Did you gamble away our last few coins?” I injected the question with warning.

“I goofed,” Lu admitted, his left knee bouncing under the table.

“Mar—” Hohem began.

My head snapped in his direction, and he decided against whatever it was he was about to say, holding up his hands and shrinking down in his seat.

Angry words bubbled up my throat, ready to be wielded.

My nostrils flared. No, no—I could be better than this.

My lips pressed together, and I closed my eyes to focus on my breathing.

Sucked in air through my nose, parted my lips to release it.

In and out. When I opened my eyes again, the hag was standing. If she had eyes, she would have winked.

“Keep your money,” she said, nodding at the coins. “Thanks for the game.”

As she made for the door, the last breath I inhaled left me in a whoosh. Cresting anger was replaced by the soothing balm of relief. Luthri didn’t need to die tonight after all.

“That’s not—” he began.

I interrupted him with a firm, sincere “Thank you,” a smile frozen on my face. My hand dropped to his forearm and squeezed as she left, hopefully hard enough to convey the message of close your big, fat mouth, or I will shut it for you .

“Let’s play something with lower stakes,” a handsome faun I hadn’t seen before suggested, trying to break the tension. “A simple game of questions to get to know each other.”

He and the half-man, half-snake were the only two members of the crew that remained.

Their attempt to be hospitable even after that whole debacle deserved to be rewarded.

I rounded the table and sank into one of the empty chairs across from Luthri with a glower, intent on putting together a proper scolding as soon as we were in private.

That wouldn’t be too harsh, would it? It wasn’t as though I didn’t know how to have fun, but there were limits to reckless behavior.

He crossed a line—that needed to be called out.

“Shall I start?” The faun asked, turning to Hohem. “How old are you?”

“Thirty revolutions,” the fair fae muttered. When silence fell, the faun inclined his head encouragingly. Hohem’s eyes darted around the table before landing on Luthri.

“Uhh, where were you born?”

“The Eastern continent,” Lu replied immediately. “An island off the coast of Pfilai.” His gaze shifted in my direction, the motion calling to mind a predator seeking out its prey from behind tall grass. “Mar. Tell me about the first time you had sex.”

Where does he get off ? —

Finding my voice, I snapped, “Vá encher o saco do c?o com reza,” before remembering where I was and switching to Ishameti . “That’s none of your business. And anyway, that goes against the spirit of the game, don’t you think?”

“How so? It’s a question, and I’d like an answer.”

“It was more like a demand. Anyway, this is a game about getting to know each other, not spilling embarrassing secrets. Unless you’d like to tell us…”—I grasped for something on the same level—“I don’t know, if you’ve ever crapped your pants.”

“Two revolutions ago,” Lu answered without missing a beat, his gaze unwavering. “A fling didn’t believe the extent of my carbohydrate intolerance and tampered with my food.”

Outrage cut through the haze of resentment. “What the fuck? That’s messed up.”

Lu blinked. “It’s—well. I suppose it was.”

The poor faun’s smile had faded into an awkward grimace since our heated exchange began.

No doubt he wished he hadn’t started the whole thing.

Being disconnected from polite society for so long, it became easy to forget yourself, to forget about manners and playing nice with others. But we weren’t barbarians.

“I apologize for the detour. Let’s try that again.” My eyes found the snake-man, the only person at the table who hadn’t yet had the chance to speak. I tried for a pleasant smile. “Hi. How about, uh… what’s your role on the ship? Your job here?”

A few cordial rounds later, it was Luthri’s turn again.

“Tell me something you’re afraid of,” he asked me. So now we were getting vulnerable?

My arms crossed. “ Nykse. What do you think is your greatest flaw?”

Luthri exhaled a puff of air, but took my challenge in stride.

“As you know,” he began, keeping his gaze downcast, “I’ve had many…

sexual partners. The fact is—and this is truly difficult to say—I’m so good in bed that the people I’ve slept with in the past keep coming back, begging for more.

And I have to disappoint them time and again. ”

Hohem snorted. “What a hardship.”

I couldn’t help but notice the lack of an answer.

Luthri had been truthful in the past, so why did he skirt around the question now?

Was it that he didn’t understand what I was asking, or that he wasn’t capable of letting himself be vulnerable, even for a moment?

For all of his speeches about trusting people, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Open Book himself.

“Got it.” I kept my tone light. “Too many shortcomings to narrow them down. A monumental braggart, insatiable flirt, bulky build…”

“Don’t forget ‘strikingly handsome’ and ‘outrageously clever,’” Lu chipped in.

“Outrageously simple, more like. Do you know what the word ‘flaw’ means?”

The snake man threw back his head and laughed, interrupting our back and forth. “You’re a witty one, aren’t you? Bet that temper keeps people on their toes.”

Luthri face split with a feline grin. “It’s what I love most about her,” he replied.

I scoffed, but his choice of words slithered its way into the recesses of my mind, clunking into place with an attitude that let me know it was there to stay. Oh, boy.

The faun provided a welcome distraction. “In the mood for supper?” he asked brightly, his hooves clicking against the floor as he hopped off his stool.

“I could eat,” Hohem agreed, the sentiment echoed by his brother.

The crew members had us follow them to the kitchen, where drums of flour, lard, salt, and other staples were stacked together—more than enough for a week at sea.

It turned out that the faun was the cook.

He put together a quick meal of cured meats, crisp biscuits that he claimed were homemade, and a fruit like a softball-sized lychee.

Luthri and I sat beside each other in silence as we ate.

Me, the full spread; him, nothing but a plate of the salted meat.

Some frustration over the earlier situation remained, but thanks to the galyak ’s kindness, no lasting damage had been done.

I wanted to discuss the issue with him at some point, but it was a trivial matter in the grand scheme of things.

Besides, we could set aside some time to talk once this job was over.