Page 96 of Of the Stars and Sea

I look to the violent storm raining down over Dead Man’s Passage. For a moment I think I can see the jagged rocks breaking through the ocean’s surface, but as soon as I blink, they’re gone.

“Most wouldn’t dare venture toward certain death,” I reason, shaking my head. “But what waits for us on the other side . . .”

Zaos turns toward me, his face more serious than normal. “And what is it, Rowenya Stone, that awaitsyouon the other side?”

While we were staying at Emerald Cove, Grayson informed his men of the new deal we’d struck: in exchange for my knowledge of the old language, I would get to keep a larger cut of the treasure to ensure my entire crew gets to walk free from Red Beard’s hold on us.

Zaos knows this. But the way he looks at me tells me he wants to hear it for himself.

I don’t break eye contact. “Finding Thaeto’s treasure would mean I have the chance to give my crew a life they deserve. It’s a way for me to . . . finally forgive myself for rescuing them from the evil of this world only to exchange their rusted shackles for a brand new pair.”

A crease forms between his dark brows. “And will you? Give them a chance at a life they deserve?”

Lightning flashes across the moody sky as that all-too-familiar feeling of guilt snakes through my body, ready to seize my mind. Holding me captive to the things I’ve done. The choices I’ve made.

“I will.” I nod.

Fear strikes my heart as Zaos leans down, leveling his gaze with mine. “For the sake of my captain, I hope you stay true to your word.”

Then he turns around and walks away, leaving me in the wake of his unspoken promise of violence.

Candlelight casts long shadows across the dining table in Grayson’s quarters later that evening. As my mouth waters from the savory aromas filling the space, I pour myself a glass of port wine and take a sip. The smooth berry and cinnamon flavors slide down my throat, easing just a little of the knot that’s formed in my stomach since Zaos left me on the main deck to consider the consequences of misusing my cut of the treasure. If that’s even what he was suggesting. Why he’d think that I’d runoff with the cut all for myself, abandoning my crew, is shocking and revolting in equal measure. As though I’d be capable of such a vile betrayal.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Grayson says from across the table. Amber liquid sloshes against the sides of his glass tumbler when he sits back in his seat.

A new sensation takes over the coiling tightness in my stomach. One of swarming butterflies as I take him in. He’s wearing a black tunic and black leather pants that match the onyx shade of his hair and brows, making his bright blue eyes pop.

The truth tingles on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate to say anything. Zaos is his quartermaster. The closest person to him.

Taking a deep breath in, I consider what it would mean to keep the truth hidden after everything that’s transpired between us and decide I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. Not when I was angry at him for trying to protect me from my past.

No more half-truths. No more lies.

“Zaos threatened to kill me if I don’t uphold my promise to give my crew a share of the treasure,” I state plainly.

Grayson’s eyebrows raise. “He said those words exactly?”

I tilt my head back and forth, thinking back to what Zaos had said. “Not exactly. But the threat was apparent, and he made sure to tell me that he doesn’t like me, despite your judgment.”

Grayson sets his glass down, leans back in his chair, and steeples his fingers. “You told him how you gained your crew?” he asks, his voice low.

“Not exactly,” I say again and Grayson smirks.

“You wouldn’t need to. Zaos has always been observant. To an annoying degree, at times.”

I take another swig of wine. “That kind of quality makes him a great spy.”

Grayson nods once, the candle flames reflecting in his eyes. “Yes, it does.”

“I’m assuming that’s how you knew I was planning on intercepting Blythe.”

Grayson scoots his chair back—its legs yelping against the wooden floor below—and rises. Striding toward the middle of the long dining table, he stops at the large serving plate filled with a honey-glazed ham, and picks up the long knife and carving fork.

I swallow as I watch his large hands wrap around the handles. Heat grows in my belly and I clamp my thighs together when my mind wanders to memories of last night and the pleasure he wrung from my body with those hands.

“You assume correctly.” His deep voice breaks through my thoughts. I take another sip of wine to subdue the growing need to reach out for him.

I huff a breath, fogging the inner layer of my wine glass. “Figures.”

---